Kaz had taken to following Amma everywhere while Damien insisted on being alone. The imp’s hatred of Amma even seemed to wane ever so slightly in the presence of the shadow imps which he much more openly detested. Amma had come to recognize some of them, though not by their forms which remained inconsistent, but by their affects. Far from a monolith, the shadow imps each had a particular way of doing things. They all served Xander, and most did as Damien requested as well, but some were aggressive and sharp while others were placid and apathetic, and there were even a few that hesitated at corners with docility.
After a week of this, Amma had worked up the courage to talk to one of the meeker shadow imps and requested a dress that didn’t leave her quite so exposed. “And,” she added, when the imp vigorously nodded the dark, hazy blob that was its head at her request, “if it’s maybe rose-colored or lavender or something, I won’t complain.”
The imp obliged her instantly, bringing her a dusty pink-colored dress that, while still form-fitting, didn’t risk one of her breasts slipping out if she moved too quickly, but it only bolstered the annoyance she had been harboring at both blood mages—this dress had been available all along.
She privately enjoyed the soft, slinky fabric of the clothes she had to pick from in the tower, and even the low necklines and cutouts were growing on her, but not when she had no choice, and especially not when Xander had picked them out. He was a brat, a conman, and lazy to boot. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, and she especially didn’t like the way he looked at Damien, like he would kiss him while he drove a knife into his heart.
Before the imp could leave her that evening, Amma asked it to stay. Hesitantly, it curled in on itself into a little shadowy blob and bounced closer to where she sat on the end of her bed.
“Thank you for this,” she said, gesturing with the dress. “I was just wondering, have you served Xander for a long time?”
“Yes.” Its voice was breathy, a mouth opening in the hazy shadows of its head. “I’ve been with the Blasphemed bloodline for centuries.”
“That’s Xander’s mother, Birzuma?” When the imp nodded again, Amma swallowed. “So, you must have been around when Xander and Damien were young. How well did they know each other?”
“There was a time when they both lived in that city of beasts, north of the realm.”
“Aszath Koth?” Amma’s grip on the dress tightened. “Birzuma and Xander lived there too?”
“Only for a few years. The dark lordess made her home there before too, but she returned a few years after Master Shadowhart was spawned. They remained when the Tempestuous family abandoned the city and Master Bloodthorne.”
“You mean Birzuma took care of Damien after his parents left?”
The imp shrugged the parts of it that could have been called shoulders and then nodded.
“Lies,” hissed Kaz from the room’s corner, and both Amma and the imp jumped. She had forgotten he was there, but with Damien often kicking him out of his chamber, Kaz seemed to prefer being with Amma to being alone in the parlor.
The shadow imp curled in on itself a little more. “The dark lordess commanded the city in Zagadoth’s stead,” it said in a shaky voice, “and Master Bloodthorne was her ward.”
Kaz grunted. “Until the dark lord saw what became of Aszath Koth and his son, and then had her chased away.Again.” He turned to Amma. “Master Bloodthorne didn’t need her anyway.”
“Master Bloodthorne was very young and unruly, and—”
Kaz growled openly at the shadow imp, and its hazy form actually shrunk.
Amma sat straighter, eyes narrowed. “Wait, I thought the draekins took care of him? And whatactuallyhappened to Damien’s parents anyway?”
“Your king happened,” Kaz spat at her. “The dark lord was forced to march on Eirengaard to retrieve his spawn, but he could not return, and Aszath Koth and Master Bloodthorne were left unprotected through treachery and the betrayal of humans likeyou.”
Amma blinked back at him, unsure what to say. “To retrieve his spawn? You mean Damien?”
“The humans took the young blood mages,” said the shadow imp, voice still quavering.
“Enough! She is a human woman, no different than the others. The more she knows, the more she can use against demonkind.” Kaz stomped forward, and the shadow imp shot across the room, its hazy body dissolving through the door.
Left alone with Kaz, Amma sighed. “Kaz, I don’t want to hurt anybody, especially not Damien, I just want to understand.”
“That is what they all say,” Kaz grumbled, and then added, “trollop,” for good measure before stalking out into the parlor.
Amma fell back onto the bed with a hefty sigh. Wonderful, now even the imps wouldn’t talk to her.
The next morning, the seventh day of their incessant studying, Xander finally jumped up at one of Amma’s dictated translations.
“This!” He shouted, poking a finger down at the book and making contact. Twice as quickly, he pulled his hand back, shaking off the fire that lit itself on his fingertip. “Oh, you bastard of a book,” he swore, finger in his mouth.
Damien glanced up, little concern on his face. He had been scrawling furiously, so hard and fast his handwriting had lost its neatness. The midday sun just barely peeked through the clouds, lighting his face on the side through the massive windows. Skin pallid, it was still nice to see warmth reflected on him. “What?” he asked with a heavy sigh.
“This is what I was hoping for,” said Xander, gesturing much more carefully to the page Amma had been translating aloud. “A corruption spell.”
