“It served its purpose,” said Damien, finally settling back himself and pressing the tips of his long fingers together.
“But I imagine that scroll would have been a bit more useful in Eirengaard to liberate dear, old daddy, no?”
Damien’s cool confidence waned, eyes flicking over to Amma at the mention of his father, the demon he intended to free. He swallowed.
“So, you must have somethingmuchbetter up your sleeve to get him out, and, as I said, I want in.” Xander’s dark eyes were wide, set on Damien expectantly, his smile tight lipped. He knew he had him, and similarly Damien knew too.
He shifted in the tall-backed chair, bringing a hand up to his chin and rubbing it, looking into the fire. “You’d like your mother out too, I wager.”
“Always sharp as a horn, you were,” said Xander. “I’ve been considering it ever since I figured out what you were doing. Imagine this,”—he sat up holding his hands out in front of him, fingers spread—“We head into the capital together, side-by-side—no one will see that coming—I’m thinking maybe we bring a few wyverns, I know a guy offering a good deal, oh, don’t look like that, they’re impressive, okay?”
Damien was apparently not doing a very good job at hiding the unease on his face at the mention of winged serpents.
“Maybe we’ll even get a dragon if we can convince one, and I know what you’re thinking, butnotan infernal one—I’m actually interested in turning one of those divine things. Of course all my shadow imps will come along, and you can bring your little draekin army or whatever it is you keep up there in the mountains, and we march right up to that dominion spawn, cut off his head, and then we’ll break out my mother with whatever it is you’ve got planned, and I guess your father too, andthenthey can duke it out to decide who gets to reign supreme over the realm from the throne in Eirengaard. Whoever wins—mother, of course—will be pleased with both of us, either way, since we did it together, and I’m fairly sure they’d let the loser’s son live. At worst you’d be a trophy, but at best you’d be a ward—you remember, like the good, old days in Aszath Koth?”
Damien cocked a brow at Xander, eyes shifting back from the fire when he was finished speaking. Amma’s mouth went dry at that look, but if he was considering it, he did so silently.
Xander waited a moment longer then dropped his hands into his lap, pouting. “Well, I thought it was a marvelous idea. You, kitten, you think it’s a good idea, don’t you?”
With his dark eyes on her, willing her on to agree, Amma just pressed back into the chair on the room’s far side. “You both have a parent trapped in Eirengaard?”
Xander nodded. “His Majesty Archie, that king you serve in the realm, is a prolific if not picky demon hunter. My mother, Birzuma the Blasphemed, Ninth Lord of the Accursed Wastes and Nefarious Harbinger of the Chthonic Tower, is one of, if not his preeminent prisoner.” Of course, Amma had just heard Damien rattle off the same thing to the assembled in Faebarrow, though she had sort of thought he was making it all up. Xander turned back to Damien and smirked. “The better ninth lord of anything.”
“Please.” Damien’s eyes rolled with an untensing of his shoulders. “How difficult is it to lord over the Accursed Wastes? There’s nothing here. The Infernal Darkness is significantly more complex and evolved. It’s not even on this plane.”
“Oh, yes, it’s so difficult to be an Abyssal Tyrant, I guess.” Xander crossed his arms, sticking out his tongue. “We’re all blood mages, Damien, I don’t know whyyouget to have the sanguine throne.”
“It’s not mine, just like this tower isn’t yours, and you know it.” Damien sat forward slightly.
“Isn’t it?” Xander also sat forward, but quicker, his smile sharper as he nearly sprung from his chair. “Isn’t it yours to defend in Zag’s stead? Just as this place is mine?” He slipped a hand into the neckline of his top and revealed a thin vial of blood.
“Moronic,” said Damien, eyeing the vial. His lip curled, disgusted, and he leaned farther forward. “You can defend nothing if someone gets their hands on that blood of yours that you’ve preserved. All because you’re not willing to endure a little pain.”
“Who said I don’t like pain?” Xander perched just on the edge of his chair. “And if this is so simple to take away, then why don’t you come over here and show me how easy I am.”
Damien took a deep breath, veins in his neck tensing, violet eyes on Xander like they could burn him alive, and then all at once, he threw himself back into his chair with a huff. “We can argue for millennia about who’s the better blood mage, but the truth is, both of our parents are trapped in that bastard’s vault, fallen to a divine mage who calls himself a king, so we can’t prove a damn thing.”
Xander remained on the edge of his seat a moment longer, holding his breath, but finally relaxed back as well. “And killing you now won’t prove anything either—you’re so weak after that ruckus you caused, it would hardly be fair. I will admit I’m impressed you got my translocation portal to work so cleanly though. You didn’t even fall down the steps or anything.Andyou brought the human and the imp with you. Quite the expenditure of arcana, I imagine.” Xander stretched, arms behind his head, casually glancing in Amma’s direction. “So much so that I wonder if you’ve got much left in you to protect anything at all.”
Amma’s knee began to bounce nervously, bloodied fingers curling around the edges of the Lux Codex.
Damien sat forward again, quickly this time, face pinched as he tried to hide the pain he’d just caused himself. “When I agreed to your terms, it was for all of us. We have a bargain, but only for as long as you keep your hands to yourself. We’re obviously not leaving tonight to storm the capital, so first: our asylum.”
“Aw, sleepy?” Xander pouted, but he stood, stretching before the fireplace. “I suppose I am as well. Come on, then, why don’t we retire—”
“To our own rooms,” Damien cut him off, standing as well.
“Still no fun, as always. You’ll want clothes too, yes? And what else? A warm bath?Food? Darkness, so needy.” Smirking, he looked him up and down. “I know just what to put you in at least.”
“Nothing you own will fit me,” scoffed Damien, wider shouldered. “Not in size or style.”
“Oh, no, not my clothes. I just had someone recently who’s almost your identical build. Amazing in bed if his fashion sense is a little…meh.” He started to walk off, crooking a finger at Amma. “Someone your size too. If only I’d gotten them both together, now, that would have been a good time, though it does seem the opportunity has presented itself again, hasn’t it?”
Xander wandered off back into the main hall, calling out orders with a cheery lilt to unseen servants to make his guests comfortable. Amma eased herself over to Damien who was rubbing a temple and focusing very hard on putting one foot in front of the other as he was no longer under Xander’s eye.
Amma gently touched his arm, and he stiffened. “Everything will be fine,” he assured her without her asking, and continued on as if there were no problem at all, and she followed.
The tower had a set of stairs built into its center that wound upward in a spiral, each level set along a rounded balcony. As they traveled through the eerily quiet place, shadows moved at the corners of Amma’s vision, taking shape on occasion to look like a human or creature, but they always slipped swiftly out of view again. There was an urgency in the shadow creatures, running ahead as they floated, anticipating Xander’s needs. Sleeping chambers were near the top up even more of those steps. No wonder Xander was so thin, he was constantly climbing these things.
