“Right,” Gilli said uncertainly, looking back and forth between us. “But…he is a demon. Who says he’s your betrothed. And you say you have a demon betrothed.”
“I’m lying! We’re both lying! We’re not betrothed!”
“We are betrothed,” Daziel said cheerfully.
The girls exchanged bewildered glances. Neither Gilli nor Jelan were likely to have practical knowledge of demons. Gilli’s family lived right outside Talum, while Jelan came from the capital city of Maurino, Ena-Cinnai’s southern neighbor. Cities were heavily warded against mazzikin—small spirits—and usually avoided by wild demons, like Daziel, who preferred space and nature. High demons occasionally visited cities for society entertainments or treaty negotiations, but ordinary folk had nothing to do with them. Besides, high demons knew how to behave in human society—they might be more powerful than their kindred, but they were also more predictable, and so not as alarming.
“Can I crash with you tonight?” I asked Gilli. “I can’t figure out how to banish him.”
“Have you tried, um, blowing a shofar and spitting?” Gilli asked.
“The shofar, yeah, but not spitting.”
Daziel looked astonished. “Are you going tospiton me?”
“No?” Gilli responded timidly. Which, also fair. It was one thing to read about spitting on a demon and quite another to spit on a very real one.
“I won’t spit if you leave,” I said. “Which you should, because even if you’re allowed in my rooms, it can’t be proper for you to be in Gilli’s uninvited.”
He frowned, but he couldn’t dispute that, not if he cared about hospitality. “You won’t stay here forever. I can wait at home.”
I almost choked. At home? Meaningmyrooms? Presumptuous. “I might stay here tonight, though.”
He scowled, looking as petty as my sister Adina. This felt weirdly reassuring—the more he reminded me of a teenage boy and the less of a strange, magical creature, the more sure-footed I felt. “Since you’resoinsistent on avoiding me, even though I cameallthe way out here to be with you—we could strike a bargain.”
This didn’t assuage my wariness. “What kind of bargain?”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to strike bargains with demons,” Gilli whispered. Jelan shook her head.
He smiled, all sharp teeth and black eyes. Not so human after all. He held out a round red fruit: a pomegranate, which he definitely hadn’t been holding a moment before. “Accept this gift. Then I’ll leave.”
I loved pomegranates. They were high on my list of favorite fruits. But there were a lot of stories about people eating fruit, and I couldn’t remember any ending positively.
“Am I missing something?” I asked my friends. “Because on the surface, this sounds good.” I narrowed my eyes at Daziel. “Is the pomegranate bespelled? Do I have to eat it?”
“It’d be a waste of a perfectly good pomegranate if you didn’t,” Daziel said with some asperity. “But no. And it’s not bespelled. It’s not magical. It’s a pomegranate.”
I glanced at Jelan, for she was one of the smartest people I’d met. “How good are demons at lying?”
“Very good.”
“A rude and baseless stereotype,” Daziel scoffed. “Will you accept it?”
I hesitated. “You’ll leave if I do?”
He nodded.
I took the fruit.
Daziel smiled. And vanished.
Sheer relief descended. It hadn’t been a trick. I hadn’t made a terrible call, dooming myself and my friends. He’d kept his word and left.
“Wow,” Gilli said faintly. She leaned over, her nose close to the pomegranate as she examined it, the lavender bow in her hair fluttering. “Do we eat it?”
“No,” Jelan said.
“No,” I agreed.
