“It’s good for getting all the grime out,” he said, as if he hadn’t already explained it before. “And after a few cycles like this — especially once you rinse the soap in clean water — I’ll use another spell to air-dry it.”
Elyssandra clapped her hands. “Ooh! I can help iron it. Braiden showed me how. I’ll go find the flatiron.”
She dashed upstairs. The iron was one of those old-fashioned kinds that worked with boiling water or hot coals. He could already hear her rummaging, but he didn’t mind the mess.
It was nice seeing the once-helpless princess learn all the small, practical things. She’d once been too frightened to eventurn on a stove. Time away from the Summerlands had done her good.
She’d come to them a talented thief and a competent spear fighter, and now she could make Granny Bethilda’s Perfectly Plump Pancakes, too? Elyssandra was unstoppable.
So absorbed were they in watching the whirling soap and suds that Braiden almost didn’t look up when the shop bell tinkled again.
In strode the horned warrior, this time without his helm. Just like they did on that first fateful day, one of Valefour’s horns brushed against the doorbell, eliciting a faint tinkle. This time, he didn’t apologize.
Braiden should have suspected something then, the stark black silhouette he’d cast against the floorboards, the way the midnight sword in his scabbard gave his shadow something that resembled a devil’s tail.
Warren reached for a mop, wielding it as expertly as a quarterstaff. Craghammer dangled one arm behind the counter, ready to grab his war hammer at a moment’s notice. Augustin pulled up his sleeves, exposing his deadliest weapons, the nimble fingers that did half of his spellcasting.
And Valefour had hardly walked two paces into the shop when Bones uttered a frightened shriek, throwing himself into a shivering, cloak-covered pile behind the counter.
“I do tend to have that effect on people,” Valefour said with a cocky grin.
He’d be so handsome if he wasn’t also so very punchable, especially now that Braiden knew he had dark designs for him and his friends.
“You owe me a window,” Braiden said. “And an explanation.”
Valefour spread both hands apart and shrugged. “I keep telling you to come deep into the dungeon. A single haul of the treasures you’ll find there will buy you all the windows youwant.” He cocked his head at the nearest wall. “Knock this down, build a floor-to-ceiling window if you like. I hear it’s all the rage over in Whiteport.”
Braiden squeezed his fists and glowered. He just had to go and bring up Whiteport. The man reallywasa demon.
“Sorry,” Augustin said, cracking his knuckles. “But we aren’t taking renovating advice from someone who can’t be bothered to go in through the front door.”
Valefour’s brow furrowed. He thumbed over his shoulder. “But I just did. Go in through the front door, that is.”
“I meant the thing with the storage room window!” Augustin said, clearly more aggravated by his own stumble. “Your infernal servant would have burned the whole place down if Elyssandra hadn’t trapped it with her quick thinking.”
And her ample bottom, Braiden thought, knowing better than to voice something that wasn’t going to help their cause.
“Ah, yes,” Valefour said. “Princess Elyssandra Ileli Emeridan, was it not? Clearly a very valuable member of your little crew. Very valuable, indeed.”
Braiden didn’t like how much emphasis the demon was putting on the word “value.”
“Let’s get this over with. Tell us why it’s so important for you that we come down the dungeon.”
“Counterpoint,” Valefour said, wagging his finger. “Come down the dungeon, and we’ll tell you why it’s so important.”
We? Did Valefour mean himself and his sentient brass box, or were there other demons waiting to ambush them deep below?
“You know that isn’t going to happen,” Braiden said. “It looks like we’re at a standstill. I suggest you leave before things get ugly.”
“Yes. Ishouldleave. But not without taking a quick souvenir.”
The demon vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind the counter. He scooped up the shivering bundle of bones in one arm, then disappeared again, teleporting a few feet away from the front door. Braiden barely had time to blink, much less consider casting a single spell.
“No, please!” Bones squealed, the terror pinching his voice into something high pitched, almost girlish.
“How’s this for motivation?” the demon said through a wicked grin. “If you wish to save your princess, you must come to the dungeon depths after all. See you there, weaver.”
Without warning, Craghammer launched himself from the counter, war hammer in hand as he roared a ferocious battle cry.
