“I said dance,” the Emperor snarls. “Now.”
Locke scowls at the creature, but he doesn’t start moving.
“Locke!” I hiss. “Just do it.”
Begrudgingly, he starts to move, swaying from side to side until the Emperor penguin harumphs and returns to his own penguin lady and undulating on her.
“This is ridiculous,” Locke grumbles as he moves. “What does this have to do with the boss battle?”
“It said this requires diplomacy. It isn’t very diplomatic to not do as he says,” I point out, moving around Locke with the strange metallic sounds.
Svetlana sways back and forth, clearly enjoying herself. “I love jazz music.”
I ignore her, mostly because I don’t know what jazz music is, but also because Locke is moving his hips in a way now that has my throat growing thick. I dance around him, swaying my hips, trying my best to dance hard enough to pass the challenge. When Locke grabs me and tugs me closer, until our bodies are grinding against each other, I completely forget about the challenge. My mouth dries as I look up into his eyes. My leg slides between his and his knee slips between mine, his thigh pressing against my core. His hands snake around my waist, holding me close as we move. My breath starts to quicken when I grind down on his thigh and throw my head back. His other hand goes to the back of my neck, holding me close as we move.
“Stop!”
The music cuts off abruptly, the penguins squawking loudly in complaint.
I’m breathing hard as I pull back from Locke, our eyes on each other.
“That was very sexy,” Svetlana coos at Locke. “Almost makes me want to forgo slicing off your head so I can watch the two of you fuck.”
Locke’s brows lower at the praying mantis, but he turns toward the Emperor with a scowl. “What now?”
“Your dancing is . . . sufficient,” the Emperor declares. “Now . . . you must have an offering for me.”
I hesitate. “What sort of offering do you require?”
I’d just gotten rid of a lot of items in my inventory and stored a lot more, but none of it seems like something a penguin would like. I certainly don’t have anything currently on me worthwhile. What would a penguin do with a man-eating houseplant?
“A pebble!” the Emperor screams. “Good enough to gift my favorite hen.” He points with his beak to the pretty feminine penguin off to the side. “If each of your pebbles do not meet my requirements, you fail.”
“What requirements?” I ask the same time as Locke asks, “What happens if we fail?”
The Emperor penguin honks. “You die!”
He doesn’t answer my question, leaving us to make assumptions about what makes a good pebble to a penguin.
“Fuck,” Locke says, looking at me. “You don’t happen to have a few amazing pebbles in your inventory, do you?”
“I put all my stacks of rocks in the storage chest,” I answer. “And I just traded away my rock that had monkey brains on it. You don’t have anything at all?”
Locke scowls and looks around the ground. “Some of us only pick up what we need. I haven’t had time to start hoarding since we last talked about it.”
“And look at where that’s gotten you!” I hiss, looking around the ground, too, hoping I’ll somehow magically find a pebble suitable for an emperor.
“Do we have a time limit to find these pebbles?” Svetlana asks the Emperor when neither of us think to ask.
“Three minutes!” the Emperor declares. “Starting now!”
Frantically, I start looking around the ground for a pebble. But what makes a good pebble for a penguin? What do they like? Why do they need it? How would I possibly know something like that?
“We should find the largest rock I can carry,” Locke says. “Pebble, my ass. He can’t deny a boulder.”
“No,” I growl. “He said a pebble.”
“Perhaps that one,” Svetlana says, pointing to a crude rock. “It looks like a severed head. Everyone loves severed heads.”
