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He sat back on his haunches, his tail slapping the ground. I guess I’ll have to accept your apology since neither of us have any other friends.
I dragged a hand down my face, smiling up at him, even as my soul felt like it was being split in two. “We’re in a sad state.”
He whimpered, his tail slapping the ground. We are.
I pushed off from him, pacing the ground while being careful not to trip over any new roots. “But take it from me. We’re not going to change our circumstances by sulking.”
He gave me a curious look. What do you propose we do?
I punched the air, feeling a sudden surge of confidence, though I feared it was probably an act of desperation by my fool heart. “We go to that temple and demand they accept us.”
His luminous eyes narrowed. And if that doesn’t work?
I shrugged, slanting a smile. “Then we grovel.”
He shrank, looking at me as if I had a contagious disease. We should probably skip straight to the groveling.
My shoulders fell as his words sunk in. “Yeah.”
Are you going to walk there, he asked, or do you need a lift?
I perked up at that. “A lift would be great, but maybe this time I could ride on your back.”
His low, dark laughter shook the marrow of my bones. Not until you get rid of your parasite.
“Fair enough,” I said, ignoring Nox’s cursing.
Chapter Five
Selig
Selig tried to remain still as the new King Fachnan paced his bedchamber floor, dragging his leg behind him. A cool northern wind from the open balcony doors blew the crumbs from his scraggly beard while bringing with it the pungent smells of the ocean. His gaze kept flitting to the two dragons circling overhead, crimson rays from the evening sun piercing the thin membranes on their wings. He feared they were still determining if they wanted to protect their king or incinerate him. Truthfully, Selig had thought about running a blade through the demon king’s back more than once.
The thing about demons, Selig never knew which parasite would accept the call when he infected a mortal. He could get a powerful demon, like the one that inhabited Duke Viggo or even Lady Arabella, or he could get a weak demon like the one who now possessed his brother, for Thorin’s mind-spinning spells were nowhere near as powerful as they used to be.
Of course, the demon could only be as powerful as the host’s body would allow, which was why the demon possessing Selig didn’t have much magic. Selig considered himself a decent mage, though he hadn’t been as magically blessed as his brother. He had only limited mind-reading and persuasive powers.
This demon inhabiting Fachnan was either weak, or else restricted by a partially decayed corpse. Selig had managed to stop the decay from progressing with a few potions, though the king still walked like a corpse risen from the dead.
Even worse, the demon didn’t appear to be very bright. At first Selig thought it was his restricted movements, but he’d run into too many doorframes, had tried to eat a pillow cushion, and had frightened away all servants, male and female, and the castle hounds by groping them without permission. And when he couldn’t find anyone or anything to fuck, he’d humped the same pillow he’d tried to eat until the feathers had busted the seams. But the most telling sign of all was that Selig couldn’t read the creature’s mind. He had tried many times but was met with a white wall of mist. The demon wasn’t smart enough to block him, which meant the beast simply didn’t have any thoughts. He was a primal monster, focused only on eating and fucking.
As a result of his oafish mannerisms, more guards and servants had disappeared, leaving behind just that one courier from Windhaven and a few servants who refused to leave the kitchens. Selig feared his few loyal dragon riders would soon disappear. What would they do without guards, servants, or an army? Demon Fachnan would be a king without anything to rule.
The demon king stopped pacing long enough to scowl at Selig, his lip hanging lower than normal, the stitches having come loose as white puss oozed from the cut. “The dragons aren’t listening to me.”
“The dragons and their riders never respected Fachnan,” Selig answered.
The king arched a brow, or what the shifter attack had left of his brow, leaving behind thick scars that crisscrossed his entire face and only a few patches where his long, silvery hair and brows used to be. “Why?”
“Because he wasn’t a rider,” Selig answered.
The demon’s eye widened, then narrowed, and Selig feared the spark in his mind could lead to a conflagration. “I need a dragon of my own. Find me a dragon corpse.”
“There are none,” Selig answered flatly.
“None?” He gave the mage an accusatory look. “After three countries just went to war?”
Selig had to work hard to keep a straight face. He’d told the demon king everything that had happened with the confrontation between the three armies four times already. “The dragons didn’t fight, and even if one had died, dragonkind would incinerate the body before we could take it.”
