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I’m almost there when a door opens somewhere nearby.
All at once, I’m abandoned, his fingers and lips gone for cool air that washes over me. And a voice from the hall speaks. “Thonir is waiting for you in the study, my Prince.”
Before I can even comprehend, a voice much closer speaks, one quite familiar to my ear, terse with irritation. “I’ll be there in a moment.” I crane my neck to listen as he pushes in his chair, and without another word, walks away.
An unrequited sob finds me.
But the meaning is not lost on me. My Prince, the dark elf said, linking all the clues together with a single phrase. So, it was a Prince that rescued me from the arena, risking his noble life to save me, only to claim me as his own.
A shudder courses through me, making my limbs shiver. It is not so cold as the cell they threw me in, but the sash around my waist is hardly enough to keep me warm in the absence of him. A Prince? Does that mean he’s related to the Demon King?
He didn’t introduce himself as such.
In fact, he didn’t introduce himself at all. He made not a motion or gesture to his high standing among the other demons, and I wonder if he intended to keep it that way. He didn’t sound all too pleased when the slave called him out by his title.
Maybe he never wanted me to know.
40
REJ’THOREK
“I hear I missed quite a hunt.” Thonir’s voice is dry as ever. “Not that I’m here to talk about your nine thousandth razorfiend trophy.”
“Well.”
It’s difficult to focus. I’m here in my study, next to my stone desk and private books, surrounded by the mounts of my largest kills. But I’m also tasting the human woman, the succulent peaks of her breasts, the delectable valley in between them. I’m hearing her moans and her hitched breaths, and it makes me want to yank on my horns in frustration.
To yank on something at least.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Quite possibly.” I try to turn it all into a joke. If Thonir suspects I’m this obsessed with a human, he’ll think I’ve gone mad. “You see what happens when you leave me unattended, my dear friend?”
He doesn’t laugh at all. Thonir, possibly the most light-hearted demon I know, stares at me with a face of stone. “Have you heard what they’re saying about you at court?”
Court.
I don’t care what a spoiled bunch of layabouts think about anything I do. I’ve never had time for their scheming and plotting. I leave court politics to my brothers, who enjoy that mess. But my father cares about the opinions of his court.
My father cares very much.
I try to bluster my way out of the cold, foreboding pit that’s suddenly engulfed me. “That I’m the best fighter in the realm? I felled a razorfiend and a gilak on the same day.”
“That you broke every rule of the arena!” Thonir, seated in a reclining chair, leaps to his feet and frantically examines my head. “Did the razorfiend crack your skull? Everyone is calling you the Rebel Prince now.”
“That does have a certain flair to it.”
Thonir shoots me a sharp look. “A flair your father will like?”
No.
No, my father does not much care for rebellion.
I cover my unease once more, this time with a shrug. What’s done is done, and the price I will pay for it is none of my friend’s concern. “Let’s talk of more interesting things. How is your family?”
“Oh, they’re doing well. Quite entertained, since some madman leapt–”
“Akos is quite well,” I continue, as if he’s said nothing at all. “His reading has improved immensely, although he prefers to read junk every day.”
