Touch of the Demon

With a sigh of regret and a mental promise to return, I closed the library door and headed to the great hall, rather proud of myself when I actually managed to find it with only one or two wrong turns—though I ended up coming in through some sort of antechamber instead of the main corridor. My steps slowed as I entered and saw that Rhyzkahl was far from alone. A slim, dark-haired lord who I could only assume was Jesral and, ugh, Kadir were at the base of the right staircase, while Rhyzkahl stood in the center of the hall with Amkir, apparently in deep conversation.

I dawdled near the door through which I’d entered, since I didn’t want to interrupt, and I sure as hell didn’t want to make some sort of stupid social error. I tried to tell myself that this gave me a chance to see what I could of the other lords, but the drawback to that was they could do the same to me. Kadir’s violet gaze slid to me like an oily touch, and I carefully avoided any eye contact.

Thankfully it was only a few seconds before Rhyzkahl looked my way and gestured me over. Amkir turned and watched as I approached, dark eyes keen upon me like a hawk on a mouse. His predatory regard unnerved me, but I did my best not to show it.

“Kara Gillian,” Rhyzkahl stated in a formal tone. “You are honored by the presence of Lord Amkir.”

I turned my attention to Amkir, fairly sure that his eyes hadn’t left me this whole time. I had a feeling there was some sort of protocol I was expected to follow, but since I was basically clueless I had to hope I could muddle along and fake it. I gave the lord a slight bow. “It is indeed my honor to meet you, Lord Amkir.”

His eyes remained hard upon me, clearly assessing my worth. “Kri,” he murmured, then curled his lip and said another word I didn’t quite catch, though judging from tone and inflection, it probably wasn’t a compliment.

I flicked a glance to Rhyzkahl in hopes that he would either translate or intervene, but he looked away as Jesral called out something to him. He glanced back at Amkir. “I will return.” Then he strode off toward Jesral without another word.

Shit. I really didn’t want to stay here, but even without knowing specific protocols, I had no doubt that ditching this lord would be considered pretty damn rude. I forced a smile for Amkir, reminding myself that I’d been in plenty of social situations where I had to talk to someone with whom I wasn’t totally comfortable. Not that there was much talking going on. He’d yet to say a word to me in English, and I wasn’t about to start a conversation.

“Make yourself useful,” he abruptly said, eyes fiery and face hard. “Bring me wine.” He flicked his gaze toward a table by the wall. Wine and glasses were there, as well as a faas perfectly ready to serve as needed.

I kept my face as immobile as possible. Rhyzkahl was still deep in conversation with his back to me, so there was no hope of rescue from that quarter. Fine then. I had no desire to make a scene. I could suck up some hazing for a few minutes. I gave Amkir a tight nod and smile, then turned and headed for the wine. I poured quickly and returned at a brisk walk, though not from any desire to leap to his bidding. I simply wanted to get this shit over with.

“Your wine, Lord Amkir,” I said, holding the glass out for him.

He made no move to take the glass from me. “You dare offer me that which you have touched?” His lip curled in revulsion. “Pour again and do so properly,” he ordered. His right hand twitched as if he was barely holding himself back from striking me for my affront.

I took two steps back from him, just in case, then turned and went back to the damn wine table, mentally tracing the stupid fucking pygah to calm my impulse to tell Amkir where he could shove his wine glass. I poured again, this time holding the glass in a napkin. Rhyzkahl still hadn’t glanced my way and seemed intent on his discussion with Jesral, but by this point I’d decided that I’d give Amkir his fucking wine and then go wait somewhere else. Because this was bullshit.

“Chikdah,” he murmured as I returned, followed by something else that probably was not Thank you, oh so much! I didn’t need to know the language to know that “chikdah” meant “cunt” or something equally charming. Yeah, this asshole was a regular sweetheart.

Too late, I remembered that the lords could still read surface thoughts. Amkir’s eyes blazed with anger as he snatched the glass from my hand. Before I had time to even flinch, he threw the wine in my face, then hurled the glass toward the wall.

I gasped in shock. “Are you fucking kidding me? What is your goddamn issue, asshole?” Instantly, I knew my response was a mistake. It was as if I watched the words come out of my mouth in slow motion, completely unable to stop the torrential flow.

Amkir snarled in what could only be satisfaction. With lightning speed he lifted a hand and open-hand slapped me in a strike that sent me staggering. Even as I reeled back he stepped toward me, hand raised for another strike. I lashed out at him with a punch to the chest that sent him stumbling back awkwardly…

…and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t actually touched him.

Grove power thrummed through and over me as I faced Amkir. I was pretty sure I looked awesome as shit, glowy and all, but I wasn’t about to stop and check myself out in the nearest mirror.

Black fury filled Amkir’s face as he recovered. Strands of potency like long writhing whips coalesced in one fist as he regained his footing, and I had no doubt he intended to put my ass down.

I heard Rhyzkahl shout something in demon. I couldn’t understand the word, yet I had a sense of the meaning nonetheless—an unexpected benefit of holding the grove power. Hold or something close to it. But Amkir either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him. Snarling, he drew back his hand and lashed the whips of potency toward me.

Crying out, I threw my hands up while I struggled to form the power I held into some sort of block or shield. Rhyzkahl moved with demonic lord speed, catching Amkir’s wrist so that only three of the lashes barely grazed me. Even the light graze stung like crazy. Rhyzkahl snarled something to Amkir, the gist of which seemed to be “stand down.”

“Kara Helene Gillian. Subside now,” Rhyzkahl said over his shoulder in an I am SO not fucking around voice.

I held the power, breath coming raggedly, but I knew there was no way for me to win this. I was going to have to trust Rhyzkahl to keep Amkir from turning me into bloody mist. I released the power and straightened, controlling the shudder as normal sensation returned. I gave Amkir a parting sneer and turned, back prickling as I stalked to the door, absolutely certain that I’d get a ball of power between the shoulder blades any second now. I was almost shocked to reach the door unscathed.

As soon as I ducked through and shut the door behind me I began to tremble. What the fuck just happened? I wondered, utterly bewildered and shaken. I began to pace in an attempt to burn off the excess adrenaline. What the hell had I done to warrant that attack?

My steps slowed as I felt a flare of potency beyond the door. I heard and felt a crack, and then the potency faded, only to be replaced by voices raised in argument. I wasn’t holding the grove power anymore, but some of the sense of the words still came through to me. Something from Amkir about some important thing that had to be completed, and something from Rhyzkahl about getting the fuck out of his fucking palace.

I felt a change of pressure in the air behind me. I spun, expecting another attack, but to my shock it was a syraza, swaying and breathing heavily.

I stared for barely a split second before throwing myself at her and wrapping her in an embrace. I’d only seen her in syraza form for a couple of minutes after I’d summoned her back on Earth, but I knew without a doubt who this was.

“Eilahn,” I said, nearly crying in relief at the sight of her. “Holy shit, you’re okay. I missed you. Oh, man.” Okay, maybe I was really crying.

She chimed in worried tones and wrapped arms around me. “What have you done? What have they done?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, gulping back tears of relief and joy. “I didn’t grovel when I was supposed to, I guess, and one of those dickwad lords tried to smack me down.” I held her close, so insanely glad to have her here. “Rhyzkahl stopped him, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.” I gave a weak laugh.

She pulled back enough to run hands over me and search my face, as if making absolutely certain I was untouched. “Here is more complicated than Earth because you do not know all the rules,” she told me, but her eyes were dark with worry.

I grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” I pushed back the wave of homesickness and hugged her again. “I’m so damn glad to see you.” A tremble went through her, and I looked up at her, worried. “Are you all right?” Now I could see that she seemed almost transparent, without the lovely shimmering vibrancy the other syrazas had. “Do you need to sit?”

She folded not very gracefully to a semi cross-legged position, one knee pulled up against her chest. “Better thus, Kara. I left stasis when I felt your distress, but I will be all right for a while. You sit and tell me what happened.” Her eyes stayed upon me, assessing.

I sat down beside her, and she curled a wing around me. I gave her a rundown of what happened, trying hard not to leave out any detail in case she could point out something I’d done to set the asshole lord off.

“Amkir most assuredly goaded you,” Eilahn said once I’d finished. “Yet I cannot fathom why.” She tilted her head and gave me a look that told me she knew just how I could be when pushed. She trilled and chimed softly. “To assure that you were not harmed, Lord Rhyzkahl laid hands upon Amkir.” She made a sharp little sound. “Intervention by arcane means would have been a much cleaner way. Not as many complications. It would have certainly stopped Amkir, though it may not have done so before he loosed upon you.” She shook her head, then let out a soft, trilling laugh. “You do get yourself into trouble when I am not with you, do you not?”

I smiled weakly. “It’s my nature.” Then I gave a soft sigh. “I’m so glad you’re all right.” My brow furrowed. “You are all right, aren’t you?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">