I was standing in front of a flea market stall, wasting gold I didn't have on a woman I was supposed to be killing. I felt stupid about it, but I kept doing it, because it would help win her trust, which was strategic, so I convinced myself it was a tactical expense that I could afford.
The stall was a mess of trinkets and oddities spread across a crooked table. Enchanted pendants with dubious claims. Jars of things with rare ingredients. Bundles of dried herbs tied with twine. The vendor, a wiry woman with a deeply skeptical gaze, observed me as I examined various items, turning them over and putting them back down again.
I had been doing this for twenty minutes.
"The crystal charm is nice," I remarked, holding it up to the light.
"Forty gold."
I put it down and picked up a carved box. "What about this?"
"Sixty gold."
I placed it down, and then picked up a miniature figurine. "And this?"
"Are you going to buy something or are you just going to touch everything on my table?"
"Not with that attitude; I'm not. I'll take my gold elsewhere."
"Oh no," she said, already looking past me at the next customer. "Whatever will I do."
I went to the next stall. This one was run by a heavyset man with a thick beard and kind eyes. Better.
"Whatcha looking for?" he asked.
"Okay, so." I leaned on his table. "What would you get for someone who kills you on a regular basis? Like as a thank you gift. For context, I'm also trying to kill her. So it's sort of a mutual killing situation. She recently put on a three hour musical for me, so I want her to know I appreciate the effort she put into the whole thing."
He looked at me for a long time. "...Kill her?"
"Yes."
"And... you're buying her a gift?"
"To gain her trust. So I can kill her. It's strategic. So, what do you have?"
"Well..." He reached under the table. "How about a locket? Opens up, you can put a little portrait inside —"
"Ehhh."
"What about a nice perfume? I got this one that smells like —"
"No perfume."
"Flowers? I got enchanted roses that don't wilt. Very popular with the ladies."
"She doesn't really strike me as a flower person."
"How about a nice rock?" He placed a smooth, dark stone on the table, about the size of my palm. Its surface was polished and felt cool to the touch. I turned it over in my hands. It caught the light in a way that made me think of the marble in her throne room.
"What does it do?"
"It's a rock."
"Right, but does it have enchantments? Stored mana? Defensive properties?"
"It's just a rock."
I flipped it over once more. It was simple and smooth, and completely useless. The Demon Queen would probably hate it.
"I'm running late," I said. "It'll have to do. How much?"
He waved his hand. "On the house."
"Really?"
"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "I just picked it up off the ground."
I tucked the rock into my bag and headed for the tower.
The tower was peaceful today. I cleared the lower floors on autopilot, waving to Chester and checking in on Ooze (Drip was the size of a grapefruit now, very cute). I also exchanged a quick word with Jun about her joint situation. The upper levels were as expected: nods, waves, Ren immersed in her romance novel, Nyx's head bobbing as its body gave a thumbs up.
I reached for the door and heard something.
Voices coming from inside.
Not Spite or Malice. It was a voice I didn't recognize, followed by the demon queen's voice saying something I couldn't catch and then... laughter. Her laughter.
I pressed my ear to the door.
"— No, but seriously, you should try strength training. Pilates is great for flexibility but if you want definition in the shoulders you need to be loading weight." The voice spoke. "But to be honest, you'll look good no matter what."
"Oh, STOP." Giggling. The demon queen was giggling.
What the hell was this?
I was supposed to wait my turn, followed tower etiquette. You don't interrupt another challenger's encounter; it's rude, like cutting in line at the Resurrection Temple. You wait, they die or leave, and then it's your turn. That’s how it goes.
But they weren't fighting. They were just talking.
I swung the door open.
Both of them looked at me, startled. The Demon Queen was on her throne, leaning forward, chin in hand, with her tail curling around the armrest. In front of her, propped against a column, was a woman.
Blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore armor that was bright pink and looked like it had never been within fifty feet of actual combat. It was polished to a mirror finish, with gold trim and a decorative breastplate that prioritized aesthetics over any measurable form of protection. The sword at her hip matched, ornate and jeweled.
"Ayla," the demon queen said. "You're late."
"Who is this?"
"Hey," she said. "I'm Sami." She extended her hand. I ignored it.
"What are you doing here?"
"Visiting."
"Nobody visits floor 100. People come here to fight. People come here to kill her. Are you here to kill her? Because that's MY job. The bounty, the decree, Victoria's hand, that's MINE. And if you think you can just waltz in here and steal my kill by getting all buddy-buddy and gaining her trust so you can stab her in the back when she's not —"
"Kill her?" Sami said, looking genuinely confused. "Why would I kill her?"
"Because — because that's what people DO here! The tower! Floor 100! The demon queen! The whole POINT is —"
"I'm just here to talk." Sami shrugged. "I came up, she was here, we started talking. She's funny. She's great company." She turned toward the throne, leaning against the column, and came closer to the demon queen. "Not to mention, she's beautiful."
”Oh youuuuu.”
"She — you — that's — she's a MONSTER! She's killed THOUSANDS of people! She explodes anyone who walks through those doors! She's not — you can't just — BEAUTIFUL? She's not —"
Sami sighed wistfully. She looked around the throne room with a faraway expression. "There is so much beauty here, and I don’t mean just the queen." She ran her hand along the column. "I never really had beautiful things growing up. No home. No family. Just me and whatever I could find."
The demon queen leaned forward on the throne, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, it's nothing." Sami waved her hand. "I... I grew up alone. Orphan. Streets. You know how it is." She shrugged. "I figured most things out on my own. No parents to guide me. No one to tell me I mattered. But that's why I appreciate moments like this, you know? Being here. With you. In this beautiful tower. With even more beautiful company."
"You're so brave, Sami. After everything you've been through… no family, no support, no —"
"I'm an orphan too!"
Both of them looked at me. Their faces expressed the same mild discomfort.
"What?" asked the demon queen.
"I'm also an orphan!" I was nodding and smiling, pointing to myself. "I don't have parents either! I've been on my own this whole time! So if we're doing the whole tragic backstory thing, I qualify. I more than qualify. My whole family is dead. That's tragic. So like... I'm brave too, right? For surviving all that? Alone? With no one?"
The demon queen blinked. "Uh. Okay?"
"Okay? Just 'okay'? She gets 'you're so brave' and I get 'okay'? What's the deal? It's cool when she's an orphan but not me? Why, because she's got perfect hair and perfect teeth and perfect —" I was gesturing at Sami now, at the blonde hair and the blue eyes and the stupid pink armor. "I have been climbing this tower for months and DYING and COMING BACK and that's not brave enough? That doesn't count?"
Sami took a step toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Hey kid,” she said softly. "It's okay. Your story matters too —"
I swatted her hand off my shoulder. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me kid. And don’t come up here and act like you have some kind of RAPPORT with her. I’m the only person who shows up here every day to deal with her. ME. Not you. Me. She's MINE!"
“I'm yours?” the demon queen asked. “That’s news to me."
“Shut up! I’m defending your honor!”
“From what?”
“From HER! She’s obviously trying to — she’s — look at her! She’s being NICE to you! Nobody is nice to you for no reason! She wants something!”
"Everyone's pain is valid —" Sami said, nodding at me. "It's okay."
"Can you GO AWAY?"
"Ayla, don't be rude!" The demon queen gasped. "We should all learn the importance of sharing."
"Sharing? Sharing WHAT? She just shows up and suddenly you're best friends? I've been —"
"It's fine," Sami said, stepping back, hands raised. "I should actually get going anyway." She tucked a golden lock of hair behind her ear. "I have to get back to work. Gotta earn enough to feed my siblings. I have twelve of them. I'm basically their mom. It's hard but —." She placed a hand over her heart. "— They're worth it."
I was going to be sick.
"Okay, Sami." The demon queen straightened up. A fleeting expression flickered across her face, as if she were remembering something. "You should go. Don't want to keep them waiting."
"Yeah." Sami nodded, a little too eagerly. "Twelve mouths to feed. Well, thirteen if you count the cat. Rescued him from a —"
"Okay, bye Sami." The demon queen waved her away.
"Right, right, going." Sami headed for the door. As she passed me, she reached over and ruffled my hair. Her hand was on my head, messing it up.
I slapped her hand away. "Stop touching me!"
“Easy, kid. You’ll get wrinkles.” She grinned. “Take it easy.”
She walked away.
Walked. The demon queen let her go. No explosion. She just let Sami stroll out of the 100th floor in her stupid pink armor with her stupid decorative sword.
I turned to the demon queen. She was on her throne, one leg crossed over the other, her tail draped, staring at the door that Sami had just walked out of with a dreamy expression. This made me want to set fire to the column that she'd been leaning against.
"How long?" I said.
She turned. "Hmm?"
"How long has this been going on?"
She shrugged one shoulder, nonchalantly. "I don't know. Like two weeks?"
"TWO WEEKS?"
"Maybe three, I'm not really keeping track."
“You’re not keeping... TWO WEEKS? She’s been coming here for TWO WEEKS and I’m just NOW finding out about it? Who is she? What does she want? Why are you BLUSHING?”
“I’m not blushing, I have rosacea.”
“She’s flirting with you and you’re FALLING for it! She’s gaining your trust! She’s going to get close and then she’s going to stab you in the back! And you're just gonna sit here and let her COMPLIMENT you?”
The demon queen raised an eyebrow. “Should I not let people compliment me?”
“Not HER! Not like THAT! She’s — ugh!” I paced back and forth in the throne room, staff in hand, waving my arms around at nothing. I heard myself, and knew how I sounded, and I couldn't stop.
"You're barely around these days, Ayla." She said. "Now it's, what, twice a month? Did you expect me to just sit up here and wait for you?"
"I didn't STOP showing up! I'm doing guild contracts! I'm working! I have a DEBT because of YOU, because I keep DYING up here, and I've been grinding contracts day and night to pay it off so I can come back! To THIS! To — to us! I'm working for US!"
“For us,” she repeated.
“For THIS. For the — the fighting. The dynamic. The... you know what I mean. So you can’t just replace me with some — some —”
“Nobody’s replacing you, Ayla."
“It feels like someone’s replacing me!” I clamped my mouth shut. I had reached the end of the sentence, and there was nothing safe waiting for me on the other side.
“Go home,” she said.
“What?”
“Go home. Get some sleep. You look terrible.”
“I look — are you — I came up a hundred floors to.... Aren’t you going to —” The punctuation mark on our entire dynamic. “Boom! You know?”
“Not today,” she said. "I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re not in the MOOD? You’re not in the mood to KILL me? You ALWAYS kill me! That’s what we DO! I come up here and you kill me and I come back! That’s the DEAL! You can't just NOT! What am I supposed to do? Just LEAVE?"
"That's what stairs are for."
"This is so INSULTING! Do you know how many floors I climbed to get here? A HUNDRED! And I don't even get EXPLODED? I climbed a HUNDRED FLOORS for you to tell me you're 'not in the mood'?"
"Spite, show her out."
"At once, Your Wickedness!" Spite appeared from behind the throne, gently pushing me toward the door with his tiny hands on my calf. "If you'll follow me, esteemed mage —"
"Get OFF me, Spite."
"No can do!" He kept nudging.
I made my way to the door. I turned around one last time.
"I'm coming back tomorrow," I announced. "And I expect to be EXPLODED."
"We'll see."
"Nother one."
"Honey, you've had six."
I held up one finger. It took me two tries to get the right one.
"One. More."
"I'm cutting you off."
"You can't cut me off, I need this. Ma'am, I am havin' the worst day of my life. Please. This is the one thing that makes me happy right now because a very mean and evil woman ruined my life today—" I lifted my empty glass for emphasis. It slipped in my grip. I caught it against my chest with a clumsy thud. "—this is all I have."
The bartender sighed and grabbed the bottle anyway, pouring a splash into the glass. I took a huge gulp. Half of it dribbled down my chin and soaked into the front of my shirt.
The bartender slid a rag across the counter.
"She didn't even blow me up today."
The bartender stopped cleaning a glass.
"She didn't... blow you...?"
"Today she jus'. Didn't. She told me to go home. Like I'm..." I frowned. "Like she doesn't even want to anymore."
"Maybe she was tired?"
I laughed so hard that two people at the opposite end of the bar glanced my way.
"Two weeks." I slammed the counter. "TWO weeks, and suddenly she's more important than me showing up every single day."
A few drops fell from my glass onto the counter.
"Seven months. You know what I could've done with seven months? I could've been somebody. I could've paid off my debt." I pointed my finger. "But no. I spent it on HER. And she can't even..." I played with my fingers as I struggled to find the right words. "She won't even. Where's the loyalty? Where. Is. The loyalty."
I leaned so far over the counter that my forehead nearly hit it.
"I've been out there busting my ass, taking on contracts, fighting in caves, clearing dens, coming home covered in slime so I can keep going back to her." I jabbed a thumb at my own chest hard enough to wobble on the stool. "And she's up there having the time of her life with someone who's been around for FIVE MINUTES."
"Sounds like she doesn't know what she has."
"She DOESN'T." I pointed at the bartender, then at myself, and somehow ended up pointing at the ceiling. "She doesn't know what she..." I nodded, satisfied that I had figured it out. "I am a CATCH. People would KILL to have me showing up every day. Who is she trying to impress? She's trying to..." I squinted. "Obviously she's..."
The thought escaped.
"You know what I mean?"
"Not really."
"PINK."
The bartender gently placed the mug down and rested her elbows on the counter. "Honey, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"When's the last time you surprised her? Like something romantic. Flowers. A nice dinner. Have you taken her anywhere?"
"It's complicated." I picked up my glass, only to realize it was empty again. "She can't leave the--" Hic. "Tower."
"But are you putting in the effort? Not just showing up and expecting her to notice? Women are complicated. We need to feel wanted. We need to feel chosen. Have you told her how you feel?"
"I had a rock for her." Leaning in, I lowered my voice. "Did I tell you about the rock?"
"You mentioned a rock."
"M'just gonna kill her." I nodded to myself. "I'm gonna. That's what I should've..." Another thoughtful nod. "From the start. Kill her. Marry Victoria. Done. No more rocks. No more climbing."
The bartender repeated, “Kill her...?” She pushed my cup away and brought me a glass of water instead.
I stared at it.
"...This isn't firebrandy."
"No."
"...Can you make it firebrandy?"