OLIVE
As soon as I arrived home, I reported my findings to my dad.
“That doesn’t sound like Aethrons,” was his first response. We were in the armory hollow, a wide chamber carved into the heartwood of Yggdrasil. Lantern-light flickered on the polished bark walls, where racks of spears and bows leaned in tidy rows. The scent of oiled leather and steel filled the air.
Dad sat on a low bench, polishing his sword with practiced care. I knelt nearby, rubbing his helmet with a cloth until the bronze gleamed.
“That sounds more like Bubblewisp,” Dad went on. “Aethrons’ bubbles don’t really float that high.”
“But the bubbles were the size of my fist. They’re much too big,” I retorted, having come to the same conclusion earlier. “Besides, it’s the wrong season. Their migratory paths would have them further north.”
“It could be something new,” Dad said, sliding the blade back into its sheath. “I’ll need to investigate it.”
“Can I go with you?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said, then shook his head. “But not right now. I have to ride down to Drowsend to report the battle between the lizardmen and the river clans. Your mother will be coming with me.”
I frowned, and grabbed one of Mom’s Vambrace, rubbing at a stubborn spot. “But what if the forest is in danger? This could wreak havoc on the ecosystem.”
“The forest will be fine. It’s survived a long time.” He glanced at me, and seeing my pouting face, he added, “Besides, it has you protecting it—my little demonslayer.” He winked.
“I didn’t slay any demons,” I mumbled, staring at the smudge.
“That’s not how Alaric made it sound. I’m surprised we aren’t dealing with suitors already.”
My eyes widened. Suitors? Jorren—no. Reed—ew. Dain? He’s too obsessed with demibeings to notice anyone else. Though Mira would probably want me to marry him, just so we could be sisters. Emma—? Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I shook the thought away as fast as it came.
Dad kept going. “We should probably give Olivander a big stick to beat them back with.”
He paused when he noticed my tomato-red cheeks. With a chuckle, he relented and waved me off. “That’s enough polishing for tonight. Off to bed, Olive.”
***
LUCARION
I was kneeling on the makeshift bed trying to teach Flicker to sit, but he wasn’t listening. I should have added obedient to the contract requirements.
Heavy, quick footsteps headed towards the study. They grew closer until they stopped right outside.
The door swung open and Flicker stood up and brilliantly jumped… behind my bed.
And there was a familiar overly zipped figure. Dormathis.
He was flanked by a young demon—no, an Eclipseran girl—and Magnavex’s imp, sprawled on the ground. I recognized the imp by its ridiculously small overcoat, though maybe all imps dressed that way. Dormathis and the girl walked in, shutting the door behind them and leaving the imp outside.
The girl looked like she’d been stitched together from shadows. Her hair was black as tar, tipped in a sickly violet that gleamed faintly in the lantern light. A strip of cloth the color of dried blood was tied around her throat like a choker, its edges ragged. She wore a layered tunic of ashen gray and pitch, shredded unevenly at the hem, with threads that seemed to curl and drift like smoke when she moved. Net-like sleeves clung to her arms, the gaps stitched with tiny silver rings shaped like half-moons. Her belt was a twisted cord of bone-white leather, chains dangling from it like captured spiderwebs. Heavy boots, cracked and scarred, clunked softly on the floor with every step.
“My Lord,” Dormathis said, bowing effortlessly.
“My Lord,” the girl echoed, dipping low, though her eyes rolled ever so slightly as she rose.
I stood up on the bed, giving me the same height as Dormathis. “Yes, hi,” I said, realizing what I must look like. I was in my tearstained silk pajamas, my hair was probably a mess, hell, my eyes had to be puffy.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one focused on my appearance.
“You look horrible,” Dormathis said. The girl gave a sharp little inhale, almost a laugh, then bit it back when he seized my hand.
They were still bandaged from earlier, so I don’t know how he could tell, though they did sting a little. It was actually getting quite uncomfortable—I had never had an injury for so long.
“Hold still,” he said dryly, approaching with a bound tome in hand. Dormathis opened the book and ripped out a page, lightly flicking it forward. It snapped with a flash of green light—
—and the canopy bed from before materialized in the center of the room.
It was enormous, alive. The bed’s frame twisted like grown bone or fossilized branches, curling upward into clawed arches that cradled the semi-transparent canopy. The “fabric” was webbed with faint veins, pulsing as though it breathed. Saliva-glossed tendrils unfurled from the base and rearranged themselves into a shallow cradle before my eyes, as if welcoming me back.
This was when realization cut in… this was a demon.
After some convincing, I climbed into the demon-bed.
“You’re still undergrown,” he muttered, He dragged a chair into place, sat, and closed his eyes, as though the matter were resolved.
The girl shifted, gaze flicking between us. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, but stood rooted, boots tapping faintly.
I broke the silence. “I was wondering if you knew how to take better care of hellhounds.” Flicker crawled closer, tongue lolling hopefully, though his tail still smoldered against the floorboards.
She blinked at me, unimpressed. “Take care?” She gave me a look that only Jorren had given me before, like I was stupid.
“Yes, if he is going to be my dog I need to know how to treat him well,” I said patting Flicker on the head. His tail started wagging.
Her lips twisted. “Demons don’t need your… treats. They grow stronger the more mana you give them. Everyone knows that.”
Mana. I didn’t. But I nodded. “Of course. Mana. I meant—special techniques. Ways to give Flicker more.”
Dormathis’s eyes shot open at that. “Of course there is a technique for increasing your mana capacity. Indolyn will teach you,” he said with absolutely no tact at all.
Her head snapped toward him. “I will?”
“He’s too powerful to be left untrained. Dormathis said. “He needs focus. Teach him.”
“You want me to train him in meditative prayer?” she asked, sounding like she’d just suggested asking a fish to recite poetry.
“Yes,” he said replied. “Who else?”
“I have duties to fulfill,” she started. Her voice had a bite, but her gaze flicked back to me, softening. “If… my Lord wishes.”
“I’ll deal with your duties,” he said.
“If she doesn’t want to—” I began
The door swung open.
Magnavex swept in, all authority.
“My Lord,” she said to me with a bow, then strode forward, standing between me and the rest. “Why are you disturbing his rest?” Her glare shot straight at Dormathis.
“I’m already well rested.” I tried to say, but their argument drowned me out.
“I was checking on his health. Why didn’t you tell me his fingers were injured?” he droned, Indolyn gestured to my hands in support.
“I was handling it.” Magnavex said raising her chin.
“Handling it?” his eyes narrowed voice went cold “His health is my responsibility”
Dormathis exhaled. “Not the most important matter. Indolyn will train him, in his meditations, I’m surprised you hadn’t already started training him”
Magnavex arched a brow. “I was letting him get acclimated”
“he is acclimated enough, Indolyn take him somewhere you can concentrate properly” Indolyn shifted, halfway to the door, but Magnavex snapped her fingers and the imp scuttled into the way, blocking it.
“Not now,” Magnavex countered. “Our Lord needs rest. And breakfast. I will escort him later.”
“Actually,” I cut in repeating myself, “I’m already well rested.” Before she could respond I turned to Indolyn. “Have you eaten breakfast?”
She gave me a look that said eating breakfast was beneath her but said. “No, my Lord.”
“Then why don’t we all eat together?” I asked.
Flicker barked in agreement.