Page 32 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

Isiodore inclined his head, not quite enough of a bow to settle the dominance rattling about in Emile like a living creature. “Emile, be sensible for once. This was an attempt to get to you, most likely, so perhaps it’s best not to deliver yourself to them without some protection. Covert protection, but all the same….”

“If you’re referring to whatever cadre of spies you have overseeing the harbor, perhaps you should find better ones who know when the king’s submissive and his brother have been kidnapped,” Emile snapped. Isiodore liked to pretend his reach wasn’t as far as the borders of Staria, but Emile knew better. It must have rankled for something like this to slip past Isiodore’s watch. “See that they’re discreet, Izzy.” He’d apologize for the temper tantrum later. Emile turned to Flick, who was staring up at him, gold eyes sparkling. “Do you understand what discretion means, fox?”

YES, BUT I CHOOSE TO IGNORE IT BECAUSE IT IS NOT FUN, the fox replied, and then climbed up Emile’s trouser leg like an overgrown cat. Emile felt a slight chill—this creature was a demon, an unnatural thing of magic and shadow—but he didn’t trust the little fox not to go gallivanting into danger, so he didn’t put him down. Flick rolled over in his arms, paws in the air.

MY BOY HOLDS ME LIKE THIS, Flick said, as their small group headed down the palace hallways at a brisk march. SOMETIMES HE SINGS TO ME.

“You won’t get any singing this time,” Emile said, and Flick sighed heavily, tail lashing the air as Emile strode for the palace entrance.

* * *

It was possibly the most embarrassing kidnapping Baz had ever seen.

For one, none of their captors had considered that they were dealing with two submissives who had been trained—professionally, in Baz’s case—to slip out of bindings just in case a dominant had made a mistake with their knots. For another, they didn’t think about the fact that all Hektor had to do was step outside the magical symbols in the floor to harness his magic again, and none of them were prepared for Hektor’s unique brand of magic.

“Dragon!” someone shouted outside, as Hektor whistled a spell through the keyhole. Baz gave him a curious look, and Hektor grinned.

“I’d be strung up for mimicking an Old One in Mislia,” he said, “but maybe I sent an illusion out there to stir up trouble.”

“So long as the navy doesn’t get involved.” Baz stepped over the markings and immediately felt his demon rush back into his mind. She was dizzy with panic, and Baz pushed Hektor aside as the door to their makeshift cell burst into flowering vines. Light poured through the opening, and Baz took Hektor’s hand as he stepped over the mass of vines on the floor.

The ship was in a state of chaos. There were vines and flowering plants creeping up both sides of the hull and binding unfortunate sailors to the railings, and the few who remained were too busy trying to run from a gleeful dragon to pay much attention. Hektor whistled, and the dragon burst into illusory flame, which landed on the deck and spread like a real fire.

“One day I’ll figure out how to add heat to it,” Hektor said, like an artist examining an unsatisfactory painting. Baz sighed and tugged on his hand.

“Perfect your spells later. Can you make a bridge to the dock for us?”

“A real bridge, or a fake one?”

“A real bridge!”

Hektor rolled his eyes as someone screamed behind him. A figure leapt into the water to avoid the flames crawling up the masts. Eventually, someone had to notice they weren’t burning anything.

“I mean, I can make it look like a real bridge,” Hektor said, and Baz leaned over the railing. He called on his girl, who was clearly exhausted, and he could almost feel her sigh as heavy vines started growing from the hull. They latched onto the dock across the water, and Baz helped Hektor down as yet another sailor flung himself off the edge.

“You know, you could probably overthrow a country with that kind of talent,” Baz said, climbing down after him. The vines were sturdy enough, but soft, so he had to get on his hands and knees to climb across.

“Maybe,” Hektor said, “but what would I do with one, anyway? That was the trouble when I thought I might be Archmage for about half a month. I don’t know how Emile does it.”

“Begrudgingly,” Baz said, grabbing Hektor by the back of the collar before he could slip off the vines. “Careful, Hex.”

“I’m not a kid, Baz. Besides, I’ve climbed plenty of rickety sets at the theater.” Hektor dragged himself onto the dock, and Baz staggered after him. The vines withered and sank into the dark water, and Hektor stared at the sails that burned merrily without actually producing smoke.

“Should I keep it going, do you think? It just seems cruel. Look, that one fellow is trying to put out the fire with his shirt.”

“They kidnapped you,” Baz reminded him, “so yes, keep it going.”

“Flick would love this,” Hektor said fondly, and Baz shook his head, taking Hektor by the shoulders.

That’s when he saw them. Isiodore and Sabre were difficult to miss—they walked like soldiers, and Isiodore’s dominance was hard to ignore even from a distance—but Emile was at their back, holding something in both arms. It took a second for him to realize it was Flick, who wriggled out of Emile’s hold as soon as he saw Hektor and went bouncing over.

MY BOY

I BROUGHT FRIENDS

CONSIDER YOURSELF RESCUED

“Oh, sorry, Flick.” Hektor laughed as Flick pranced around him. “I think Baz and I handled that already.”

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