Page 35 of Devil's Doom

There are a few gasps from the mamunas, a murmur from one of the guests, a surprised chuckle from the other dragon.

The silver guard narrows his eyes at me, clearly suspicious. Horns slowly grow out of the sides of his head, and he juts his chin out, letting out a cloud of smoke through his nose.

“No, she doesn’t,” he hisses, advancing on me. “You’re lying!”

I don’t need to pretend to be scared as I cringe away from him, my fear as real as the child in my arms. Everyone around us is stunned into silence as the dragon stands too close, towering above me.

“Please, sir,” I choke out. “Just see her legs. I’m sorry, sir!”

The rot is a venereal disease that’s spread in the city in recent months. There is no protection against it yet, although healers and apothecaries work hard to come up with a cure. Lech told me about it once, and the little I know has to be enough.

As the dragon huffs with impatience and turns away, going to Rada, I rally all my magic into a net of illusion that I cast upon my friend.

Pus. Yellow, putrid discharge running down her legs. Rotten stink. Putrefaction. Oozing, infected, disgusting. Thick, yellow snot rolling down her skin like slugs. Rotten eggs. Rotten fish. Illness and death. Sick, sick, sick. The smell of puke and shit.

I’ve only once managed to create an illusion of a smell, and I focus hard to do it again. The dragon grabs Rada’s wrist and tugs her a step down from where she stands.

As he roughly pulls up her long skirt, everyone in the room recoils, sounds of disgust tumbling out from many throats. I swallow with difficulty, my gorge rising.

The insides of her beautifully shaped legs are covered with a kind of oozing mucus I’ve never seen in my life before. It’s yellow and green, and it stinks so much, my eyes water. The dragon stumbles away with a sound of horror, dropping Rada’s skirt.

If the situation weren’t so dangerous, I’d laugh at his expression. His face is etched in pure shock and horror. It’s magnificent.

A beat passes. Rada sobs once, clutching her stomach. The dragon turns and runs out of the milk bar. Just before the door slams shut, we hear a clear sound of retching.

“Well, I can’t imagine any rebels wanting to stay here with this one,” the remaining dragon says cheerfully. “Men! We’re done!”

Heavy boots thud down the stairs. The dragons leave as one, and Zlotomira bolts the door, leaning back against it with a sigh of relief.

“I swear, a night like this ages me by twenty years at least. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a nightcap—or three. Jolka, pour us all some vodka. It’s on the house.”

Lech comes into the room and takes the pale, shaking Rada in his arms. She falls apart, weeping louder and louder until he carries her up to their room, throwing me a quick look. I rock Dar in my arms, the weight and warmth of the baby soothing me after the ordeal. I follow in their footsteps.

I find them both in bed, Rada draped over Lech and crying into his shirt. He strokes her hair and back, murmuring quiet words of comfort. I rap on the table, and the mamunas send us some melissa brew and three glasses of pure vodka.

After putting Dar in his basket, I pour my drink down my throat, barely feeling the burn. I’m terrified, elated, and still shaking. Rada cries herself to sleep in Lech’s arms, and when she starts snoring softly in the most adorable way, he extricates himself and comes over to me.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks in a whisper. “She kept saying you saved her and that she can never look people in the eyes again.”

I cringe, some of my triumph fizzing out.

“Well, it was the only thing I could think of. I told him she has the rot. And then… I cast a bit of an illusion. Made it seem like I was telling the truth.”

Lech blinks at me a few times. “That would explain why she kept talking about pus.”

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. “Look, I’m sorry. I know she’ll probably be embarrassed for the rest of her life. I should have come up with something better. But… But it worked. They left. He didn’t hurt her.”

Lech nods, his face completely expressionless. I squirm, suddenly feeling unsure. Did I make a mistake? Would Rada rather have been raped? It sounds preposterous, but not completely impossible. I humiliated her, and explaining to the mamunas it was an illusion will be tricky. For one, it was way too good and felt very real. And secondly…

“I lied to a dragon,” I whisper, my eyes big. “Lech, I swear, I didn’t mean to! I mean, I did, but it wasn’t… I didn’t mean it as an act of rebellion! Gods, if they find out and put me to trial, I can’t…”

“Calm down,” he says, his face stony. “You didn’t get caught and you won’t. You did good. I wish I could have kept her safe.”

His mask cracks for a moment, his eyes brimming with pain and regret, but he looks away, and when I blink, the fissure in his control is gone. He gives me a cold, assessing look, and the skin on my nape prickles. It seems like he’s looking for something in my face. Some sort of confirmation.

“What is it?”

Lech shakes his head, then wipes his face with his hand. He looks suddenly exhausted.

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