Page 425 of Flirting with Darkness

Father is in his office, back to the door, rifling through the volumes of texts stacked two deep in his bookcases.

A new pipe sits on his desk, half packed with tobacco, as if inspiration suddenly struck him.

“Father, I—”

“Not now, Liesl, I have much to prepare for. Go back to your chamber.”

“There’s someone you need to meet, Father,” I insist.

But the man who taught me everything about everything doesn’t turn around. He keeps tilting books toward him, searching for the right one.

“Father!” I have to shout before he faces me.

The question on his expression fades fast as he catches sight of the beautiful raven-haired fae on my left.

“This is the fae king I tried to tell you about. As you can see, he matches no descriptions of the demons in theArs Goetia. I worked my way through all seventy-two names, and not a single one is his.”

Father grips the edge of his desk, as if the world has suddenly tipped to the left.

I know exactly how that feels.

“You’re not here to steal my soul, then?” Father wheezes.

“Not in the slightest.”

“And you don’t wish to bring about the end of times on earth?”

“Quite the contrary. I rather like it here, however much I’d have preferred not to spend so much time here against my will.”

Father sucks in a breathless gasp and collapses to the ground.

10

Mother can’t help fawning over him as we all sit at the dining table. He said one word about the potatoes being buttery and she hasn’t stopped blushing and offering scoop after scoop. The king’s eaten so many potatoes, I fear he’ll soon become one himself.

Truthfully, I can’t blame her. Who wouldn’t fawn over a fae king with knowledge of all things occluded and sacred, as he’s been so kind to demonstrate to Father for the last hour?

But only after Father worked his way through all seventy-two names himself. He managed it a lot faster than I had.

“Ancient texts get some things right, but more often, crucial details and cultural context get lost or go missing entirely. Without the framework of the culture, of the mores, and people’s attitude of the time, messages are often corrupted, sometimes to such a great extent they have the opposite meaning entirely.”

“So if demons aren’t evil…” Father caught on quicker than I, that if you want to ask the fae king a question, you’d best not frame it as such.

“They’re simply usurped, banished, or fallen gods of old. They are the original old ones of this universe, full of ancient knowledge. Many a witch devotes herself to one or more of these entities because of the knowledge they possess.”

“And they have no interest in taking over the world.”

The king nods graciously at Father’s statement. “They do not. Nor do I, for that matter.”

The end of Father’s nose goes bright red, as do the tips of his ears. “I don’t know how I can ever apologize for that.”

“Typically, I’d demand servitude from you for an equal amount of time,” the king says flatly.

Father’s face goes gray and his fork falls from his fingers. Mother stops piling potatoes onto the king’s plate. “That is fair and just. If you’ll allow me time to set my affairs in order and make sure my family is taken care of.”

The king raises his hand. “You misunderstand me, sir. I’m not asking for that. Your daughter is all the payment I need.”

“Payment?” I screech.

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