Page 27 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
“Yes, sir. What about her?”
“Leave her. She won’t be moving for a while.”
“Should we monitor her?”
“No. She says she needs privacy to spin, give her privacy. She can’t leave this room, and if she strays too far from this,”—he held up his arm and tapped the brace—“the collar will burn through her neck until it decapitates her.”
Even the attendant looked a little queasy at that. “Yes, sir.”
And with that, King Salen turned on his heel and strode away. Blessedly, the pain ceased when he left the room. The guards moved around her, removing the golden threads and bringing more straw in. Aryana sensed their footsteps as they stepped over her as if she were nothing more than a bag of grain.
Move. She needed to move. Get up. If she could only convince her body to respond. But it betrayed her. Whenever she tried to rise, her limbs screamed in agony as if the king were relaunching one of his attacks through the collar.
When King Salen’s attendants had finished their work, she heard the door click shut and lock behind them again. With the metal controller on her throat, she doubted even Zarathos’s plan of escape would free her from this new form of imprisonment.
Chapter 11
Zarathos
Zarathos glided through the trees, moving from shadow to shadow. Folding himself from one to the next proved easy. They called to him. He longed for the days when he had boundless energy. Endless power. Now all he could do was shift between them and manipulate them in close quarters.
And even that simple skill he had to hide.
And yet, they belonged to him. A part of him, and he was a part of the darkness.
When he came within a half-mile of his destination, he walked the rest of the way. A demon stood guard, always on the camp’s left side around this time, when Zarathos or his servant, Pithian,might stop by. This male was under a bargain to keep the arch king’s identity a secret.
Upon nearing where his contact should be, Zarathos moved into the shadows, not enveloping himself in them, just stepping into them as any demon would do to hide their presence. He pulled the cloak’s hood up over his head, large enough to cover his horns as well. The demon guard stood languidly, with red skin and five short spiked points that shot out of his forehead, marking him from Kingdom Inferna.
Zarathos stepped through the trees. The demon gave a slight nod. “Master,” he said.
“Bring me to Sabious.”
“Yes, master.”
Satisfaction settled in him. Pithian should take note. If all who made bargains with him showed this level of deference and never argued, Zarathos’s life would be much simpler.
The demon didn’t speak as he escorted the arch king through the back side of the camp. Demon merchants from different nations filled the front of the semi-permanent encampment. Stands that sold and hawked goods: foods, tools, even some with crafts of artistic value. Many who came rotated with the seasons like other traveling merchants. Only a few remained throughout the year.
Sabious was included amongst these permanent residents. Zarathos paid him enough to ensure that he stayed put.
This was the sole market with such a variety of demons. Subjects from all the kingdoms mingled here. Most didn’t realize, but theprimary reason stemmed from this location being under the arch king’s protection. Sabious’s safety was Zarathos’s security.
But it was daytime, so the market wasn’t running at the moment. Nightfall brought its awakening, teeming with demons and those seeking advantageous bargains. However, one must be careful because a single wrong word of insult or even insinuations of such could culminate in deadly brawls. Though Zarathos himself had never attended the night markets, he’d received enough information from Pithian or others to understand how it functioned.
The demon guard motioned to Zarathos as they eased through the back of a large tent. “I will tell them you have arrived. Please wait here, master.”
He departed. It didn’t take long for the potions dealer to arrive. Sabious entered the tent. This was the spot where they made most of their purchases, so they remained close by, especially when they knew Zarathos was coming.
Sabious swept in with their usual flair. Today they donned a garment combining dress and suit elements, bisected down the center. The eyeliner they wore accented their impish eyes. Sabious originated from kingdom Misophae, being half-imp and a mix of some lower land devil from Terra Monstrum. “Why, Your Majesty, how good to see you. What has it been, a couple of days since we last saw each other?” Sabious bowed, and Zarathos finally felt comfortable enough to let down his hood.
“I assume you have the potions I requested from you.”
“Always so to the point. No, ‘I missed you, too’ for your dear Sabious? After all, I’m moving mountains for you with these unorthodox, time-sensitive requests.”
“Do you have them or not?” Usually Zarathos was the one who liked to play games with others, but with Sabious, he found it better to be direct.
They released a long, drawn-out sigh. “Do you ever doubt me?” They dipped a hand into each pocket and lifted out two potions. The first appeared a hazy charcoal hue—the one he needed for Aryana. The other, the clear potion, proved even more uncommon. Neutrolisis.
