Page 19 of Bargain with the Demon King
"Perhaps your summoning was particularly loud." But he won't meet my eyes, and his claws drum against his thigh in that rhythm that means discomfort.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting." He moves toward his dinner table. "Join me?"
I retrieve my plate from my chambers—our routine now. No knocking. Just entering and claiming my seat across from him. The familiarity of it feels dangerous and safe simultaneously.
"Tell me about soul values." I cut into meat that tastes too complex for my mortal palate. "Why do some stones glow brighter?"
"Passion affects luminosity. A soul traded for love burns brighter than one traded for gold. Sacrifice for others creates purer stones than selfish desires."
"So my stone must be brilliant. I traded everything for love."
His expression does something complicated. "Your stone is unique."
"Because I loved that completely?"
"Because you believed that completely." He takes a drink, considering his words. "Most mortals who summon me are lying to themselves. They think they want to save their loved ones, but really they want to be seen as the hero who saved them. You genuinely believed you were doing the right thing."
"I was doing the right thing. Chad would have died."
"Yes. He would have." The way he says it makes my stomach twist.
"You judge mortals harshly for someone who profits from their desperation."
"I don't judge them at all. I simply see them clearly." He leans back, studying me. "You're the one who assigns nobility to their choices. Who insists every soul-stone tells a love story."
"Don't they? Everyone who trades their soul does it for something that matters more than eternity. That's beautiful, even if it's tragic."
"It's economic. Supply and demand. Nothing more."
"You can't really believe that." I lean forward, genuinely curious. "After seventeen thousand years of bargains, you must have seen real love. Real sacrifice."
"I've seen obsession dressed as love. Possession masquerading as devotion. Fear of loneliness called romance." He drums his claws against the table. "But pure sacrifice? The kind that expects nothing in return? Perhaps twice."
"Including mine?"
"Especially not yours." Before I can be insulted, he continues. "You expected everything in return. Chad's life, his gratitude, his eternal devotion. You made that bargain believing you'd be rewarded with a love story worth the price."
The words sting because they're not entirely wrong. "Is that so terrible? Wanting to be loved back?"
"No. It's mortal. Beautifully, tragically mortal." His gaze holds mine. "You want to believe everyone shares your capacity for devotion. That Chad is composing epic poems to your sacrifice. That he's desperate to find you."
"He is. He has to be."
"Why? Because you would be?" He leans forward. "Tell me, little optimist—what would you do if someone traded their soul for you?"
"I'd tear apart worlds to get them back." The answer comes instantly, honestly. "I'd never stop searching. Never stop fighting."
"And there's your answer about soul values." His voice goes soft, almost kind. "Your stone burns bright not because of who you saved, but because of who you are. That relentless hope that everyone loves as fiercely as you do."
"That's not naive. That's faith."
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken truths between us. Finally, I ask, "Do you ever regret them? The bargains?"
"No."
