Page 32 of Bargain with the Demon King
"Thank you," I tell Azzaron as we near the fortress. "For the gifts. For letting me explore. For not laughing at my enthusiasm."
"Your enthusiasm is..." He pauses, searching for words. "Refreshing."
"You mean exhausting."
"That too." But there's warmth in his voice that makes my chest tight. "Though watching you threaten that vendor with aggressive optimism was worth the delay."
"I didn't threaten anyone! I simply suggested that his prices would attract more customers if he smiled occasionally. It's basic economics."
"You told him his face would crack less if he practiced joy."
"That's helpful advice!"
We enter the fortress, and the familiar weight of stone and shadow settles around us. But something feels different. Lighter. Like I've brought some of the market's chaos back with me.
"Chad would laugh at me getting this excited over demon markets," I say, running my fingers over the fabric thatshifts between textures. "He thinks I'm too easily impressed. Says I'd find wonder in a mud puddle."
"Would you?"
"Probably. Mud puddles reflect the sky, you know. It's like holding heaven in holes in the ground." I glance up at him. "That's the thing Chad doesn't understand—choosing to see beauty isn't weakness. It's survival."
We walk in comfortable silence until we reach our chambers. I should go to my room, sort through my treasures, write mental poetry about markets and monsters. But Azzaron stops at his door, turns to face me with an expression I can't read.
"Would you like to visit him?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with implications I don't understand.
"Visit who?"
"Chad." The name falls from his lips like a stone. "Would you like to see him?"
Joy erupts through me—immediate, overwhelming, guilty. "Yes! Oh hells, yes. Is that possible? Can you do that? I could see Chad?"
"Tomorrow." His expression remains unreadable, carved from the same stone as his fortress. "If you want."
"Yes. Please. Yes." I'm practically vibrating with excitement, clutching my market treasures. "I have so much to tell him. About the soul-stones and the markets and the tiny dragons that aren't dragons. He won't believe any of it, but—"
"Tomorrow then."
He disappears into his chambers before I can thank him properly. I stand in the corridor, overwhelmed by competing emotions. Joy at seeing Chad. Guilt for how much fun I had today without him. Confusion at Azzaron's sudden offer.
I enter my room and spread my treasures on the bed. The fabric ripples through states of matter. The fruit glows softly, promising flavors that don't exist in my world. The necklace sits warm against my skin, pulsing faintly with its own rhythm.
Chad would say these are unnecessary. That I'm too easily pleased by shiny things. That practical gifts mean more than pretty ones.
But today, wandering the demon market with Azzaron, I felt more seen than I have in years. He noticed what I touched, what made my eyes light up, what made me laugh. He bought me things just because they brought me joy.
Tomorrow I'll see Chad. My love. The man I sold my soul for. I should be thinking only of him, but instead I'm remembering Azzaron's hand on my back, guiding me through crowds. The way he watched me explore with something almost like fondness. How he didn't mock my enthusiasm or tell me to be quieter, calmer, less.
Tomorrow I'll see Chad, and everything will make sense again. I'll remember why I made my bargain. Why he's worth any price.
But tonight, wearing a demon's gift around my neck and surrounded by impossible treasures, I'm not sure I want things to make sense. Maybe some beauty needs to stay complicated. Maybe that's what makes it worth finding.
Through the adjoining wall, I hear Azzaron moving. Restless sounds, pacing. Whatever tomorrow brings, he's given me today. A perfect, chaotic, beautiful day where someone saw my joy and chose to nurture it instead of dim it.
That's more than Chad's done in months.
The thought should sting. Instead, I run my thumb over the twilight stone of the necklace. It pulses with a faint, steady warmth against my skin, a silent counterargument to years ofhollow gestures. I feel grateful. Tomorrow I'll see Chad and remember why I love him.
