Page 5 of Bargain with the Demon King
The path widens, opening onto a ledge. The fortress rises before us, carved directly into the canyon wall. Obsidian and something else, something that glows from within, veins of light pulsing through black stone. The architecture hurts to follow—towers twist at angles that shouldn't exist, bridges span impossible gaps.
"How is it doing that?" I whisper.
"Doing what?"
"Existing wrong."
"Everything exists wrong here, little mortal. You'll adapt." He leans down, breath hot against my ear. "Or you'll go deliciously mad. Either entertains me."
"Glad my potential insanity fits your social calendar."
"Oh, you'll fit into my calendar in so many ways."
Demons fill the courtyard. Tall ones with marble skin and elaborate horns. Smaller ones skittering at the edges. They all stop when they see us. When they see me. Their eyes—all black with different colored threads running through—track my movement with predatory interest. Then they bow. Perfect synchronization. Rehearsed terror.
"Your Majesty." The closest one speaks without raising her head. "Welcome home."
Majesty.Your Majesty. The words scramble in my brain.
"The mortal?" The demon's eyes flick to me, still bowed but somehow watching. "Shall we prepare the dungeons?"
"She stays with me."
A ripple runs through the crowd. Shock. Scandal.
"With you, Majesty?"
"Problem?"
"No, Your Majesty. Never."
The demon—my demon—walks through them without further acknowledgment. I stumble after him, the absence in my chest growing heavier with each step.
The entrance hall steals my breath. Columns of black stone twist toward a ceiling lost in shadow. Soul-stones embedded in the walls pulse with soft light. Thousands. Each one a bargain, a life traded for something temporary. My hand goes to my chest. Is that what I look like now? A pretty stone in his collection?
"I don't understand." My voice echoes wrong. "Why did they call you—"
"Did you think I was some lesser demon answering desperate summons for fun?" He turns, and wicked amusement dances across his face. "Though I suppose I should be flattered. Most mortals piss themselves when they realize. You're taking it remarkably well."
"Who are you?"
"I'm the King of this realm, little mortal. Every demon you've ever heard stories about answers to me. Every nightmare that crawls through your world's dreams bows at my feet." He steps closer, backing me against a column. "And you just sold yourself to me for a boy who brings you weeds."
The glittering ground seems to drop away. The air thins, and a high-pitched ringing starts in my ears.The Demon King.Notademon king.TheDemon King. The one from every story, every warning, every prayer for protection.
"Oh." The word is a puff of air. "Oh, fuck."
He laughs, genuine delight. "There it is. Though I prefer 'Your Majesty' if we're being formal."
My legs give out. He catches me, one arm around my waist, claws careful against my ribs. He's solid and warm and smells like dangerous decisions. His chest against my back is firm, and I can feel the controlled strength in how easily he holds my weight.
"I can't—I didn't know—"
"Would it have mattered?"
I think about Chad bleeding out in my arms. The way his eyes went glassy. "No."
"Then stop whimpering. It's tedious."
