Page 39 of Storm of Shadows

“Be grateful I’m here at all. I won’t deny I didn’t consider leaving you here to rot in this temple.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You need me.”

“I could summon another Void Prince. I have another six to choose from.”

“They wouldn’t be even half as charming as me.”

“‘Charming’ is one word for it. I bet other Void Princes aren’t as insufferable as you.”

“I would say I am the most reasonable of my brethren. Besides, you cannot summon another Void Prince.”

“Why not?”

“Your soul belongs to me and me alone.”

“I could make another deal and overwrite this one.”

“You cannot.”

I frown. That wasn’t something I read in Nolderan’s Vaults, where tomes containing forbidden magic are kept, but I didn’t spend long researching demonology before deciding to summon a Void Prince. “What about if I made a deal with the Void King instead? Surely that would take precedence over ours?”

At this, Natharius finally turns to face me. His blood-red eyes meet mine. It’s only been a few days since I last saw the Void Prince—and I was unconscious for most of them—but I already managed to forget how unsettling his crimson eyes are.

“You would not.”

“I wouldn’t?”

He lifts his pointed chin. “I should clarify what I meant: You would not be able to. The Lord of the Abyss would have no interest in a puny little mage like you. He is only interested in making deals with those whose souls are abundant with power, those who would make demons strong enough to rule his seven domains.”

“Like yourself.”

His lip curls. “Indeed, like myself.”

I decide to leave our argument at that. It isn’t as if I have any interest in summoning the Void King. From recent experience, Void Princes are infuriating enough. I don’t want imagine what their king would be like. Besides, we have much more pressing matters to contend with right now. Such as the matter of how to break this Void Prince from his bindings of light magic.

“You can save your bragging for later,” I say. “Unless you actually want to stay here and rot.”

“No,” he growls. “I do not.”

“Then we need to hurry and find a way to get you out of that cell. I don’t know whether the priestesses have placed wards over the dungeons—”

“They have placed many here.”

“Fantastic. Then they could already be alerted to my presence and be racing down here as we speak.”

“They could.”

“And yet you don’t sound concerned.”

“If you fail and the priestesses execute you, then I shall be freed from this wretched world and will enjoy torturing your soul in the Abyss to repay you for the humiliation you have caused me to endure at the hands of these zealous fools. And I would say the odds are stacked in my favor.”

“Or they could capture me and leave me to rot in the cell beside you. The average lifespan for a mage is approximately three hundred years, so you would get to enjoy up to three centuries of my company.”

“I can’t think of anything worse,” he says with a grimace. “Stop talking and hurry up.”

Of course, I have no wish to endure potentially three centuries in the cell beside this loathsome demon, so I don’t argue over the fact thatIam the one who issues orders and not him.

“How do I get this open?” I ask, prodding the lock on his cell door.

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