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"At least you leave something behind," I murmur to the corpse, popping out one eye as proof of completion. "Something besides a reputation and disappointed expectations."
I pocket the trophy and straighten, sighing. Another job done, another journey back to Ikoth where my mother will no doubt have arranged yet another "coincidental" meeting with some high-ranking demon female, expecting me to fall into line.
As I navigate back through Ti'lith's winding streets, I wonder what it would be like to have something—someone—to return to that was chosen by me, not dictated by bloodlines and expectations.
The towering black spires of Ti'lith's royal district loom ahead as I navigate through progressively wealthier neighborhoods. The palace itself—a monstrous construction of obsidian towers and jagged archways—looks like it grew rather than was built, reflecting the strange, organic architecture of Galmoleth.
My footsteps echo against the glassy stone path. Guards at the outer gates straighten when they see me approach, recognition dawning in their eyes. My reputation precedes me, as it does everywhere. The Vaelrix name carries weight, but my own accomplishments have eclipsed even my family's notorious bloodline.
"Here to see the Hooded King," I announce, not bothering with formalities.
The guards exchange glances but don't challenge me. One nods and gestures for me to follow. Smart move.
"His Majesty is expecting you," the guard mutters, leading me through a series of vaulted corridors.
Of course he is. Asmodeus might be new to ruling Galmoleth, but he's no fool. He knows when a bounty hunter of my caliber enters his territory and when one is preparing to leave.
The throne room doors—massive panels carved with scenes of demon conquest—swing open soundlessly. Inside, the cavernous space gleams with polished black stone and strategically placed braziers that cast dancing shadows across the walls.
And there sits Asmodeus, the Hooded King, lounging on his throne with the casual authority of someone born to rule. Even though many don't believe him to be a real King, I respected his rule here when I came and met with him before hunting on his lands. His features are partially obscured by the hood he rarely removes, but I can see enough to note his thoughtful expression.
"Vaelrix," he greets, voice carrying easily across the chamber. "Welcome back. Successful hunt, I presume?"
I approach and incline my head—not a bow, but acknowledgment. My mother would have a conniption fit if she saw such casual disrespect to royalty, but Asmodeus and I have an understanding.
"Always," I reply, patting my pouch. "Nev'rozik won't be stealing from anyone again."
Asmodeus leans forward, his eyes—the only part of his face fully visible beneath his hood—gleaming with interest. "I heard it was quite the sum he took."
"Seven hundred nodals from Vag'thimon's personal vault. Amateur move."
"Indeed." He drums his fingers against the arm of his throne. "I take it you're here to inform me you're leaving Galmoleth?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Your intelligence network is efficient."
"I make it my business to know the movements of certain individuals." A slight smile. "Especially those who could either be valuable allies or formidable enemies."
"And which am I?"
"That remains to be seen." He stands, descending the dais with fluid grace. "Before you go, I'm hosting a gathering tonight. You should attend."
I bite back a groan. A social event. Like I don't get enough of those with my mother trying to orchestrate some "chance" meeting with a potential breeding partner.
"I appreciate the invitation, but I have preparations to make?—"
"It wasn't an invitation." Asmodeus's tone remains pleasant, but there's steel beneath it. "Consider it a request from your king."
My jaw tightens. "You're not my king. I'm Ikothan."
"But currently on my territory." He moves closer, and I catch a glimpse of his mate lingering in a doorway behind the throne, watching our interaction with curious eyes. "Besides, you might find it... enlightening. My mate has invited several interesting humans."
"I have no interest in humans."
Asmodeus laughs—a rich, genuine sound. "Neither did I, once. Yet here we are." He gestures to his mate, who gives a small wave. "One evening, Vaelrix. Surely the great bounty hunter can survive a few hours of conversation and Amerinth."
I weigh my options. Refusing Asmodeus outright would be unwise, especially when I'll need to return to Galmoleth for future jobs. And the mention of Amerinth—that potent, sweet liquor that burns like fire—does make the prospect marginally more tolerable.
"Fine," I concede, the word tasting bitter. "One appearance. Brief."