Page 26 of Bargain with the Demon King

Azzaron

Lord Vex drums his claws against obsidian—tap, tap, tap—the sound designed to irritate.

His shadow peels away from his body, moving independently, betraying the agitation his face won't show.

Lady Morinth's pets kneel at her feet, trembling.

The temperature drops as Raziel stands, frost spreading from where his palms touch the table.

"The humans grow bold." Raziel's voice grinds against itself—old bloodline demons speak in layers, primary voice over ancient undertone. Silver marks pulse along his forearms. "Three incidents this week. Demons harassed, mocked, attacked."

"A child threw mud at Gorthak." Lord Kaine's breath fogs despite the chamber's warmth. "Hardly worth retaliation."

"The principle matters." Raziel's eyes burn amber. "Allow disrespect without consequence, chaos follows."

I watch Adraya from the corner of my eye.

She sits beside my throne, close enough that her mortal warmth contrasts with cold stone.

Lavender soap. Sun-touched skin. Both foreign in my realm.

Her pen moves across parchment, but her jaw tightens with each lord's pronouncement.

Once. Twice. Three times. She counts—I know because I count with her.

"The humans are under His Majesty's protection," Lady Morinth says, her voice crystallizing air into ice shards that fall silently. Where her fingers touch her pet's hair, skin burns and heals in endless cycle. "That protection extends to their stupidity."

"Then punish only the demons who retaliated," Lord Vex suggests. His shadow splits—one stays with him, one circles the table, one reaches toward mine before remembering itself. "Show that attacking protected humans carries consequences."

"Punish demons for defending themselves?" Raziel's undertone harmonizes wrong, a vibration that makes the soul-marks on my arms burn cold. "Dangerous precedent."

"The precedent exists. The King's law is absolute."

"Even when they provoke—"

"Even then."

The argument circles. Vex's shadow fragments further—five pieces now, each considering different angles. Morinth's pets have gone rigid, that particular stillness before she does something creative. Raziel's marks pulse faster.

Adraya's jaw clenches again. Fourth time. Fifth. The parchment tears under her pen.

"Perhaps we should eliminate the settlements entirely," Vex says. All five shadows nod agreement. "Remove the temptation."

"And lose the agricultural output?" Morinth laughs. The sound becomes physical—ice crystals that shatter against stone. "Your estate needs human grain."

"Better than constant conflict—"

"You're all idiots."

The words don't just land, they cancel the air. The echoes of their arguments die, leaving a vacuum. Every demon turns. Vex's shadows snap back to him as if yanked by a leash. Raziel's marks flare a defensive silver-white.

"The mortal speaks." Raziel's undertone cuts out, leaving just the primary voice. "Without permission. In the King's own—"

"The humans provoked them." Adraya cuts through his words. "Not with violence—that's the excuse. With mockery. Testing boundaries because they think the King's protection makes them untouchable."

"How dare—"

"And the demons retaliated because their pride got scratched. Both sides are wrong. Punish the humans for provocation, punish the demons for excess. Make it public. Make them watch each other bleed. Otherwise someone dies and can't be brought back."

Silence. The kind before violence. Every demon's breathing syncs—inhale, hold, exhale. The marks on exposed skin pulse together.

Adraya meets my gaze. Not defiant. Not afraid. Just present. She counts their shocked faces—six gasps, four shadow-retreats, two demons drawing blood from their own palms. She finds patterns in their distress.

I should silence her. Should protect the hierarchy.

"The mortal's suggestion has merit."

Raziel's mouth opens, closes, opens again. "Your Majesty—"

"Both sides face punishment." My shadow expands, swallowing theirs. "Humans for provocation. Demons for lack of restraint. Equal consequences."

"You're taking her counsel?" Vex's shadow pulls tight against his body. "A mortal's opinion?"

"I'm taking logic regardless of source." The obsidian cracks under my hand. "Unless you have better?"

No one does. The shift is visible—demons lean toward or away from Adraya, recalculating her position.

"Three lashes each. Public. Both sides watch."

"Three lashes could kill a human," Morinth observes.

"Then they'll be careful." I stand. "Dismissed."

They flee. Vex's shadow splits and reforms repeatedly. Raziel leaves drops of black blood. Morinth's frozen laugh shatters against the floor. Whispers start before the door closes.

Adraya gathers her notes. I catch her counting Raziel's blood drops. Fourteen. Her fingers tap the pattern against her thigh.

"Foolish," I tell her once we're alone.

"Everything I do is foolish." She looks up. "Your Lord Vex's shadow split into five parts. Panic or planning?"

"Both."

"Fascinating. Thoughts fracturing in real-time." She stands, smoothing her dress. The motion draws my attention to her hips. "They would have circled until someone suggested genocide."

"Now you're a threat instead of decoration."

"Good. Threats are harder to ignore." She studies me. "Your eyes changed seventeen times during that exchange. Gold to brighter gold, twice almost white. Rage?"

"You counted my reactions?"

"I count everything. Gives my brain something to do."

The admission hangs between us. She's cataloging me the way she catalogs everything else.

"They'll test you now."

"Let them. At least demons threaten from the front."

If they knew she was free, that her soul exists as dust on my dinner plate, they'd riot. But watching her move toward the door, I don't regret it.

Evening. I bring my plate to her chamber. She looks up from a demon history text.

"Your lords probably think you've gone soft."

"Let them think." I sit across from her, noting the six inches between our feet under the table. Five inches when she shifts.

"Things needed changing. Your political ecosystem was stagnating.

" She steals meat from my plate. No one has taken food from my plate in five thousand years.

The sheer, unthinking possessiveness of the act is more potent than any practiced seduction.

"Watching Raziel's face when you agreed with me was worth any risk. His eyes went completely purple."

"Purple indicates confusion."

"I caused a demon lord confusion." A small smile. Real. "Almost worth everything else."

"The council will remember today."

"Good." She takes my wine without asking, drinks from my goblet. "Did you know demon blood changes color based on emotional state?"

"How do you know that?"

"I catalog everything. Vex bleeds purple-black when shocked. Raziel's goes true black when angry." She meets my eyes. "Yours has gold mixed in sometimes. What emotion is that?"

"Curiosity."

"Your shadow absorbed all the others when you agreed with me. Conscious?"

"Sometimes instinct."

"Like your beast form?" The question carries weight. "Pure response?"

"To specific stimuli."

She shivers. My beast stirs.

"Lord Vex has three sons. Half-human. Hidden. He votes against human rights while paying for their education."

"Servant gossip?"

"They think I don't understand demon tongue. Your grammar has seven tenses for types of possession." She turns a page. "He's vulnerable."

"You're suggesting blackmail?"

"I'm observing. What you do with it is your business." Another piece of stolen meat, her fingers brushing mine deliberately.

"Quite the strategist."

"I notice patterns. Broken people see cracks because we're made of them." She closes the book. "Your council's fractured. You could reshape everything."

"Why would I?"

"Because it's boring. Same arguments for seventeen thousand years. Aren't you tired?"

The question lands true. I am tired.

"Change requires catalyst."

"You have one. Reading your histories and cataloging your tells." She stands, stretches. The dress pulls tight across her breasts. My claws extend. "Use me. Let me disrupt things."

"You know the risk."

"Death? I'm already hollow." She moves to the bathroom. "Thank you for not crushing me when I called them idiotic."

"They are idiotic."

"Your eyes just went gold-black again. Not rage."

She disappears before I can respond. She's been studying me as carefully as I watch her.

In my chambers, I hear her through the wall. Pages turning. Then her voice: "Forty-three different eye changes today. Wonder what forty-four looks like."

She knows I'm listening. Talking to me without talking to me. My beast responds with interest.

Tomorrow she'll sit beside my throne again. Everything's different. She knows she affects me.

The soul-mark spreads across my chest. By the time it reaches my heart, I'll belong to her completely.

Through the wall: "Forty-four."

She's counting me. Cataloging me. Studying me.

The collector is being assessed by his finest acquisition, and I find I have no desire to stop her valuation.