When he returned to the throne room, Uthyr awaited him.
—That could have gone better.— With his acute senses, the dragon would’ve heard everything. He probably knew as much of the castle’s intrigues as Sian did. —You believe she’s working for N?x?—
“Yes, wittingly or not.” Pacing in front of his marble throne, he said, “My mate satisfies me not at all! She is senseless.” Kari had been one of the most intelligent beings he’d ever known. He’d expected the same of her in this life.
What a disappointment.
—Or she is bold. Demon, your mind is suffering from your change, and your thoughts are in chaos. If you mistreat her, she will come to hate you. Have you not even considered a fresh start with her? Forgiveness?—
“I’ll forgive my mate as soon as you shift back to a man.” Why the dragon refused to return to his humanoid form baffled Sian.
—It will not and cannot happen.—
“Precisely. I want revenge only. She deserves nothing more.”
—Immortals so love their vengeance.— Uthyr sighed, a flame gusting from his lips, scorching another wall. —But not often at the expense of matehood.—
Sian gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t you understand, dragon? Matehood is an impossibility.” He had once asked Rune, his closest friend, what having a mate was like. Rune had answered, “I get more happiness in one second of loving Josie than I did in seven thousand years of life without her.”
Sian had accepted he would never experience such satisfaction. At times he imagined that some other trickster demon had stolen into his body to replace Sian’s heart with a cold lava rock. What had once been fiery and alive was now crumbling and black.
“Even if I didn’t despise my female—even if she isn’t N?x’s bait for my downfall at best and a spy at worst—do you really believe a fey that exquisite could accept me in this form?” When he’d signaled his interest, she’d sneered, You’ve got to be kidding. “Or survive in hell? Her kind don’t belong in Pandemonia.” The ash had made her cough after mere minutes here. “And how do you predict she’ll feel about me when I wage war on the fey?”
Sian had hungered for vengeance against Sylvan for ages, but Orion had asked him to wait till this Accession. Finally, that time had come. “I might as well get some sport out of my mate.” He’d made sure she could never finish spinning. Yes, he loved trickery and games, but in the end the jest would always be on him—he would never know a mate’s bond.
He traced to the terrace railing to survey his legions.
Uthyr joined him. Though each of the great dragon’s steps shook the terrace, he could move with a catlike grace when he wanted to, a boon whenever he used his other talent: chameleon cloaking to the point of invisibility. —I can give you counsel, friend, but I need to know more about your past. What made you hate her?—
Sian didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not yet.
—Why would you even have met her so long ago? Fey and demons didn’t run in the same circles.—
Back then, the fey had still been known as elves, and Sian’s twin, Goürlav, had just inherited the crown of Pandemonia. “An explorer discovered a portal between our kingdoms, but wariness rose on both sides, the species having nothing in common. So the king of Sylvan agreed to foster me in his realm for a season.”
A spell had enabled Sian to speak Elvish. For security reasons, it had also bound his abilities to trace and mind-read.
No spell in existence could have helped Sian understand the elves’ stifled emotions, calculating ways, and superior airs. Many considered the demons little better than beasts.
Yet Goürlav had ordered him to go, wielding his power over his twin for the first time, infuriating Sian. . . .
_______
“Why can we not simply attack these uncanny newcomers?”
“Your thoughts are forever turned to conflict.” Goürlav exhaled. “We can always go to war with them. Yet a chance for peace is fleeting. I should at least try for it before the hell-change robs me of reason.” He clamped Sian’s shoulder. “If this works, if you help me make this work, we could all know prosperity as never before. Our realms need each other’s resources; with trade, we could better the lives of all elven-and demonkind. . . .”
_______
Sian had resisted right up until he’d scented Kari on the other side.
Uthyr said, —At least tell me, demon: Why make her spin?—
“Because she can never complete her task, and it will please me to watch her fail.”
The dragon winced, his scales rippling. —Sometimes you forget there’s a difference between trickery and cruelty.—
“That female taught me much about cruelty.” She’d used his feelings for her to manipulate him, digging for demon weaknesses without a qualm—because she’d seen him as a lesser being. Her bigoted parents had taught her that all beings were vastly inferior to the elves.
Sian recalled when Kari had asked if demons formed bond pairs. He’d figured she would need to know all of the details about demon matehood—graphic though they were. . . .
_______
“A male can sense a female is his. Yet the only way to be absolutely certain is through intercourse.” Pulling on his collar, he said, “A demon cannot spill seed for the first time with any but his fated female. Some males bed many with this hope. It’s called attempting.”
“How convenient,” she sniffed. “And primitive.”
Though the elves formed bond pairs, no physical limitations constrained them; they could marry where they pleased. With so much control over their emotions, they could repress any instinctive drives.
He’d found them to be like unfeeling shells. But Kari was different.
She asked, “And if attempting is successful, do demons wed?”
“Only royals. But marriage is just a formality. If a male finds his mate, he will mark her neck. That is a lifelong pledge.”
“Mark?” Realization flashed in her dual-colored eyes. “A demon would . . . bite a female?” She was appalled. “Like those disgusting vampires? How barbaric!”
“Have you ever even spoken to a vampire, Kari?”
She blinked in confusion. “Talk to a vampire? Why would I bother?”
_______
He’d told himself that he would introduce her to other species, expanding her views—that once she was separated from her parents, she could shed their narrow-mindedness. He hadn’t realized how deeply ingrained her beliefs had been.
Kari’s reincarnation was fey once more, so he had little doubt she’d been raised the same way.
And her godsdamned eyes matched.
All the same flaws—yet none of the charms.