Half-Demon's Fortune

by Lina J. Potter

  Michelle.

  Even now, Abigail grit her teeth as she remembered her rival.

  What a snake... The former queen hated the princess so much that even Martha would give her a respectful whistle.

  She was young, beautiful, smart, and charismatic. She had the gift of fire, power, money, and universal adoration. Was it fair that Abigail herself had to scratch and claw out her niche in the world while somebody else had everything given to them on a silver platter by the mere fact of their birth?

  And Michelle enjoyed all of that, too. She didn’t know anything about cold, hunger, or hardships. She never had to sew a ribbon to a dress a dozen times, never had to make a loaf of bread last several days because there was no other food, crying helpless tears, never had to make insoles out of old carpet because there was no money to buy new ones, as her father had once again gambled or whored everything away...

  The thing that humiliated Abigail the most, however, was Michelle’s attitude. The princess accepted her as her own sister! She was happy that her brother had finally married. For the rest of her life, Abigail remembered her kiss on the cheek and her merry chirping, “I’m so glad that Rudie has made his choice! He’s been looking for such a long time, and at last, he found me such a nice sister! I hope we’ll become the best of friends!”

  It was right at that moment when Abigail swore to herself to destroy the princess. I will break her; I will grind her to dust so that no memory of her remains in this world. Bitch!

  She studied the court, she made plans and arrangements, and moved all of her relatives to the palace, surrounding Rudolph with people who constantly reassured him of his righteousness and infallibility, sang his praises, kowtowed to him, instilling the sense of grandeur... All of that made him easier to manipulate.

  In the meantime, she bore Rudolph children and secured her court standing. Only fools think that women are small fish. The truth is, each man had a wife, a sister, or a mother...a woman who could control him. And while men played their games, women ruled.

  Little by little, Abigail ingrained herself into the court intrigues, gaining more and more power. But then, King Alexander had decided to marry his daughter off and Abigail knew that it was time to strike. Afterward, the status of the Duchess of Miellen would make Michelle unreachable. Miellen was a huge dukedom, almost a kingdom in itself: small, rather independent, well-fortified. Even kings held it in high regard. Getting to Michelle there would be impossible.

  And thus, Abigail made her move.

  Alas, her plan claimed the lives of her own children. She never let her father and brother hear the end of it, of course. How could they do that? No plan, no check... She would have never screwed up in such a major way! She would have let her children out...

  Still, it wasn’t all bad. Her loss was sweetened by her triumph. Michelle was captured, put in chains, and tortured. Abigail relished each bit of news from the prison, licking it from her fingers, like rose petal jam. Before long, her hated sister-in-law would be burned at the stake as a witch and a murderer, to be remembered as such for ages. Just a little bit more...

  She didn’t get enough time.

  How did the king learn about everything? It was only later when Abigail heard the name: Tom Horn. She was unable to find the old servant, however; he had disappeared without a trace. Apparently, someone appreciated his help.

  Everything changed in an instant. Michelle was released from prison. It wasn’t the same Michelle, however. If not for her looks, Abigail would have thought that the girl had been replaced with someone else. Where was that sappy lover of gushy romance novels, a dreamer and a trickster, a chatterbox and a snickerpuss?

  And her eyes... Michelle had never looked at people like that before. It was as if her father, the king, was staring right through her pupils, hard and cold. It was finally clear who his real child was and who was a gilded knightling.

  Michelle took some rabble under her wing, making it impossible to get close to her. As for Abigail...

  The woman shivered, and not because the night was cold. She still couldn’t forget the dead rats. Sometimes, she woke up in the middle of the night, a scream of terror on her lips.

  Necromancers! Minions of the Dark Tempter! Hagseed! Abominations! She would have burned them all, but they wouldn’t let her.

  Abigail hated to think about the events in the capital. She got clobbered very badly that time. She still remembered the eyes of the king...

  You’ve gotten yours, bitch. I don’t recommend you celebrate, though. I could have you killed just the next day, you know. But that idiot would replace you soon enough and she might be even worse than you. I’m old, and I’m weak, and so, you’ll remain alive. But one day, you’ll regret this.

  Nothing more was said, yet she triumphed. Michelle was disgraced and destroyed, Rudolph was to become the king, and she, the queen. Her children would be heirs to the throne. What else could she want?

  Power. Splendor. Fame. Money. Balls. Dresses. And she had all of that, while Michelle all but disappeared, having moved to a backwoods county where she bore a son.

  That was the only thing plaguing Abigail’s life at that point.

  That said, what was the point of bearing a bastard of some farmer or bandit—and who else would want a possible witch? Ah, whatever! The child was gravely ill, lived in a place with no life mages—what did he matter? He would soon die anyway!

  And Abigail got swept up in a whirlwind of amusements. Life was in full swing for almost twenty years, but then...

  When Abigail saw that boy on the doorstep of the throne room, her heart skipped a beat and then started beating thrice as fast, as she thought that he was Michelle, who had dressed as a man and come back, almost twenty years later.

  He had her slender body, her small frame, her long white hair, her huge blue eyes. But his face… His thin lips, shut tight, his aquiline nose, the shape of his eyes, his arrogant expression... Who was the father of Michelle’s baby? She had never inquired about that back in the day, and then, it was too late to seek answers. Alexander kept his silence, and she couldn’t really ask Michelle herself...

  Who could it be?

  Alexander bowed, smiled, and was exceedingly polite, while Abigail already realized: a fearsome enemy had just invaded her home. It was hate at first sight.

  But what could she do? Kill him? All attempts failed. Bait him with a woman? Possible...she even succeeded once. Well, she thought so.

  But what next? It was as if Alex was made of snow and steel. He congratulated that whore—whatshername, Marlie? Farlie?—on her marriage and kept on as if nothing had happened.

  He also attracted people. They liked him and were pulled toward his orbit. He could be very charming...and also quick and merciless. He attacked from every direction, and for a moment, Abigail got confused...and she lost.

  She was imprisoned in a convent, but even there, she didn’t surrender. She found a way out. She found allies, she found...

  “Aiiiiiiii!”

  A rat! The filthy thing crept out from under the bed, climbed the blanket and stared at the queen, all cheeky and petulant, as if asking her, So, what have you found here?

  Abigail waited for noise from the staircase, she knew that her people would come to get rid of the damnable creature...and she did hear some steps.

  They were light, quick, and full of swagger.

  Then the door swung open.

  “Auntie! What a lovely surprise!”

  Oh, that mocking voice! Abigail shuddered and flattened herself against the wall.

  “Alex...”

  “I’m so happy you remember me! So, how about we have a brief talk?”

  ***

  What does a cornered rat look like? I think it’s a really cute-looking beastie. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say that about Abigail. Upon seeing me, her face became distorted with a mixture of hate, anger, fury, and powerlessness. I really wanted to grab something heavy and start beating her, full-swing until she was dead.
<
br />   Still, I had to ask her one question. The rest I could learn from the others, but that one...

  “Why?”

  “What?”

  “Auntie, why did you do all of that? Why did you frame my mother, why did you bully her? She treated you like a sister, didn’t she?”

  Finally, Abigail’s true face was revealed. Or was it a pig’s snout? If the people saw her, they would have never believed that that wretched thing was their rightful queen. They would have stoned her to death!

  Her chiseled (despite her age) features twisted, her lips opened, revealing bare fangs, her fingers crooked like claws.

  “Too bad your mother didn’t die at birth! Bitch! Cow!”

  I got the gist of it. Abigail simply hated my mother...for everything at once. No need for details.

  I snapped my fingers. A shadow on the wall grew and became denser and, in a minute, the King of Rats stepped into the room.

  “She’s yours by the power of a king.”

  It was only then that Abigail started to shriek; a mad wild howl escaped her mouth while the shadow continued to grow, getting bigger and pulling toward her, covering her fully and dissipating into a swarm of hundreds of rats who promptly started their meal.

  I felt the exact moment when her soul left her body, and then, the King of Rats caught it and consumed it right after her flesh.

  Let him. After that, Abigail would never be reborn in another body, but I didn’t care. I turned around and left the room.

  The inn was silent. Everybody was sleeping—thanks to my spell—and dreaming of rats…lots and lots of rats. Ak-kvir gave me a knowing look.

  “Time to go, yes?”

  I jumped on his back.

  “Yes. Let’s go home.”

  ***

  Peace, quiet, comfort; I wondered if I would ever get them—definitely not in the capital, at least. As soon as I arrived, I was showered with problems.

  At least I hadn’t been gone long enough for bandits to appear on the high roads. The rest, however...

  I had to hastily call off four new taxes, deal with a border dispute, and sort out rewards and punishments. A couple of times, Dariola tried breaking into my room, but I told her to get lost in no uncertain terms—and loud enough for the entire palace to hear.

  I had better things to do than talk to that idiot and that’s what she was. After all, if she were smarter, she would have never betrayed me in the first place.

  She only managed to get to me nine days later, as I was spending my days and nights either in the study or in the dungeon.

  “Alex, we need to talk!”

  “Yes?”

  Dariola didn’t beat around the bush.

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “You’ll bear me a couple of kids and I’ll send you to a convent for adultery.”

  I wasn’t hiding my plans either—no need for that, plus I was exhausted, never getting more than two hours of sleep.

  “There was no adultery.”

  “You only haven’t slept with Henry because your brother told him not to,” I corrected her. “But you tried.”

  Dariola grew pale.

  “My brother? What do you mean?”

  “They arranged that minstrel for you. If Darrie wants a bird, she’ll have that bird. If she wants a doll, she’ll have the doll. If she wants a lover, she’ll have him, just as long as she keeps being a good girl and bears an heir of the right sex.”

  Dariola grew even paler, but her royal training got the upper hand.

  “My brother couldn’t have told you that.”

  “He didn’t, we had other subjects to discuss. That’s what your lover told me.”

  “Henry? He’s—”

  “He’s dead.”

  The woman’s hand flew up to her throat. At that moment, with her bulging eyes and open mouth, she was the spitting image of a fish washed ashore.

  “You...you...”

  Well, not quite me, it was Martha’s work, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

  “He’s dead. That’s all.”

  “You scum!”

  “Quite right, my dear. And I suggest you not anger me, because this scum has sharp teeth. If you want to live, do as I say.”

  Without a word, Dariola turned around and slammed the door. Serves her right.

  Still, a meeting with my wife threw me off a little bit. I sighed and looked through the window.

  Innis, my girl... How are you? I miss you so much...you’re a real miracle and it pains me so much that we’ll never see each other again. Even when I’m able to cast the crown aside, you’ll already have a husband and children. I won’t ruin your life like hate and revenge have ruined mine.

  I love you so much...

  ***

  The King of Rats left precisely thirteen days later. He was sated, pleased, and drunk on blood.

  Over that time, almost all the temples in Radenor and Riolon were emptied with only, the Bright Saint willing, five hundred people remaining of all the Church’s stable. Rats had eaten servitors and retainers, thralls and the Confidant himself, priests and templars. They cared not about status, and there was no protection from them.

  What would you do, really? You could banish a demon with an amulet and a prayer, but a pack of rats? Well, you could still pray, of course...before your death.

  The King of Rats could be released in any place, so I picked the dungeon of my castle. We parted on almost friendly terms.

  Five days later, I sent ambassadors to Riolon. I chose Rene Morinar. Let him learn.

  He was to declare to Riolonian noblemen that, with the king dead, the prince missing in action, and the princess married to me and expecting my child, I...no, I wasn’t annexing Riolon to Radenor, I was simply taking guardianship over the throne. A protectorate, to be terminated upon Darius’ return. After all, I couldn’t allow the power to be usurped; so if a second cousin twice removed or another distant relative started salivating at the thought of sitting on the throne, it was high time for them to wipe their mouths with a napkin—and hide as best they could, or I would bury them six feet under.

  No-no, Radenor and Riolon aren’t being merged into one kingdom! As for me changing some laws...I will lower some levies as well, aren’t we friends now? I’ll also take care of the army, the funding won’t stop...

  It was a tremendously difficult task and nobody could do it but Rene. Well, maybe myself, but going to Riolon now and abandoning Alethar to its fate was out of the question. Even if Innis was there...

  Countess Andago stubbornly refused to leave my dreams, my thoughts, and my feelings. All the time, I could see her before my eyes—happy or sad, in a hunting outfit or an evening gown...and sometimes, without a gown at all. In my dreams, I undressed her, fondling her naked body and feeling like a green youth who had never seen a woman before.

  What an idiot. When I have the time, I will have to visit my favorite brothel; Mistress Eliza will help me find a black-haired beauty... Crap!

  ***

  As likely as not, it was my first night spent inside my own bedroom in about a month. At last, I could catch up on sleep and get some real rest. Really, an entire month of catnaps! Soon, my eyes would become red in both of my forms. Generally, demons were more resilient than humans, but not by that much.

  A dog’s life? A dog would have long perished if it lived like me. We had just cleaned up the first wave of the mess: dealt with the main culprits, executed the traitors, and now were unhurriedly accepting apologies from the second wave—material apologies, too, no less than a good piece of land from each one.

  We also rewarded those who had remained loyal to me. Judging by the jealous looks of the courtly rabble, next time, they would think long and hard about whether or not they wanted to yield to the invaders. Although...there was hardly anyone left to invade.

  The Chartreuses? Abigail was dead. As for the rest, they would probably kick up some dust, but not a real rebellion. I had fed a dozen Chartreuses to the Kee
per on the sly so they would keep quiet until the next generation grew up, which gave me at least ten years of peace. In those years, they wouldn’t even take a piss without my express permission; I would school them well.

  And if I didn’t... Well, the Keeper needed lots of food and it preferred a diverse diet. Over the last few generations, it had to eat only courtiers—that was a sure way to get an ulcer.

  I spent almost an hour taking a hot bath, then climbed out, and headed to the bedroom, stark naked. And there...

  “Alex, we need to talk!”

  Oh, hell. Who let Dariola inside?

  After pausing for two seconds, I emerged from the room, still without any clothes on, and yelled at the guards.

  “I’ll fire your asses! Get ready for border patrol duty, slobs!”

  As they grew pale, I shut the door and stared at my wife. It had been a while.

  Should I have rested in the dungeons? At least she would have never shown up there. But food...nobody would set up such a table for me there, and the aroma was truly delicious, making my stomach spasm in anticipation. I could smell the crayfish cream soup even from here. And so, I wrapped myself in a long bathrobe and went to the table.

  “Alex!”

  Dariola unfroze, having realized that I wasn’t going to chase her away.

  I flopped down behind the table and raised the lid of the first dish. Mmm...

  “You aren’t listening to me!”

  “I’m eating.”

  Dariola hissed in anger but was too scared for a biting remark. About right, too.

  “I know about your plans.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re going to subjugate Riolon.”

  “I’m going to do what your father and brother planned on doing. See, it’s karma. They say it’s a bitch.”

  “You need me for that, and my children.”

  “Only your children.”

  “Without me, your claims are illegitimate.”