“Y-yes...you introduced us, actually.”
Just like the entire noble swarm at the court. Yet I had no recollection of any mad love there. I had to know...
“So right after I left, Dion started to chase after you...”
“He declared his love almost right away, buried me in sweets and flowers...”
Hmm.
“And did he visit you often?”
“Almost every day, and I realized I couldn’t live without him.”
That was almost enough. Gently, I took Carlie’s hand. My second palm was still clenched into a fist behind my back.
“May I?”
“Alex!”
“I won’t hurt you, I swear.”
“B-but...”
I kissed her skin, staring in her eyes carefully. A love potion?
Quite possibly.
Still, you would need a skilled witch for that. A very skilled witch, just like the one that had made me a man.
What were the symptoms? Rene had taught me a lot, including the two main indications. Blood of a charmed person tasted a bit like honey. Were my senses playing tricks on me, or was Carlie’s skin a bit sweet as well?
I didn’t know. My heart was beating like a drum. That talk cost me more than Ruthina’s murder.
The second symptom was lack of red veins in her eyes. Of course, that could mean good health. You never know...
“Go in peace, Carlie.”
“Alex, so you’ll just let me go?”
“What else can I do?”
I could do a lot, and Carlie knew that. Steal her away, kill her husband, blackmail them; I could do all of that and more. Yet I didn’t see any point in that anymore. Carlie wasn’t mine. She was someone else’s.
Lovers shouldn’t think that? I should have forgiven the poor girl, explained to her about the love potion, and fixed everything? Maybe. But I couldn’t.
You see, there’s one more thing about love potions. You can brew a whole cauldron, even bathe in it, but if you love someone, truly love, with all your heart and soul, it would never work on you. But if it did...
Had she never loved me? Had it been just a fling? Had she been using me, or playing with me, like a toy? Had she considered me a good match? Possibly. It was too late to tell.
She had never loved me.
That said it all. And I let her go, only to shut the door and curl into a ball next to the window. That was how Tom found me.
“Alex? Alex, get up, fast!”
He barely managed to drag me to bed and gasped in horror.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“What happened?”
And only when Tom, swearing like a sailor, started to pour hard moonshine over my hand, did I realize that my hand was covered in blood. I had done it with my own claws, back when I was trying not to transform.
Carlie—a red sun, not mine, not anymore. So much pain...
***
I summoned my father the second time after all that drama with Carlie.
Not just for kicks, mind you. Her husband, the idiot, decided to assassinate me, seeing as she hadn’t been a maiden anymore, which clearly rubbed him the wrong way. So, if he killed me, his honor would be clear—apart from stealing some else’s bride, but that, apparently, didn’t matter.
He sent an assassin after me, ruining my leisure, and tearing my curtains—the latter an unforgivable offense, really. I mean, wouldn’t you be annoyed?
Just imagine lying in your bed, resting, contemplating your private troubles, gazing at the stars...and then someone’s body obscures them and several bolts from a multi-shot crossbow fly toward you. A pretty scary thing; I could have become a hedgehog rather than a half-demon...if they had actually hit me.
My reflexes were too quick, however, and I was much faster than humans. As soon as that shadow stood by the window, I fell to the floor, transformed, and charged at him.
My tail was a very convenient tool for grabbing things. I used it to grab his leg and pull him inside. On the way there, his head hit the window sill, but I didn’t worry too much; if he had managed to execute his plan, I would have been hurt much worse, after all. Unlike him, I was kind and would kill him almost painlessly.
But first, I had to interrogate him. A few slaps, and the idiot regained consciousness—and please don’t tell me that assassins can’t be stupid. A smart assassin would never hunt a half-demon! I smiled, showing him all my teeth, err, fangs. Apparently, it made a good enough impression, seeing as he even soiled himself.
“So who sent you after the prince?”
After a ten-minute talk, I found out that it had been Viscount Latour, Carlie’s new husband. Scumbag. Well, sooner or later I would get him. He’ll cry tears of urine, I swear it. But before that, I had to deal with the assassin, who had seen my true form.
I had two options: either snap his neck and reveal his assassination attempt, or... Why not, really?
Generally, I preferred to stay away from my father. I had no need of him. But at that moment, the situation was different. I was quite depressed. I deftly drew a pentagram, sprinkled a few drops of blood inside, and called to him, all quiet.
“Would you like to pay me a visit, Argadon?”
Not an order, no, an invitation. Come or don’t come, your call. Necromancers rarely did this—only if they wanted to strike a deal. And then, they were afraid of demons, too. However, I wasn’t. I was too upset.
Argadon didn’t take too long arriving. He appeared from a pillar of red lights and made himself comfortable on the floor.
“Hello, Son.”
“And greetings to you, too. Could you transform?”
Argadon shrugged.
“Do I have to? You know, you could have prepared a chair for me, or did you think it would be nice, sitting on the cold floor in human form?”
“I guess not. Here...”
I carefully pushed a chair inside the pentagram, making sure not to damage the lines. Argadon grabbed it and immediately transformed, only without a rose this time. He sat down, tucking one leg under himself.
“So, why did you summon me?”
I shrugged.
“No idea. How about a snack?”
I pulled the twitching assassin up and threw him inside the pentagram.
Argadon nimbly caught the sacrifice, smelled him, grinned, and put him down.
“Later. Did he come for you?”
“You bet.”
“So, whom did you displease?”
I snorted. “A funny expression.”
“Demons can visit all worlds, if not voluntarily, then through summoning.”
“And how often are you summoned?”
“Well, you’ve just summoned me yourself...and why, I wonder?”
“I don’t know.”
Argadon stared at me, contemplating something.
“Are you feeling sad?”
“Very.”
“Was it a woman?”
All I could do was give a brief nod.
“Did you love her?”
I did. I do... It was getting hard to breathe.
“Then take what’s yours. Kill her husband, take the girl back.”
I considered it for a bit. I could, true. Kill him while remaining unsuspected, manipulate Carlie into running back into my arms but I didn’t want to.
“Once broken, it cannot be whole.”
That was Argadon, but I agreed with him. Then he asked, “Do you want to kill her, then?”
I didn’t. I wanted her to be gone from my life and my memories—forever. I didn’t want to think of her at all, neither good nor ill.
“I think she might be charmed.”
“And who would want that?”
“I think there are such people.”
“What for?”
That question hadn’t crossed my mind yet. What for, really?
Argadon smirked.
“You’re such a dummy, son. Still a brat. Think for yourself. If anybody does anything, they
should have a better reason than to get back at you.”
I had never thought about that. The wounds of others never burn you; only your own pain does.
“That’s right. Well, I do know who did it. Nobody could except for Abigail. Rudolph’s a dipstick, and Andre has a long way to go before he can give someone love potions—he’d rather just kill Carlie...”
“What’s the motive?”
“Revenge, I think.”
“And for what?”
I told him everything about Ruthina’s death. Argadon chuckled.
“My blood. Good job, son.”
That made me cringe. Did I act...like a demon?
“Did you feel anything?”
“Nothing. Like I squashed a fly.”
“Really? You’re lying, aren’t you?”
I shrugged.
“I felt cold, empty inside. I didn’t care about anything, moved like a golem... I knew my goal and I didn’t doubt it.”
“And there was no nagging feeling afterward?”
“Just for a while. Really briefly.”
Argadon seemed...content. Why? I will have to ponder that later. Meanwhile, really, why would Abigail want to drive a wedge between me and Carlie?
The first possibility: she had wanted me not to leave any heirs. I mean, I would have married Carlie quite soon. But that didn’t seem like a good enough reason. There were lots of ways to make Carlie infertile. If Abigail had a witch who could brew love potions, then she would have found a way and someone to pour it into Carlie’s drink. The court was a viper’s nest, after all. But after everything that had happened, I wouldn’t want to marry at all.
Why leave Carlie at court, then? To use her against me? Perhaps. All right, I would have to avoid that.
The second possibility was that Abigail had wanted to foist her own girl upon me, manipulating me through her.
As for the third possibility—revenge for Ruthina—I took it off the table straight away. Yes, the bleached asp had probably filled in her mother on her plans concerning me, but if Abigail could prove my guilt, she would have destroyed me anyway, even if she were sure that it had been my handiwork. Could Ruthina have kept something secret from her mother to brag about her triumph later?
Absolutely.
Maybe it really was revenge, but if so, it was a strange one. I didn’t have enough information to make any conclusions.
After hearing my thoughts, Argadon nodded in agreement.
“It sure seems that way. What can I do to harden you, boy? Would you like me to call a couple of succubi?”
I didn’t. Argadon smirked.
“You should have a drink.”
“I can’t. I lose control.”
“Wouldn’t be too bad for you. Can’t you have a talk with anyone else? Why summon me?”
“I can. However, they all know everything. They’ll feel sorry for me.”
“And you wouldn’t want that, would you? Well...” An insidious smile appeared on my father’s face. “Do you want me to teach you something, then? There are a few rituals...like a blood tornado or the black plague. Have you ever heard of them?”
I hadn’t. But a demon... On the other hand, so what if he is? What should I do—sit around and wait, like a fairytale princess in a tower? No dice. And then, it’s not like I was forced to ever use them.
“Or do you want something even better? As a half-demon, you can walk between the worlds, just like me.”
Now that piqued my interest.
Argadon, who was well-informed about my turmoil, grinned. He pushed the tied assassin away with his foot, paralyzed him so he wouldn’t flee, and started to draft something right on the floor, using his nail. A fiery trail followed his finger.
“To move to another world without being summoned, a half-demon would need at least forty sacrifices. Maybe less, but then you wouldn’t be able to maintain the vector. Now, look at the formulae and the parameters: speed, direction, accuracy, safety...
I didn’t get a good night’s sleep, but the night was very productive. In the morning, Argadon left, taking the assassin with him, and I went to the barracks, in a very appropriate mood: sleepy, but content.
The pain didn’t go away; it was still inside me, but sooner or later, it would pass. All things must pass, as a wise man from another world had said. Argadon had told me that.
***
The next day, I found Viscount Latour on his own—in his house, before breakfast. I climbed in through the window.
So what? If assassins were allowed to do that, why could I? As an honest half-demon, I wouldn’t even take a copper! I wouldn’t even kill the viscount, even if later, he would regret it.
I got down to business straight away. “Who gave you the love potions?”
A garrote around the neck was an iron-clad guarantee of truth. The viscount grunted, farted, and came clean.
Of course, it had been Abigail’s doing. For the sake of variety, the viscount wasn’t her relative, but a shirttail cousin of Ruthina’s husband, and he had readily agreed to a short marriage.
His task had been to court Carlie, and after my marriage, arrange an accident for her, with the queen’s help.
Love? What are you talking about? How could I love a bastard’s whore?
An assassin? Well...the viscount just couldn’t stand that—that vulgar girl wasn’t even a virgin! Eww!
I still have no idea how I was able to hold back. I’m pretty sure that I shaved some enamel from my teeth, that’s how hard I ground them.
I didn’t tighten the garrote, however. Instead, I gently smiled at the viscount.
“Dear boy, from now on, you’ll have to worship at Carlie’s feet. Keep in mind, that you and your family are only alive as long as she is.”
“B-but...”
Maybe it was something of Argadon’s that awoke inside me.
“You shall love her, cherish her, adore her, wait on her hand and foot, so not even a shadow falls on her, got it? Or go on and order coffins for your entire family.”
“B-but...”
“Even if the most unfortunate of accidents happens to her, you’ll die next.”
The viscount finally grasped my meaning. I gave his face a final shove in the mirror and left. It was a good shove, too, bound to leave scars for a long time. All the better—it would help him remember my words.
That was all I could do for Carlie.
***
Five days passed in relative peace, and then, she turned up, Baroness Mirei.
I quickly realized she had been tasked with hunting me. As soon as I got introduced by Andre, a pretty blonde pressed right up against me, showing me her cleavage and almost jumping out of her dress in excitement.
“Your Highness, you’re so smart...”
“Your Highness, what do you think about...”
“Your Highness, I would love some wine. Can we have some?”
If I hadn’t expected anything like that, I would have been caught, hook, line, and sinker, and never noticed how the girl passed her hand over my glass, a huge ring on her finger, pouring some powder from it right into my wine. I had to raise it my lips, hold it for a bit, and sniff it. It smelled of herbs, mostly. Was it poison? Unlikely. Probably a love potion, that would be more useful. Generally, such potions shouldn’t work on half-demons, or wouldn’t affect us as much, but I decided not to risk it, just in case.
I gave a sign to Tommy, carefully poured out the wine on the nearest curtain, twice, and stared at the blonde with lust-filled eyes. Apparently, that had been the intended course, as she relaxed a bit, got permission to call me Alex, and demanded a dance. And three dances, by the way, were practically tantamount to a declaration of intentions, so I had to “twist my ankle” during the second one.
Abigail watched us, a pleased look on her face. It was Tommy and Rene’s turn. The first pulled the blonde away to dance with her, while the second...
“Alex, I haven’t seen her before. Who is that?”
“I hav
e no idea either. Just a pretty girl with a love potion...”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Could you ask around about her? And take me away, my leg hurts...”
I stopped limping as soon as we were outside the door. Rene promised to find everything out and ran away, while I went to the balcony.
Weird. Why would they foist that girl on me?
***
Everything was revealed in two days—that was how much time it had taken Rene to get the low-down.
Baroness Mirei didn’t exist, and neither did the barony. They had simply taken a girl basically from a brothel, cleaned and prettied her up, and given her a task—and she rushed to charm me.
It was a good plan. Auntie had thought me young and inexperienced, that I would easily be swayed by her heaving bosom, and especially after losing my love, that I would want to prove Carlie that I was no worse off.
Abigail had given Carlie love potions because my bride had been too good of a match for me. She came from a family in good standing, even if not noble. Common people would melt over us as a couple, and that would be unacceptable. Therefore, Auntie had schemed to remove Carlie from the picture, pour a love potion into my soup, and then make me marry a streetwalker and have a child. As for the aftermath, there were several possibilities, from vilifying me in the eyes of the whole of Radenor—the king can’t be married to a commoner, unless it’s a truly romantic story—to straight-up blackmail. Do what we say, or we’ll tell everybody who your wife and the mother of your children really is.
And then, children from such a poor match could never inherit the throne. A prince and a former concubine? My reputation would be in shambles. All in all, not a bad plot. But who’s to say it will work?
In any case, I decided not to drive the girl away. Let her hang around. Better the devil you know. If I got rid of her, Abigail could concoct another plan.
As for Carlie, if only you knew how awful it felt to see her every day, happy, content, with a disgustingly guilty look in her eyes each time she saw me. I hadn’t killed the viscount, even if I could have!
And then, my uncle called upon me.
“Alex, Andre is going to marry Duke Rataver’s daughter.”
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