[While on a rescue mission gone crazed, a holy warrior and a rogue fight bandits, demons, and the urge to rip each other's clothes off.]
The mission, rescuing a princess, could be going better.
Séa is an earnest paladin, honest and gullible. Tash is...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Zorexis played host and ushered the party back to the parlor. All five found seats on padded, embroidered, never-used furniture. In the yellow light, the incubus's skin glowed a reddish brown, and his magnificent black hair seemed even glossier. Séa plopped on a fancy chair. It creaked under the weight of her and her armor, and something thumped. Séa leaned to see that her dangling mace had dented a carved chair leg. She grimaced.
"Me, first, darling," Chantelle said as she pulled her demon lover down next to her on a settee. She patted his knee, then addressed her rescuers. "My father knew I would hate the idea of an arranged marriage. He said I and I alone could reunite the kingdoms. That made me feel powerful for a few hours, but then it occurred to me that I had nothing to do with the peace treaty. They could have declared peace without involving me as some sort of bargaining chit."
"Hear, hear, sister." Tash lounged in a plush wingback chair with one leg splayed over a padded armrest. She fidgeted with a bejeweled letter-opener, one of the ostentatious props that littered the room.
The young noblewoman tucked a lock of her sandy hair behind an ear. "I made no secret of my displeasure. When Brant approached me with his plan of pre-emptive kidnapping, I considered it. The idea was that I would simply disappear until they renegotiated the treaty or ripped it up." She pantomimed a yawn. "As if I cared which. At any rate, Brant assured me that my needs would be taken care of. I would see new sights and meet new people. Travel always broadens one's perspective, they say."
"No mention of Vawl or B'Fadzh at this point?" Ghomarck moldered in the wrinkled folds of his own robe, hunched forward like a weary old owl wrapped in a blanket.
"No, no. Not at all." Chantelle took a moment to nip her companion's ear lobe.
His lips curled upwards, and his eyelids half closed.
Smugness colored her expression. "The carriage ride in the dead of night held its own thrills. I felt very daring and rebellious. When we arrived here at the keep, Zorexis awaited me. Suffice it say, my excursion has been a success so far."
Tash nailed the princess with a crusty glare. "Except you're trapped here."
Chantelle brushed the air in a dismissive gesture. "Not that I have a clue what day it is, but I can't have been here long. Besides, you're here. I'm rescued, aren't I?"
"Rescued. That's cockeyed optimism, that is," Tash said.
"Let's hear from the demon." Séa's voice sounded harsh in her own ears.
"My job was to keep Chantelle happy." Zorexis earned a knee-squeeze from the princess.
The rogue pinched the bridge of her nose as if suffering a splitting headache.
The paladin leaned forward, and her rusted breastplate crumpled. "Argh," she said. "I mean, Zorexis, tell us everything. Who. When. Why. How."
The incubus blinked at the torn metal of the breastplate, then re-crossed his bare legs. "I will nearly comply, milady. Please keep in mind that demons of rank beneath planar lord are not free to do as they please. My orders came from my hierarchy, and if you don't mind I won't name names. My own life would be forfeit if I do. But Hachta is my plane and you may deduce my planar lord's identity from there. The name of Vawl has tickled my ear because this fellow Brant is a devotee of the god of war. I bow to your wisdom, of course, but I suspect some deal was struck between these exalted personages, B'Fadzh and Vawl. We can only guess at the terms of the deal."
