Split of the Worlds (18+)

Chapter 11.2

No one stood in Tazeel's way as he strolled into N'Arahn's throne room. He had ignored protocol and, accompanied by two of his captains, made his way through the fortress without announcement. Normally, N'Arahn would have punished his captains for their negligence, for of course his fortress had reported the "visit" to him, but he expected more vigilance from his servants. However, he decided to take extenuating circumstances into account: Tazeel wore three black bands on his arm.

With a grin and a mocking bow, the green-skinned demonlord came to a halt before the ironwood throne.

"Greetings, brother."

N'Arahn would have preferred to ignore him, but one did not treat His official emissary rudely. He nodded to him.

"Tazeel." Then, to Cek, who stood beside him. "Bring the emissary a chair and a chalice."

His captain hurried off, returning with the requested items just a few heartbeats later. He pushed the chair behind the seducer with a bow and handed the elaborately decorated goblet to N'Arahn.

The warmonger looked questioningly at the demon he hated.

"What can I offer you?" As a high-ranking guest, Tazeel was entitled to not have to dip into his own resources. The lord of the fortress was obligated to entertain him, no matter how much he detested him.

But the seducer waved him off with a casual gesture and an exaggeratedly friendly smile.

"Don't go to any trouble. I'll take care of that myself."

That was a deliberate affront. N'Arahn felt a growl rise in his throat. Tazeel never missed an opportunity to deny him the respect he was due, but today he would have to accept it.

He handed the chalice back to Cek, who gave it to the green-skinned demonlord. He wouldn't meet this creep halfway, not even an iota. Except... For a moment, he indulged in the memory of wrapping his hand around Tazeel's throat. Slowly, he clenched his hand into a fist.

"How is the sweet angel doing?"

N'Arahn was surprised at himself that no flames burst from his skin. Yet though he was seething inside, he remained completely calm on the outside.

"Excellent. I thank you for His Representative's interest."

Tazeel got the hint and grinned widely.

"That you warmongers can't appreciate a friendly conversation to lighten the mood... Always straight to business." He sighed theatrically.

"I don't want to keep Him waiting. Whatever the matter may be." N'Arahn couldn't voice any further rebuke without crossing a line, but he could claim a tiny victory, for his guest's smile froze for a moment. Tazeel's red eyes glowed.

"Then I assume we'll be discussing your progress with the angel soon, won't we?" A warning, or rather a threat.

N'Arahn's stomach clenched; he had made a mistake. Provoking the seducer might have been satisfying for a moment, but he had to remind himself that he wouldn't be the only one to pay the price.

They looked at each other in silence, neither moving. It was unnaturally quiet, for even the captains and lesser demons made no sound.

Then the green-skinned demonlord suddenly relaxed, smoothed out his tight-fitting black robe, and leaned back in the high-backed chair. He raised his glass to N'Arahn ironically, and N'Arahn reluctantly but promptly returned the gesture.

With one of his unnaturally long fingers, Tazeel tapped his bare upper arm, where the black bands he wore as identification were tied.

"As much as I enjoy our banter, I am here in His name, as you correctly observed. I have a message to deliver." He smiled. The light from the fire bowls flickered on his polished black teeth. The lord of the fortress would have loved to ram his fist into those teeth, shatter them, and watch Tazeel choke on the pieces.