Lord of the Night

Chapter 5: Drinks with a Demon

Isalio didn't look much better than before. He huddled on the floor in the corner of the room, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. He perked up a little when his gaze met mine, but his eyes were bloodshot and face lined.

Inexplicable irritation tightened my voice. "I told you to rest. Why haven't you?"

His eyes flitted to the bottle in my left hand, then alighted on the tattered sheet in my right. "Remgar, is that...did you bring me a blanket?"

I set the bottle down on the table next to the empty packet of food—at least he had eaten—and tossed the blanket toward his feet. "I thought you might still be cold."

He studied my face for a few seconds, eyebrows pulled close together and head slightly tilted. Then, without unbending his legs, he reached out a hand to snag the blanket. He tucked the sheet over his legs and released a long, shuddering exhale.

I frowned at him. "You still look too weak."

"And you still look too sexy, but you don't see me complaining."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You realize I can change my mind any time, don't you? I can go get Marqan right now."

His head dipped to rest on his knees, and he regarded me through his lashes. "Will you?"

"Not if you stop flirting with me and take me seriously."

He lifted his head and drew back his shoulders. "I do take you seriously. I know you can do whatever you want with me, and there's nothing I can do to stop you. Still..." He nodded at the bottle clutched in my hand and flipped out a hand in a half-shrug. "Why not enjoy my last moments?"

My brow furrowed, but I nodded. I popped the cap off the bottle and tilted it into a mug. An aroma of sweet nutmeg wafted into the chamber, barely obscuring a bitter sting. This batch was strong.

When the amber liquid splashed halfway up the mug, I strode toward the corner and offered it to him. He took it from me, but he paused before taking a sip. I wondered if he could smell the heavy concentration of zaikut as well as I could.

He swirled the cup and stared at the contents. "Actually, I just remembered...I don't drink alone."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a rule I made for myself years ago. I only drink if someone else drinks with me."

I huffed a laugh and rolled my eyes. "Well, I don't drink with my enemies."

"Then we find ourselves at an impasse." He arched an eyebrow. "Unless you are planning to force it down my throat?"

The question sounded almost innocent...but not quite. My throat dried, and my hands clammed up. I could threaten to hand him off to Marqan if he refused to drink—but was that a threat I wanted to follow through on?

Maybe some zaikut would steady my nerves. Though I hadn't had any for years, I knew my tolerance would far exceed his. Guardians were blessed–or perhaps cursed–to remain level-headed through everything.

Demons were notorious lightweights.

"One for one?" I asked.

He clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes. He must have known as well as I did how unequal the offer was. I waited for his refusal or counteroffer. Instead, he shrugged. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yes. But I have to warn you..."

I raised my eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. Was he about to claim a high tolerance? Threaten me? Reveal powers?