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Robert stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom and studied himself. Dressing up for the grand banquet in celebration of Thomar’s second coronation anniversary had proven infuriatingly difficult.
With a wistful sigh, Robert thought back to last year’s banquet when he had still been rather new to the Duke’s service and when he had been nothing but some ageing pet, happy to have found an owner who seemed interested enough to keep him for a while.
It was almost inconceivable how much had changed in one year. He was secure in the knowledge that he was loved and cherished. He had a master he loved and trusted to an extent that could only be called stupid. Those of the ducal court 'in the know' regarded him as an important player, since his position was so thoroughly removed from the chain of command. Not that he ever actually did anything, but they believed he had influence on the Duke, and that was enough to make them wary and polite. It was rare that he was approached by anyone, but it did happen when someone thought he might sponsor their wishes before the Duke or when they were trying to get a feel for how Thomar would react to something.
At last year’s banquet, no one had paid attention to him and that had included Thomar, who had been busy keeping on top of all the political innuendo flying around the table. Robert hadn't spoken to anyone and he didn’t remember what he had been wearing that evening.
This year would be very different. He would still be seated on a comfortable pillow next to his master’s chair. But people would constantly have an eye on him and take note of every word exchanged between him and the Duke. Some might even find it necessary to include him in conversations, which would force them to bend down to him – something Thomar found endlessly amusing, Robert guessed. That was probably precisely the reason he was still on the floor.
So what did one wear for such an occasion? A younger pet would have been perfectly dressed with something skimpy and distracting. But such attire had started looking ridiculous on Robert years ago. So it had to be something respectable, but not too elaborate so as not to outshine the noble guests. A fine edge to walk upon.
Despite the time he had already invested, Robert wasn’t overly satisfied with the results of his raid on his wardrobe. Wearing a classic dinner jacket with matching pants in a muted green and a white shirt seemed boring to him. But it was the best he could do with the limited material he had to pick from. The next time someone tried to bribe him, he would drop some discreet hints that he would appreciate an extended date with a talented tailor.
The real problem was that he genuinely looked forward to the banquet. He had always enjoyed social events. Now that he wasn’t just some pretty accessory to be ignored, used or given away on such occasions, they were even better. Sadly, Thomar didn't have much interest in social functions, so they were a rare treat. Maybe, hopefully, that would change when he got older.
Which reminded Robert that Thomar hadn’t appeared to refresh himself and change into his own evening dress after a marathon of audiences with well-wishers bearing all sorts of gifts.
Checking the clock, Robert realised that Thomar was only a few minutes late. Apparently, his search for proper clothes had unnerved him to the point that he had misjudged the time.
He was about to take another look inside his wardrobe to maybe find something better when he heard the door to the ducal quarters bang open, followed by the sound of Thomar laughing, slightly breathless, followed by a higher-pitched giggle that had a beautiful musical ring to it.
Thomar's laughter was already unusual, but the giggle was definitely out of place. Who was with Thomar? And why? With a curious frown, Robert entered the main room, and almost wished he hadn't.
Thomar was pressing a mostly naked girl against the wall, passionately kissing her throat. No, not a girl. She was much too beautiful and too perfectly formed to be a mere girl. If that hadn't been obvious enough, the slim tail with a triangle tip snaking around Thomar’s legs and the tiny, leathery wings being crushed against the wall called out 'succubus' loud enough for a deaf man to hear. She was beautiful. Lustrous red hair fell down to her hips in thick curls, she was all curves and pale, naked flesh with a weave of gold filigree hiding strategic parts.
Thomar looked dishevelled and entirely absorbed with the succubus, and Robert realised the sudden constriction in his chest was a pang of intense jealousy. He didn’t mind when Thomar sampled other delights. After all, he was a young man with an appetite Robert couldn’t match, and he certainly deserved to experiment. But Thomar had never brought anyone home and they had other things to do tonight. Celebrating his birthday, for one.
Robert cleared his throat noisily, trying to gain Thomar’s attention, but got no reaction. The succubus, however, noticed him standing there, winked seductively, and possessively wrapped her arms around Thomar’s neck and her tail tighter around his legs.
It was a clear challenge. He should slap that little bitch.
Instead, he spoke up. “Thomar?”
Hearing his name finally got him to stop sucking on the demon girl’s throat. She only reluctantly let go of him while her tail kept caressing his legs. There was a huge, happy grin on Thomar’s face, distastefully happy.
“Isn’t she absolutely awesome?!” Thomar beamed like a child opening presents on Diwali morning.
Oh, she was beautiful, there was no arguing that. But 'awesome' was not a term Robert would have associated with that slutty demon. He eyed her to give his professional opinion, but his master clearly wasn’t interested in that.
“She’s a gift. My very own succubus!”
He was way too delighted by the idea. It almost sounded like he planned to keep her. The sudden threat to his position made Robert halt. He had been so sure that Thomar wouldn't get a younger, prettier pet to replace him. Thomar was happy with him. What would he need another pet for? He didn’t WANT Thomar to have another pet beside him. He would understand that, surely, but maybe not right now, with all the excitement about his shiny new gift.
“She looks ... exotic.”
“Oh, she is!” Thomar laughed, looking slightly flushed by whatever image that word conjured in his mind. “And she tastes awesome!”
The succubus giggled at the praise and actually blushed. She was good at this game, she was a succubus after all and probably had centuries of experience.
“Such a sweet thing.” Thomar ran his hand up her thigh possessively, already distracted again.
“Yes, well,” Robert interjected, “I’m sure she won’t mind waiting for you. You should get ready for the banquet.”
“Oh, right.” Thomar nodded, barely taking his eyes of her. “Actually, I have decided to take her to the banquet.”
“What?!” The angry exclamation was out before Robert could stop it, and he didn’t feel like stopping it anyway. “Why would you take her?”
Now, Thomar looked at him, frowning. “Because she will look gorgeous, cuddled up against my leg. What the fuck is your problem?”
For a moment, Robert was speechless with anger and sputtered helplessly. He wasn’t good at arguing. Actually, this was probably the first time he ever argued with a master. But that wouldn’t stop him. Even if he didn't know how to voice his feelings.
“You know perfectly well how much I was looking forward to the banquet!”
Now, Thomar's frown took a dark edge. “So? It’s not like it’s the last banquet ever. Why are you making such a big deal of it?”
“I have been looking forward to it for weeks. It's important to me!”
“Well. I'll certainly enjoy it more with her!” Thomar snapped back. “Shouldn’t my happiness be your primary concern?!”
“Your happiness is my primary concern. And I don’t think she will make you happy!”
He saw the fury rise in Thomar’s eyes but when Thomar crossed the short distance between them and slapped him hard, he was too stunned to dodge the blow.
“How dare you presume to decide what is good for me?!” his master hissed, “You forget your place, slave!”
His words hurt much more than the slap. Some part of Robert was stubbornly refusing to accept he had heard them, while the rest of him was paralysed with the pain they caused. But thankfully, there was always his training to fall back on. After all, he had years and years of that.
He dropped to his knees and lowered his eyes almost reflexively. “I’m sorry I displeased you, master.” Was that flat voice really his? He didn’t sound like he meant it and, honestly, he didn’t. He felt numb.
“Don’t play me for a fool! Are you that jealous of the poor girl? I can’t believe how selfish you are!” Thomar paced away, turned, and stopped in front of him. “I think it’s best if you cool your heels for a while and remember your proper place,” he declared coldly, ”I want you to pack your things. T’lark will pick you up and take you to one of my country estates.”
How had things suddenly gone so wrong? What was happening? What?
Thomar was sending him away. Why? None of this made sense. But he was sending him away, right now. That was all that finally penetrated the haze of anger and confusion.
Beg. He needed to beg. Now. Quickly. Before it was too late.
But when he looked up, it was too late already. Thomar and that terrible succubus were gone.
***
The country estate was beautiful, no way around that. It was located far away from the capital, in much warmer climates, on the shore of a large lake. Built from local white stone, it had an open, airy flair, huge windows, and many terraces overlooking the gardens and the lake itself. It was so far from everything that it had been overlooked by the demons during the invasion, and had remained undamaged. It exuded that kind of muted luxury that must have been refined by its owners over generations.
The servants had been delighted to welcome them, happy to have someone to dote on after being pretty much forgotten since long before the invasion.
Robert had been installed in a guest suite larger than the ducal quarters and much more lavishly furnished.
Not that Robert paid any attention to the details or to his surroundings in general. At first, he had been in mute shock, unable to comprehend what had happened.
T’lark had decided to get him drunk to ‘get him out of it’. That had resulted in a temper tantrum that Robert would have considered himself incapable of, sober or drunk. He had thrown things. Breakable things.
After that, he had sunk into the foulest of moods, spending his days sitting on the window sill of the sitting room, gloomily staring out at the lake or, if the view grew too cheerful for him to bear, sitting on the floor under the window with his back to the wall.
That was where he currently resided, his knees drawn up, his head buried under his arms.
It had been more than a week but still no word from the capital, nothing from Thomar in all that time. Nothing.
Like the estate, Robert appeared to have been forgotten.
No matter how often Robert rolled it around in his head, no matter how often he replayed that scene in his mind, he couldn’t understand how things could have gone so wrong so quickly.
He had been so sure of Thomar’s love. A stupid rookie pet’s mistake, of course. He had been sold often enough to know that fondness for a prized possession was not to be confused with love. When your master said he loved you, he didn’t mean it that way. But Thomar had meant it that way. He had. Even though all evidence now said differently, he had meant it exactly that way when he had said so.
But Thomar also was a brilliant liar. Maybe this had all been an elaborate game to him?
He was young. Maybe he had grown bored of his ageing, unexciting pet?
Whatever the reason, the result was a nightmare. Discarded once again. If he was very, very lucky, he would remain forgotten, banished to this remote place for the rest of his life.
Much more likely he would be sold again.
Robert tried to wrap his mind around that thought, to steel himself against the inevitable. But every time he tried, he shied away from it. It was literally unthinkable. He couldn’t go back to how he had been, that mindless, soulless pet void of any personality. He needed Thomar. No matter what Thomar may or may not have felt for him, Robert loved him.
He would rather die than go on without him.
Something soft and wet gently prodded his bare arm, accompanied by a deeply worried whine. Alain was lying on the floor, next to him, looking miserable. With a choked sob, Robert picked up the puppy and cuddled him closely. Not an easy feat anymore as the young demonhound had grown a lot and now barely fit into his arms.
While the estate was a perfect place for Alain to run around in the garden and play in the shallow waters at the edge of the lake, he refused to leave his master’s side, much like Robert would have clung to his master’s side if he were allowed to.
Robert buried his face in Alain’s soft fur. How many more times would he be able to do this? If he was sold again, he would lose Alain, too. No sane trader would allow a slave to have a demonhound. It was clear what would happen to his poor darling – he would be put down. Alain would never accept another master.
His cruel mind painted a vivid image for him: Alain lying on his side in a pool of blood, his beautiful eyes staring sightless at Robert, confused about this betrayal of his unconditional love and trust.
Tears stung in his eyes, hot and bitter and so very alien to him. He had not cried in a very long time. Had believed himself long past such weakness. He had learned to take everything life threw at him and stoically shrug it off. How could he have allowed himself to fall in love? He had warned his share of younger pets about it. How had he fallen into that trap himself?
Alain squirmed a little in Robert’s arms but settled again, sensing how much his master needed his comfort. Robert let his tears run freely, quietly, unable to contain his grief any longer.
How many times had he been abandoned, discarded, given away like some worthless trinket? He couldn’t remember. Too often to count, anyway. He had never cried about it. But this was different. Different because he had dared to believe. Dared to love. The ugly truth was that there was no one who cared for him, no one who loved him apart from the wonderful, furry creature in his arms who would soon be dead.
“Robert?”
The voice barely managed to penetrate the gloom and Robert didn’t bother looking up.
“Gods! Robert!”
Strong arms wrapped around him and Alain and he felt himself gathered against another warm body tightly, protectively. Finally, he recognised the voice as T’lark’s.
“Shush,” the N'Ptalini gently told him, ”I’m here.”
What a stupid thing to say. What an entirely perfect thing to say. Of course, it would not help in the end, but to know that someone did care was all he needed to regain some measure of control over himself again. It only took him a few minutes.
Eventually, he disentangled himself and poor, crushed Alain from T’lark’s embrace and wiped his wet face with the hem of his shirt, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t want to burden his friend with his problems.
“Care to tell me what that was all about?” T'lark promptly asked, settling on the floor next to Robert more comfortably, ”I could feel your anguish from across the gardens.”
Of course, he would have noticed. Robert was so used to T’lark, he sometimes forgot that the N'Ptalini was a weak telepath and empath. His talents worked better on people he knew, so he would have easily picked up on Robert’s despair. And being more curious than any cat, of course he wouldn’t let the matter rest.
“I assume it’s about Thomar sending you away, right?”
Robert nodded, maybe that would be enough to satisfy the N'Ptalini.
“Don’t worry about it so much,” T’lark tried to reassure him, “I’m sure he’ll be bored with that succubus soon enough. He’ll miss you and call you back.”
He wanted to keep his mouth shut. But the words had a will of their own and spilled out, “But what if he doesn’t? What if he sells me?”
T’lark frowned at him and Robert realised that thought had never crossed the N'Ptalini’s mind. “Nonsense. He’d never sell you. He loves you.” The simple conviction in his voice was strangely reassuring. After all, he was an empath. ”And even if he was stupid enough to sell you. So what? I’d buy you.”
“You ... what?!” Robert blurted out, staring at T’lark open-mouthed.
The warrior looked back at him with a raised eyebrow as if Robert were some idiot. “Well, of course.”
“But ... why...?” Robert had been sure that T’lark was merely his friend. He had never detected any interest going further than that. Could he have misjudged that as well? “I... didn’t know you ... wanted a pet...?”
“What?” He looked as startled as Robert felt, but he apparently picked up on Robert’s thoughts and broke into heartfelt laughter. “No, don't be silly. I definitely don’t want to fuck you.” He laid a gentle hand on Robert’s shoulder. “You are my friend. I would never allow for you to be sold off to gods-know-where, to some bastard who doesn’t appreciate you. I have no use for a pet but I’d need someone to look after that demonhound I’d have running around suddenly.”
Robert needed a moment to process that in all its complex wonder. To T’lark, it was obvious and simple, but it was a revelation with a million implications. It meant he wouldn’t lose Alain. It meant T’lark cared for him in an entirely different way. He didn’t expect anything from Robert. No obedience, no good looks or any sort of performance. It meant he would never be discarded for losing his usefulness, because usefulness simply didn’t enter into the equation. T’lark simply helped a friend because, in his eyes, that was the right thing to do.
For the second time, Robert felt the prick of tears in his eyes. But this time, he managed to keep his composure, only his voice betraying his emotion. “Thank you.”
Alain picked up on the change in his master’s mood and correctly identified the source. With a happy ‘woof’, he tackled T’lark and began to lick his face.
Watching T’lark playfully battle against the attack, Robert realised how stupid his earlier thoughts had been. He couldn’t simply choose death over living without Thomar. Alain needed him. He would have to find a way to go on and he wouldn’t be alone. This time, there was one distinct difference to the other times his previous masters had discarded him – he had a friend. A free, commoner friend who had options and was willing to share them. It felt like the weight of a mountain had been lifted off his heart.
“Better now?” T’lark asked once he had wrestled Alain down.
Robert managed a weak smile. “I think so.”
“I don’t see what you are getting so worked up about.” T’lark shook his head. “You should trust Thomar. He does love you.”
“Then why did he send me away like that?” Robert voiced the question that kept rattling through his head.
T’lark rubbed his nose, wiping off some demonhound drool. “I guess he wanted some alone-time with that new pet? I didn’t see her, but I guess she must be pretty cute. I mean, if he really hated you all of a sudden, why'd he send me with you to look after you? That makes no sense.”
“None of it makes sense!” Robert growled angrily. “He didn’t even seem angry when he said he’d send me away.”
And it was true. Thomar had been so cold and careless. That wasn’t like him at all.
Robert blinked.
“T’lark, do you think it’s possible that succubus is somehow controlling him?”
“What? No.” T’lark shook his head. “Thomar is well protected against demonic influence. After all, he has to deal with them every day.” Yet, a little frown appeared on his brow.
“But you have to admit he did behave rather strangely.”
“Hrm.” T’lark seemed obviously displeased with the thought, but unable to discard it outright.
“So what if they did find a way? It would be very useful to have control over the Duke of Aylian.” The more Robert thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. “Of course they would have to get rid of me. I would notice any change in him. And it would also explain why he sent you away, as well. 'Cause you're the only psion sufficiently familiar with him to detect that someone was influencing him.”
T’lark laughed shakily. “You read too many of those intrigue-filled romance novels. And he has exceptional mental shields. I doubt I would be able to tell anything anyway.”
“Easy enough to find out.” Robert smiled at his friend innocently. “I have been banished from court, but you haven’t. Why don’t you pay a visit and discreetly check on our duke? If his shields are intact and he seems normal to you, we will know for sure.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” T’lark agreed. But he didn’t sound convinced at all.
***
It was another beautiful day. The afternoon sun was drenching the terrace where Robert was pacing in a soft golden light. Alain, who as usual had picked up on his mood, was following in his footsteps with an adorable frown of his own. He had no clue what his master was worrying about, so he instead worried about his master.
At least, Robert guessed that was the case. He should have spent his time playing with Alain instead of pacing futilely, but he couldn’t help it. What if something had happened to T'lark?
The N'Ptalini had left the estate in the morning, heading back to Toraskah. Officially, it was to pick up some additional stuff he had left behind, as he had not expected his stay out here to be an extended one. Unofficially, it was to check on Thomar and find out if he had somehow been manipulated by the succubus.
Robert wasn’t entirely sure what news he wanted his friend to return with.
If Thomar was not under any influence, it would mean that he truly had discarded Robert without a second thought and had apparently forgotten about him.
However, if demons somehow did control the young Duke, it would mean that Robert would have to do something about it. Not just because the man he loved was enthralled by his enemies, but also because he stupidly felt it was his duty to the Empire. Where had that ridiculous notion come from? He had no clue what to do in such a case! How did one go about saving his master? Nobody ever taught things like that to a pet. Hopefully, T’lark would have a brilliant plan. After all, he was much more experienced when it came to mad adventures.
With a shake of his head and an exasperated laugh, Robert wondered how he had ended up in this position. He was an ageing pet who deserved a quiet life with an equally ageing owner.
Alain commented on his laugh with a happy ‘woof’ and used the opportunity to overtake him and happily bounce around his feet.
At least, he had an eager demonhound to throw at any enemies, Robert mused. He just had to make sure there was zero chance of Alain getting hurt in the process.
T’lark had promised he would be back by lunchtime. That was two hours ago now.
“Whatever are we going to do if he doesn’t come back?” Robert asked Alain.
For a long moment, Alain stared back at him with a deep frown, trying to decipher what his master wanted from him. Then he gave up and made the sweetest sad face accompanied by a confused whine.
“Never mind,” Robert reassured him, crouching down and hugging the huge whelp who pounced into his arms, “We’ll figure something out.”
He wasn’t sure what had changed, but he was no longer willing to lie down and die. He had been so very happy and he was going to fight to get that back. Even if that was an utterly ridiculous notion for a pet.
“WROOF!” Alain exclaimed.
At first, Robert thought his demonhound was agreeing with him, but Alain wriggled out of his embrace and ran off across the terrace towards the landing pad. Moments later, Robert heard it too, the sound of a hoverglider nearing and the whine as the engines prepared for landing.
Now, he followed Alain at an entirely undignified jog.
When he got to the landing pad, Alain was already running excited circles around T’lark, but for once the N'Ptalini did not greet the demonhound in kind. Instead, his expression was dark, and when he spotted Robert, he headed straight for him.
“We need to talk.” He gestured for Robert to follow him and headed away from the mansion, into the gardens – the only place where they could be relatively sure they wouldn’t be overheard.
Robert followed, his heart suddenly beating in his throat. So he had been right, something was wrong. He had to be brave now. He would have to fight for his happiness and love. But his hands were trembling. Whatever would he be able to do about anything? He was a pet. He wasn’t especially smart, he didn’t have connections, and he certainly wasn’t a fighter.
He was so lost in trying to keep down his despair, he nearly ran into T’lark when the N'Ptalini stopped, his expression grim.
“You were right.”
“What happened?”
The warrior rubbed his face, looking tired and exhausted. “I don’t know how they did this, and I don’t have a clue who ‘they’ are, but whoever is sitting on the throne right now is not Thomar. That is some really good doppelgänger.”
Robert stared at him with honest surprise. A doppelgänger? He had thought that the succubus would somehow control Thomar. Of course, it made a lot more sense that the man who had so cruelly sent him away wasn’t Thomar at all. When had they switched him out? When Thomar had received that succubus pet? Or some time before that, during the various audiences of the day? Or even earlier, maybe the day before?
Robert shuddered as he thought about the sex that night. Had that been the doppelgänger fucking him, kissing him? The thought made his skin crawl, which was ridiculous considering how many strangers he had been fucked by in his career.
“You were right about the succubus pet, too. Only, she has managed to get into F’leer’s head. It’s a good thing I didn’t tell anyone I was there, but just sneaked around the palace for a while to get close enough to feel out F’leer and Thomar.” T’lark sounded angry. “That bitch! She has F’leer wrapped around her little finger. He’s a complete mess!”
Of course, he would be angry that his best friend had fallen victim to the demon’s seduction, which made perfect sense. With the Duke swapped with a doppelgänger and the Captain of his personal guard under control, there wasn’t anyone left who would dare to question sudden changes in Thomar’s behaviour. The nobles of the court were much too weary of their duke’s temper to stick their necks out.
“How'd you know it’s not Thomar?” Robert asked. Maybe they would have enough proof to convince someone to do something.
“Because I was able to read his mind.” T’lark kicked an innocent stone bench. “I have never been able to get into his head. His shields are brilliant. And now, I could easily skim his surface thoughts and he didn’t even notice. They are good, Robert. They are really good. There was nothing to see. Perfectly normal Quetzal duke.”
“But ... if ... how...” Robert shut his mouth.
Someone had kidnapped Thomar. His master, the one person he had ever loved was missing and might well be dead. With his knees going weak and his head spinning, he quickly sat down on the bench next to them.
T’lark paced angrily. “We need to do something! We can’t let them get away with this! There must be someone we can tell! Or something!” He stopped in front of Robert to glare at him. “Where the fuck is a Lotus Knight when you need one?!”
Only then did he notice Robert’s state and crouched in front of him, his face changing to worried. “Robert? Are you alright? You’re white as a sheet.”
“What if he’s dead?” Robert whispered. The words almost caught in his throat.
The fact that T’lark’s mouth worked soundlessly while he was trying to come up with something reassuring to say didn’t help.
“I’m sure he’s okay.”
That actually made Robert snort angrily. “He is most certainly not okay. He has been kidnapped and if he’s not dead, he is being held somewhere. We have to find him!”
“Right. Of course.” Now it was T’lark’s growl to snap at Robert. “And how are we going to do that?!”
For a moment, they stared at each other, on edge and angry about how helpless they felt. But they both had the same idea almost simultaneously and looked down at Alain, curiously sniffing some flowers next to the bench.
“Do you think he could...?” T’lark asked.
“Only one way to find out.” Robert clicked his tongue at Alain who immediately abandoned the flowers to come over to him. He put his front paws on the bench and excitedly wagged his tail.
Robert had read plenty about the demonhound’s amazing ability to pick up the trail of people anywhere. Supposedly, they were able to sense the souls of anyone they knew, or in a demon’s case some sort of unique signature. The texts he had studied all said that a demonhound’s master just needed to tell the beast who it was to find and the demonhound would lead the master to the quarry. It also said to put the hound on a leash before setting it on the trail or it would dash off. Demonhounds were especially prized because they could follow a psychic scent through multiple realms, but Robert had no idea if that would also work if Thomar was off-planet. And even if he could, how was Alain to tell them where to go? And how would they get there?
Maybe there was no point to worrying about all of this when he didn’t know if Alain would understand him.
He took the leash he always carried with him from his pocket, unrolled it, and fastened it to Alain’s collar. The tail-wagging intensified and Alain’s eyes shone with a hint of fire, intent and alert. Almost as if he were sensing an important task coming his way.
Taking a firm grip on the leash with one hand, Robert put the other under Alain’s snout and scratched the spot he knew Alain loved. “I need you to do something for me,” he told his eager puppy, “Find Thomar!”
Alain cocked his head to the side, looking at Robert, clearly processing the order. His eyes ignited with understanding and real fire. He didn’t completely burst into flames, but his eyes burned as he raised his head, sniffing the air, carefully turning his nose here and there. He seemed to catch a scent as he drew in a deep lungful.
Robert expected him to dash off now and held on tight to the leash but instead Alain turned back to him with a funnily serious-sounding “wroof”, got off the bench, and insistently pulled in one direction. He was exceptionally well-behaved, Robert realised.
And he obviously had found a trace of the Duke of Aylian – which meant Thomar was likely not dead, as everything Robert had read about demonhounds said that they were only able to find living creatures. Robert briefly closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Right,” T’lark said, sounding thoroughly impressed, “Now, how do we get him to lead us to Thomar? I mean, we can’t run after him across the planet.”
The N'Ptalini was right and Robert had no clue. Alain kept pulling on the leash and looked back at Robert with clear reproach. He was eager to do what his master had asked him to.
“How about we take the glider?” T’lark suggested. “We have a general direction now. So we fly that way and regularly let him out and re-check where we need to go.”
“Sounds good.”
It would work as long as Thomar was on the planet. And Alain wasn’t barking up at the sky, so Robert hoped he was still dirtside. He had no clue why the demons would still need Thomar, and close by, too, but he wasn’t going to question this good fortune.
The landing pad wasn’t the way Alain had been pulling and at first, he resisted. To their amazement, he seemed to understand what they were intending to do when he saw the glider. He barked excitedly and jumped right in.
T’lark started up the engine and, when they were in the air, Alain surprised them again. He took a moment, turning in a circle and settled, his nose firmly pointing the way he had been pulling before.
“That puppy of yours is a marvel,” T’lark stated.
Robert nodded and raked his fingers through the thick fur on Alain’s neck. They would find Thomar and they would rescue him somehow and everything would miraculously return back to the way it had been, he told himself.
Not that he believed it. But maybe, if he repeated it often enough, it would come true anyway.
***
“So what are we going to do now?” Robert whispered, not knowing why he kept his voice low. There was no chance of them being overheard. Still, it seemed the right thing to do.
They were at the top of a small hill, hidden behind some boulders, looking down at the ruins of some burned-down mansion. The sun had set an hour earlier and only the moon and the eerie purple-greenish glow emanating from the demon portal in orbit illuminated the derelict building.
It must have been a magnificent property once, but apparently had burned to the ground during the demon invasion and was now abandoned. One of countless such places all over Aylian – it would be decades before all of them would be rebuilt. If someone made the effort at all.
It had been Alain who had led them here. The ruins were located south of the capital, only a few minutes by glider. Alain was insistently growling at the ruins, pulling on his leash, which hopefully meant that Thomar was somewhere in there. It would make sense to stash Thomar somewhere nearby and in easy reach if they needed him for something.
T’lark was frowning. “We should try and get some help. We have no idea who or what might wait for us in there.”
That sounded sensible to Robert. After all, he would be of no use in a fight.
“However, I have no idea who we can trust. We don’t know who might be involved in this plot,” T’lark added.
Robert's first thought was of Lady Karr. She was a formidable warrior and had plenty of troops at her disposal. But she also was a demon, and as much as Robert wanted to believe she could be trusted, he wasn't willing to bet Thomar's life on it.
“What about the N'Ptalini from Thomar’s village?” he suggested instead, “Surely they would help.”
T’lark's frown only deepened. “They probably would, but that isn’t my main concern. They have had Thomar for at least a week and only the gods know what they have been doing to him. I would hate to leave now and come back in a couple of hours only to find that he has been killed in the meantime. Plus, they have no transportation of their own, so we have no way of getting them here.”
That thought made Robert’s heart miss several beats. Thomar couldn’t die. Not now, not when he was so close to getting him back.
“I say we at least get a closer look,” T’lark continued, “If there are too many guards, we can pull back and try to get help.”
Alain bared his teeth in a feral snarl as if he understood. Robert looked down at his trembling hands holding the leash. In those romance novels he was so fond of, the heroes sooner or later found themselves 'shaking in their boots'. Now he knew what the authors meant with those words. Nothing he had ever wanted to learn. And yet, he drew a deep breath. He wouldn’t let his fear stop him. He would rescue Thomar in complete defiance of what was expected of a pet.
“Okay,” he agreed, ”Let's go.”
T’lark grinned at him. “You know, one of these days I’ll have to take a look into your pants 'cause I swear you are starting to grow balls, pet.”
Robert stared at him in mute outrage. And then laughed shakily as he realised how true his friend’s words were.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was dimly aware that there was a good chance he would die, here, today, on this mad attempt to free the Duke of Aylian from the demons who had abducted him. It sounded like the synopsis of a Lotus Knight movie. But as T’lark had stated earlier, there was no Lotus Knight available, so plain old Robert would have to do. He tried to form some heroic phrase in his mind like ‘at least I will die fighting’ but it sounded just too ridiculous. He wanted Thomar back, wanted the knowledge that Thomar stood between him and any danger.
“Ready?” T’lark asked.
“No,” Robert mirrored the answer he had given to Thomar only a few weeks ago when they had stood outside that Verata monastery, “but let’s go anyway.”
Carefully, they made their way down the hill towards the dark ruin, with Robert holding on tightly to Alain’s leash.
The demonhound kept on pulling, trying to lead his master to the prey he had been set upon. He did not, however, dash off madly like all the instruction texts about demonhounds had claimed. Robert attributed that to how differently Alain had been raised. Even in these dire circumstances, he couldn’t help feeling proud of himself and his fiery darling.
The crumbling building before them looked utterly deserted, but Robert had no doubt that Alain had led them to the right spot. After all, it was a perfect hiding place. No one would search here. This in turn gave him hope that, maybe, it wouldn’t be too well guarded after all.
He tried to follow T’lark’s example by crouching low and moving as stealthily as possible. The N'Ptalini, of course, had the advantage of having been a 'freedom fighter' slash 'terrorist' for much of his life. But considering all his various shortcomings, Robert thought he wasn’t doing too badly.
They reached the outer wall, which was only about waist-high now, and climbed over it. Robert waited while T’lark scanned the inside of the ruins.
“There,” the warrior whispered, pointing towards a murky patch of darkness that looked exactly the same as all the other murky dark patches here to Robert.
Only when they crept closer did he notice that it was the opening to a set of stairs leading underground, roughly concealed by scorched boards. T’lark lifted some of the boards aside, trying to be as quiet as possible, and peered down. Alain stood next to him, looking just as alert, his eyes glowing with red fire. He had stopped pulling and instead had assumed a battle-ready crouch, low to the ground. He looked fearsome, now, and definitely not cute any longer. And he definitely looked as if he would behave a lot more sensibly in a fight than Robert.
With a soundless sigh, Robert unclipped Alain's leash.
“There is light down there.”
T’lark disappeared down the stairs, followed by Alain. Being left behind felt even creepier, so Robert took a deep breath and started the descent as well. It felt like he was being swallowed up by the earth, but that was surely just his imagination.
After a few steps down, he too could make out orange ahead of them. The stairs ended in a narrow corridor, which must once have been the cellar of the mansion. Parts of the ceiling had crumbled, but the debris had been moved to the sides. There were faintly glowing, orange crystals crusting over the walls in irregular patches, and they, however, looked like a new feature. And they definitely looked as sinister as Robert would have expected from a secret, demon traitor lair.
It was completely quiet. Like a grave, Robert thought with a shudder. It was entirely Thomar’s fault that he seemed to end up in this weird shit so often. Before the Duke of Aylian had purchased him, he had been a respectable pet, chained to a bed or kneeling at a master’s feet or getting fucked by party guests on the dinner table. And now, he was crawling through a proper dungeon of his own free will.
Before he could start wallowing in his misery, T’lark nudged him and pointed at a door to their left. The door was standing slightly ajar, and through the opening they could both get a glimpse of the room beyond. It had probably been some storage space. Now, it was occupied by the largest demon Robert had ever seen – a huge, hulking monstrosity of hardened scales and horns and claws, coloured a dull green. And it was lying on its back, apparently asleep.
Robert felt transfixed by the sight. He was sure the moment he moved or breathed, it would wake up, rip him to shreds, and devour him. It took T’lark grabbing his arm and dragging him along to make him pass the doorway.
This was the moment when they should pull back to come back later with help. Lots of help. He really should tell T'lark so. But that would have required speaking and the monster might have heard him. And Alain was already ahead of them, slowly, carefully pushing open the door at the end of the corridor with his nose. He peered inside and started excitedly wagging his tail.
T’lark and Robert quickly caught up to him and looked into the large, circular room behind the door. A few more steps led down to the floor which was inlaid with a faded mosaic. The ceiling rose to a small dome which once must have been painted with extensive murals. Now, most of the plaster had fallen off and there were only a few patches left, depicting flames and demons and robed figures. In the middle of the floor, stood what could only be called an altar made of one big slab of black stone.
The floor was covered with traces of the glowing, orange crystals which massed at the back of the room, rising into a huge column. A huge column inside which a dark, human figure was trapped.
“What is this place?” T’lark whispered, now sounding creeped out as well, but Robert hardly heard a word.
He was already sneaking across the room as swiftly as possible, together with his demonhound, towards the column. Guardian demon, who cared about those. Close up to it, there could be no doubt that the person inside the crystal was Thomar, naked and frozen motionless. Alain sniffed at the crystal and looked up at Robert with a small whine and hopeful eyes. It was impossible to tell whether Thomar was alive or dead in there, and Robert felt panic close up his throat.
He wanted to scream and hit his master’s prison with his bare fists, but instead, he pressed his hand to his mouth to keep all sounds inside.
“Fuck it!” T’lark cursed softly once he had caught up. “What have they done to him?”
“We have to get him out of that!” Robert blurted out and instantly looked back at the entrance, expecting to find the demon monster breathing down his neck.
T’lark circled around the crystal, looking at it from all angles. “I have no idea what this thing does.”
Robert shrugged. How was he to know? He was a pet, for fuck’s sake. Not some hero. Not some mystic archmage in disguise. He knew about what to wear for which occasion, about blowjobs, about keeping still and keeping his mouth shut.
“I guess we could try to break it,” T’lark mused, more to himself than to Robert. He hesitantly reached out to touch the crystal but thought better of it, and stared at it intently as if that would force it to give up its secrets.
T'lark had no clue what to do, did he? And of the two of them, he was the hero. If even he didn't have any idea, what was Robert supposed to know? He wasn't –
An angry roar shook the entire room. They turned around and, this time, the guarding demon was indeed awake and squeezing through the door into the room. Its eyes gleamed with lots of fury and little intelligence, and it looked particularly enraged at their intrusion. Glaring at them, it opened its huge maw for another roar and gave them a spectacular view of rows upon rows of sharp teeth.
He was going to die now, ripped apart by that beast.
Alain didn’t suffer from such shock. The young demonhound answered the monster’s roar with a deep growl of his own, his fur fluffing up for a split second before he burst into white-hot flames. Without a moment’s hesitation, he charged the much larger opponent, launching himself into the air to swipe with burning paws at the beast’s visage. He managed to surprise it and left a trail of burned scratch marks, and landed safely to the left of the demon who now howled in fury and pain.
Right next to him, T’lark drew the blaster he carried on his hip and fired at the demon monster in one smooth move. When the shot barely blistered the thick scales of the beast, he cursed, grabbed Roberts arm and pressed the blaster into his hand.
“Get him out!” T’lark ordered harshly and pointed at the large crystal. Then he turned, drew his daggers, and ran towards the monstrous demon as well.
With quiet horror, Robert watched as Alain and T’lark circled the beast, trying to get in a cut or a nip. They were only making it more and more furious, only narrowly escaping its huge claws.
He wasn’t able to move. He had no idea what to do. It was worse than any nightmare and he was completely helpless.
Eventually, T’lark didn’t get out of the way quickly enough and the monster’s huge claw hit him, flinging him against the wall with a dull thud. The N'Ptalini crumbled to the ground in an unmoving pile.
Instantly, Robert rushed to his side, but then stopped and turned back to the crystal.
He had to get Thomar out. Thomar would know what to do. Thomar always knew what to do. Some voice in his head screeched that Thomar was probably dead and obviously didn’t know what to do, he was imprisoned in a block of crystal. But why listen to that idiot voice? This was the only thing that might save them, so it would be what he believed in.
Holding the blaster in both of his trembling hands, he aimed at the top of the crystal where he hopefully would not hit the figure encased within it. The gleaming shot inched through the air at an impossibly sluggish speed – only to explode upon impact with the loudest bang Robert had ever heard. He might have screamed.
For half a heartbeat, nothing really happened.
Then, the crystal started to crack and crumble into glistening shards and quickly collapsed fully, the prisoner inside dropping to the ground. Not dead or unconscious, but in a low crouch, hands and feet firmly on the floor, his head lowered. This time, Robert did rush forward, falling to his knees in front of his lover.
“Thomar?!”
He recoiled when the young man in front of him raised his head. It was Thomar, and not Thomar. Thick stripes of black N'Ptalini scutes started at his brow, running down his face, across his nose, crossing his mouth, down his throat and chest. His eyes were a glowing dull red without white or irises and his face was drawn into a furious snarl.
Thomar, or whatever he was, blinked in confusion.
“Robert?” he whispered hoarsely. His expression changed into a fierce smile, showing teeth as sharp as any N'Ptalini’s, “You ... came to find me...?”
He wasn’t sure how he knew, but there was no doubt in Robert’s mind that this truly was his lover, in all his weirdness.
He nodded, but before he could say a word, Thomar grabbed him by the back of his neck and drew him forward into a consuming kiss, sharp teeth nipping at his lips. It was so unexpected and misplaced and intoxicating that it made Robert’s head spin.
The world seemed to shudder when Thomar let go of him. Those eyes, those bottomless, red eyes.
“I love you.”
Thomar’s simple words seeped into his heart and washed away everything but the certainty that Thomar would never abandon him. And nothing else mattered when Thomar loved him.
A yelp of pain behind him reminded both of them of the guardian demon behind them. The beast had managed to rip into Alain with its claws. The demonhound was limping backward, crouching low to the ground.
Thomar rose and pushed Robert behind him. In each of his hands, a dagger appeared out of thin air, not the usual ones he had hidden in his boots, but longer, made of a dull, white material and covered in crawling black N'Ptalini runes.
Robert watched in horrified fascination as Thomar moved towards the demon with measured steps and no fear whatsoever. Thomar moved with the silent speed and efficiency of a trained killer as he jumped onto the altar in the middle of the room and from there onto the massive demon. The beast roared in rage as Thomar clung to its back and neck, screeched in intense pain as those daggers were both buried deeply in its neck, cutting through scales that had so easily withstood most of T’lark and Alain’s attacks. Its roar turned into a desperate howl as Thomar cut deeper and deeper, a flood of greenish blood gushing from the demon’s wounds. For a moment, it swayed, then tumbled and crashed. Nimble as a cat, Thomar jumped off its back just in time not to be buried underneath.
Silence spread across the room, neither Robert nor Thomar daring to move. A visible shudder ran through Thomar, and when he turned back to Robert, the markings on his body had disappeared along with the unfamiliar weapons. His eyes were back to their normal soft brown and when he smiled at Robert, he showed perfectly human teeth.
“What are you?” Robert whispered, for once sure that he wanted an answer.
Thomar pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes with a slightly embarrassed gesture that was so painfully familiar to Robert, he felt tears prick his eyes. He loved Thomar so much it hurt. No matter what he might be.
“I promise I'll explain. But not now.” His smile turned grim, almost bloodthirsty. “First, I have a fake duke to kill. Painfully so.”
***
“We’re going to need a new bed.”
With everything he had been through in the last few days, Robert wasn’t surprised anymore that the bloody mess in the ducal bed didn’t faze him at all. On the contrary, he had tremendously enjoyed watching Thomar taking care of its illicit occupants.
After Thomar had killed the guardian demon, they had first checked up on T’lark and Alain.
Robert had found Alain slowly limping towards him, obviously hurt but determined to get back to his master. He had praised the young demonhound for his valour in battle and checked him for serious wounds. When he found none, he sent Alain back into his amulet to sleep and heal.
T’lark was in worse shape. He was unconscious and after a quick examination, Thomar had determined that his right arm was broken in two places, his shoulder was dislocated, and he probably had a concussion, too, and maybe a few broken ribs, for good measure. Thomar set the shoulder, but the rest would have to wait for proper care.
They quickly searched the place for more demons and, more importantly, some clothes for Thomar. They didn’t find any demons, but in the antechamber where the monster had been sleeping, they found Thomar’s discarded clothes minus his weapons.
Robert had still been numb with shock, but he did what he was told and the fact that Thomar occasionally stopped whatever he was doing to grab and fiercely kiss him gradually brought him back to reality. He didn't ask again what Thomar had turned into, but he did ask how he had ended up in the crystal.
Apparently, an official trading delegation of demons had given him the succubus as a gift. Her kiss to his hand must have been laced with some toxin which had knocked him out cold. When he had woken up, he had already been imprisoned in the crystal. A few hours later, a demon with his exact looks had shown up and the demons had started a ritual to steal his memories. But they only managed to acquire surface thoughts and a rough outline, any deeper thoughts and memories and, most importantly details, had remained safely locked in Thomar's mind. He had helplessly listened to the demons discussing how they might break his mental shields while the imposter returned to the palace. Over the following week, they had tried again and again, without much success.
Robert found the thought that Thomar had been conscious the entire time horrifying and said as much. Thomar hugged him tightly but didn't comment.
They had only been separated for a week, but it felt so much longer. Much too long. Robert couldn't stop looking at Thomar constantly to reassure himself that he was there in all his infuriating self-confidence and mysteriousness.
Together, they managed to haul the unconscious T'lark back to the glider and Thomar piloted them back to the capital.
Creeping back into the ducal palace like thieves didn't even register on Robert's mental 'strange metre' anymore. It was late night but Thomar didn't take any chances. To get in, they used the secret passageway Robert had first been introduced to when they had gone to that disco in town. That episode seemed like a lifetime ago to Robert. The dumb pet he had been back then didn’t exist anymore. They might share a lot of memories but Robert looked at them from a very different angle than that pet had done.
The ducal suite lay quiet and dark, the only sound soft snoring from the bed. The first thing Thomar did was to firmly tell the N'Ptalini standing guard in the corridor outside not to come in, whatever they might hear.
Next, he had stalked into the bedroom, again with those strange white daggers in his hands. Robert followed him, stopping in the doorway. He needed to see the end of this nightmare to be fully convinced that it was truly over, no matter how bloody it might turn out.
So he watched in silence as Thomar crept up to the bed where his mirror image slept, entwined with the voluptuous, succubus pet.
He had barely a moment to wonder if the succubus would cast the spell of her beauty on his real master now when Thomar leaned over her. A moment to feel a hint of panic. Next, his amazing, ruthless, brutal master firmly grabbed her hair and cut her throat. She had barely time for a surprised, ugly gurgling noise before she died.
But it was enough to wake the demon masquerading as the Duke, though not enough to wake him sufficiently quickly. Before he was able to do much of anything, the real Duke had already straddled him, pinning him to the bed with both daggers crossed over his throat.
Robert felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine as Thomar leaned down and licked the cheek of the helpless man who looked just like himself. This was decidedly sexy. He loved to see his master dominate the bastard who had caused both of them so much anguish.
For the fake duke there was no quick death. There were questions and, when answers failed to come quickly enough, there was pain. Lots of exquisite pain. There was screaming and pleading, and everything Thomar wanted to know about the plot hatched against him. There was more screaming and pleading as Thomar extracted first apologies to Robert and then bloody revenge.
When the demon finally died, Robert felt that he had suffered sufficiently. He had never considered himself the vindictive type, but the display of merciless cruelty on his behalf had been most satisfying.
Even if it had ruined their bed. He didn’t want to keep it anyway, considering that the succubus slut and the fake duke must have fucked in it a lot.
“Yeah, I agree. A new bed might be a good idea.”
Thomar climbed off the killing field and wiped some of the blood off his face with a sleeve. “Can you fix me a drink?” he asked, all business and Quetzal ruler now. “I need to order some arrests and get my planet back under control.”
Robert nodded, but didn’t let him pass through the doorway. Instead, he grabbed Thomar by the back of his neck and kissed him, passionately.
“I love you, too.”
He had wanted to say that for a long time. Thomar grinned at him like a predator, only his hunger was more of the carnal kind. It was some sort of promise, one that Robert fully intended to hold his master to later tonight.
Thomar called the guards inside, had the bed and the corpses on it removed, gave orders to arrest the participants in the plot against him, and had F’leer put under house arrest until it could be determined if the influence of the succubus had been cleared from his mind by her death or if he needed some sort of therapy.
Robert fixed him a drink but didn't stop there. He also ordered some food, since Thomar had to be starving after being imprisoned in that crystal. While he was on it, he commandeered some servants to go fetch T’lark from the glider where they had left him and take him to the palace’s infirmary.
At some point in the past, he would have considered it unbefitting for a pet to take such an active role. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. His friend was hurt and he’d see to it that T’lark was taken proper care of. He had no problem whatsoever yelling at startled and barely awake medical personnel to move their asses.
He only left T'lark to them once they had reassured him that it was only a minor concussion, that his arm had been set and that he would receive their utmost care.
Back in the ducal quarters, the bustle of guards and courtiers had subsided. Now, there were only the two guards at the door who greeted him with a smile, apparently as happy as himself about things going back to normal. Inside, he found the suite dark except for the red glow of the recently lit fireplace. A large mattress had been placed in front of it, topped with a nest of blankets and pillows.
Thomar sat in the middle of that nest, wrapped in a blanket, contemplating the flames. He looked up when Robert entered and smiled.
“How is T’lark?”
“Asleep.” Calmly, Robert settled next to Thomar. “They put him under so he can heal.”
“Good.” Thomar shifted closer, but not quite close enough to touch.
He seemed to be looking for words, and Robert gave him all the time he needed. Whatever he was about to say, he should do it in his own time.
“I was seven years old when I first met a strange N'Ptalini boy playing in the mountains,” Thomar finally started, “At the time, I loved to go off on my own. I felt welcome with the N'Ptalini, but I always knew that I wasn’t one of them. That boy and I, we met often and we played together. We went to the most amazing places. He showed me things you can’t imagine. He was my secret, and he liked that. Of course, I realised that he wasn’t really a N'Ptalini, but I didn’t question him. He was too much fun. As I grew up, he grew up with me and one day, he revealed his true nature. Or at least, parts of it. He told me he was one of the gods revered by the N'Ptalini, they call him the god of masks and to them he has a thousand names and none. He explained that he had chosen me. The gods sometimes do this, they choose a child to be their foothold in the mortal world. Normally, such children are known and held in highest regard. But he is a god of mystery and secrets, so I was his secret as much as he was mine. He gave me many blessings, and in return, he gets to experience the world through my life. A shard of him is me.”
Robert listened to the calm words, surprised at his lack of surprise and fear. So, his master was some kind of blessed child of an alien deity. It explained all the things he had never understood about Thomar, and, if anything, he felt deeply reassured and honoured that he would share these things with him.
“That face on me that you saw tonight”, Thomar continued, “the one with the red eyes? That was a mask he gave me long ago. One of his blessings.”
He leaned a little closer, resting his head against Robert’s shoulder. “The last time I saw him was when they came to take me back to become the duke. He was delighted at the prospect of me returning to human society. I hated it so much. He told me he might come visit, but he never has. Just, I sometimes feel his eyes on me. I wanted to run away, I wanted to be free of all this,” he vaguely gestured at the room around them, “I wanted to be with him again, seeing all these absurd things, visiting impossible places.”
Robert shuddered at the thought, even though he could quite well understand how Thomar would miss these adventures.
“But I had sworn an oath of fealty to the Emperor that I would care for this planet”, Thomar continued, ”I feared that weight would crush me. I was all alone. So, I decided I needed a distraction. If I couldn’t go where I pleased, I would have to bring everywhere home to me. I looked for a pet that had been everywhere, that had seen everything. I didn’t find that, but you came close enough.”
A startled laugh escaped Robert at this unexpected explanation and Thomar mirrored it. “And you were a real bargain, too,” he added with a grin in his voice, “The shipping costs were horrendous though.”
There was a time when mentioning that he had been dirt cheap would have hurt him deeply, but now it was simply funny.
“You turned out to be much more than I had expected,” Thomar added softly, “I was hoping for a little distraction and got someone who loved me. Someone who didn’t flinch when I put on another mask. Someone I could show any face to and who would know that all of them were me. Someone I could share my life with.”
The way he said it sounded much bigger than Robert had ever thought it was, but it was all true. It also reminded him of another question he needed to ask and had postponed again and again.
“When you told your mother that I was your nar'sini, did you mean that?”
“Yes.”
As simple as that. All of Robert’s endless agonizing over possible implications and, as always, Thomar cut through them with one word.
“You know what I thought about while I was stuck in that blasted crystal? I thought about you. What they might do to you. If they had hurt you, killed you, sold you. I spent that whole time hoping I would get a chance to punish them for whatever they might have done to you.”
There were a million polite things Robert could have replied, but this was a night for simple truths. “I like that thought. A lot.”
Again Thomar laughed, a tiny, evil laugh, the sound delighting Robert as it was so much the man he loved.
“I love you,” Thomar said, mirroring Robert’s thoughts, “You make all of this worth it.”