In the Shadow of the Spider Queen (13-20/1) + Aftermath

The blood washing off his dark skin dyed the water of the bath red. It made it look like he was sitting in a tub full of gore. Fitting, really, after everything that had happened that day.

The cold air in Imryll’s large chambers and the hot water that filled up to his chest made for a heady combination. With no one to talk to, he drank whisky straight from the bottle and traced the freshly-healed scars on his lower abdomen and back with his fingers. He stared at the Mark of the Spider Queen branded upon his left arm, too, now disfigured, by the grace of its creator. Not beyond recognition — it was still possible to make out the shape of the skull and the spider legs protruding out of it, so the message would be clear.

A permanent mark on his body to remind him of his dishonour, and ensure that he could never go home, face his family, and survive.

He took several more gulps of whisky. He hoped in vain that it could fill the gnawing void inside of him.

It was quiet in the room, besides the faint harp music playing from the angel’s trumpets flowers in the sitting area behind the ivy screens. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting in the bath for, but the water remained as hot as when he started. There was a soft clink, the sound of a glass being placed on the edge of the copper bath, and he turned his head around to see Imryll sitting there, stroking his hair.

“Welcome home… I expected you to be gone much longer, dear.”

He regarded her with tired eyes, longing for her affection. “Lady Imryll…”

“It looks as though I should be happy you’re alive, Lord Jaezred. What exactly did you get up to down there?”

He lifted his left arm up. “I have disgraced myself, my lady.”

“Well, I’ve no doubt you’ve done that before, my love, but let me be the judge of that here,” she said, running a hand over the mark. Despite the usual barb thrown in, her voice was gentle and caring. “Tell me.”

Jaezred closed his eyes and sighed.

“We went down into the tunnels. Lady Oziah was sulking the entire time. We found a ruined campsite, clearly the site of a recent battle, and were attacked by two of the assassins from Margotin’s vision, the archer and the mage. I offered to help them find the priestess but they refused to stand down — I found out after killing them that there was a competition amongst her Favoured for this priestess’s life. Typical of the Spider Queen, pitting us against each other to see which amongst us is the strongest.”

“Hardly surprising in her cruelty…”

“At that point, I had to reveal the true purpose of my being there. The halfling cleric was disturbed by all that had happened and they considered leaving. I was going to allow it, even though they’d taken the initial payment from Margotin; it was better to have people committed to the job than not… However, they communed with Tymora instead, and”—he frowned a little—“I know not what was said, but whatever the reason, they chose to go on with us.” He paused to take a sip from the glass before continuing. “Miss Delilah led us further in. We found this-this thing… It looked like some kind of living membrane, but was in actuality a door to a distant world. Through there was the Demonweb Pits, Lolth’s own domain, somewhere on the edges of it. I was…caught off-guard. I have heard the stories of her spiriting her Chosen away to that place to be tested, but I wouldn’t have expected my quarry to be there.”

Imryll looked surprised at the mention of the Pits. It was an Underdark expedition — naturally, the 66th layer of the Abyss was not in the itinerary. “Quarry? You make it sound like you had settled on slaying the priestess. Had you?” she asked.

“I had to, didn’t I? And I couldn’t say or think otherwise, for she was always watching.”

She conceded the point with a slight raise of her eyebrows. “True… I don’t suppose it would have done to announce otherwise. So? You found her in the Pits. Is this her blood?”

He sighed again before continuing the story. “There was a ruined moon temple suspended in the webs before us. A relic from another world, a world Lolth consumed and left behind ages ago. We went inside and there she was, the priestess Balpassa, with a small entourage of male drow she was ‘saving’. The men were wary of me, ready to fight, but Balpassa…spoke to me gently, and unafraid. She said she’d been expecting me. She reached out a hand to me and…”

Jaezred pinched the bridge of his nose, stopping to steady his breath and think. Imryll silently laid a hand on his bare shoulder. The glow of the silvery mist that hung in the air highlighted the lock of copper in her hair. It appeared there was a little more of it than usual.

“I don’t know. Time stopped, I think. It was like seeing a vision. Eilistraee stood before me in Balpassa’s place, reaching out her hand to me, waiting for me to take it. But then she crawled up behind me. Lolth, the Spider Queen… I had never seen her before, not in this way, never so real. She looked just like Eilistraee, as beautiful as she, except older, and she had a spider’s body from the waist below, of course. She too reached out a hand to me, but in her hand there was a poisoned dagger. She praised me for being the last one standing, for passing her test, and now… I needed only to take the dagger and finish the job. I asked why, why was she so intent on killing this one apostate? She would not hear me out, she would only command.”

Imryll’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, seeming to note something in what he said, but said nothing about it. Her hand stroked his arm, soothing his muscles in its odd firmness. “You had another vision? In the Pits, it’s not surprising she would be so…prominent…”

“I knew the vision Lolth gave me months ago was now coming true. It was a premonition of what was to come, and an order,” he said. “I don’t know what possessed me, but I turned around and reached for the dagger, and…and… I looked her in the eye and told her no.”

After the words came out of his mouth, his immediate thought was that was not an entirely accurate portrait of the situation. It was not purely impulse that drove his decision. In that moment, he made a calculated gamble, for he already knew Balpassa’s capabilities from a past conversation with Margotin, and he knew he could count on his companions. Nonetheless, he continued.

“I willed the dagger to turn to dust in my hand and it did. In doing so, I shunned my destiny and all that I’d ever fought for. She screamed in rage, and… I remember nothing of it. Only pain. But they tell me I was turned into a monster, the one you call a drider. And I nearly killed Delilah and Oziah.” He lifted a hand through the water of the bath, crimson liquid flowing off his palm. “This is my blood. Not hers.”

Imryll took the hand and held it in her own, her skin radiating warmth that he could feel in spite of the hot water. “But you didn’t, and you are here now. You are home with me… You are not a monster, Jaezred.” She leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead, and it was then when he noticed that her green-tinted blonde hair was starting to take on more reds and coppers. “The others…stopped you? What happened after, did they tell you?”

He nodded absently. He thought he should be thankful that he could not remember the moment of his worst fear coming true, but no. The darkness where the memory ought to be offered him no comfort whatsoever. “A little. They say Oziah struck me down again and again, and each time I would get back up. But the priestess transformed me back into myself. When I woke up, I had been stripped of my sorcerous talents, and the mark on my arm now looks like this. Then we left the temple. We couldn’t linger — there was a yochlol in there with us, it was only a matter of time until Lolth found us again. The membrane we came in from was gone, and thus we trawled through the Pits for another way back, passing so many discarded remains of forgotten worlds on the way… How many has she destroyed and consumed in her hunger?” He shook his head. “Anyway, we found our way back to the Material Plane. One of the male drow teleported us to the Dawnlands, and the party dissolved there. The drow scattered to the winds, Balpassa stayed behind to perform some ceremony for one of them, and we carried on to the Witching Court. And now, here I am.”

Jaezred looked down and, for a fraction of a second, he saw a face reflected in the rippling, red waters: one that looked just like his own, except it had cold, malicious eyes, sharpened teeth, and an unhinged lower jaw with long, portruding, black fangs. As he blinked, the ripples died down, the water surface went still again, and it showed the usual sight of his face.

“I see… I suppose Margo must be pleased you chose not to kill his sister, but I also assume that is of little concern for you right now.” She gently laid a palm over the mangled scar on his arm as she spoke. “But you are home now, my love, and you are safe. It sounds like a truly terrible thing you have been through, but you have lived. You are here, with me… And you are not a monster—”

As if there was a faint wind blowing in the room, Imryll’s hair ruffled and the coppers finally flushed through the rest of her hair, her skin transforming from the fresh and youthful green of spring to the warm, soothing, orange glow of autumn. Her presence now radiated an aura of calm that permeated their surroundings and put Jaezred’s inner turmoil to rest.

“—and you should not bear the mark of one anymore.”

The warmth of her touch pulsed as she slid her hand along his arm down to entwine her fingers with his, and the spot on his skin where the brand should be was now bare. The disfigurement on his body had been healed, the spider’s mark now nothing but a dark memory.

He glanced up at her in surprise and, for the first time in the day, smiled. “I would never have dreamt of seeing this,” he murmured. “I mean, you, in autumn? In a giving mood? Unimaginable.”

“I’ve been known to have my moments.” She flashed her trademark smirk at him, strangely recognisable yet somehow completely different in this form.

Jaezred chuckled and pulled her into a passionate kiss, kissing her as if he hadn’t touched her in months. She leaned into it, almost falling into the blood-filled bath had he not caught her in time. They shared a giggle as she rebalanced herself on the edge of the tub.

He stepped out of the bath and towelled himself off. Acting on muscle memory, he performed the somatic component of prestidigitation to dry his hair, but, of course, nothing happened. He let out a huff of frustration. She chuckled and obliged him by casting the cantrip herself.

“Well, that does neatly bring us round to: what is next, my love? Have you had time to think about what you would like to do now?”

“Sleep.”

She smiled a loving smile, accentuated in orange. “Then let’s do exactly that.”

He beamed back at her. “Despite how it may look, dearest, I do not mourn the loss of my magic. Lolth, she offered me more power in exchange for killing Balpassa, and I suppose even after all these years, she still does not know me. I don’t care about power. What I do mourn is the loss of my home, my family.” His expression was darkened by the shadow of sorrow once more. “It is a deep and abiding pain to know that I could never see either of them again, that I will not be buried in the same tomb as my ancestors before me when my time comes. That is what she really took from me, not some power I didn’t deserve in the first place.”

Flecks of gold scintillated in her copper hair for a brief moment — her summer form, showing through a tiny bit. For a second, Jaezred thought he had said something wrong before he realised she wasn’t angry at him, but rather for him. “Deserving is an odd thing to consider. Did you deserve that power? Did you deserve the abuse that came with it? She is cruel, Jaezred… And the real strength you have shown is the decision to be free of her tyranny. That ‘power’ and her malice was thrown upon you with little choice beyond fall in line or perish.”

Her voice softened as she carried on, “As for your family… It is sad to think of things in such a way, and I know you care for your cousin. I cannot promise you will ever be able to return there and be welcomed, my love. But I will say, I was not given the impression that it was ever going to be an option, in any case… On the other hand, you are free to do as you wish now, without fear of punishment. Many have died trying to get that simple thing, especially from Lolth, my love.”

He’d never had anyone be angry on his behalf before. Once upon a time, she would have kept her composure and answered coolly; perhaps she thought the time for hiding her feelings in front of him had finally passed, and something fluttered in his stomach at the sight of her caring so much for him. He stroked her soft cheek lightly with his fingers. “Well… I suppose if I do not belong to her any longer, I am free to be yours and yours alone.”

She chuckled. “Still clueless, I see. You are free to be your own, darling… Though, of course, I will be taking what I can,” she added with a wink.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked as he took her by the hand and led her towards the bed.

---

The next morning, Jaezred awoke early, got dressed in his usual long-sleeved shirt, waistcoat, and slacks, and began to search Imryll’s bookshelves. He levitated himself up and down, pulled himself along the shelves, carefully scanning the spines of the truly prodigious collection of books in the room.

There were books, journals, and manuscripts on an extremely wide range of topics, but none of them was what he was looking for. He even found a tome with the complete family trees of obscure noble houses; House Vandree of Menzoberranzan, obscure and weak once upon a time, was briefly mentioned, yet no official family tree was recorded — he resolved to fix that later.

Whilst picking up the tome on noble families, along with a book of cocktail recipes and Uncommon Uses for Common Cantrips, he noticed Imryll, back in her spring form but still in her sleeping robe, seated by the fire and watching him with mild amusement.

“Oh, good morning, dearest,” he said, floating gently down to the floor with the books in one arm. “Go back to bed, I’ll be there with breakfast shortly.”

A big smile flashed across her face and she playfully ran back to bed. Half an hour later, he returned as promised with a large, scrumptious plate of scrambled eggs, spiced pork and herb sausages, bacon, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, baked beans, and buttered toast, accompanied with a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice. Imryll let out an adorable, delighted squeal, as he had come to expect from her now whenever he served her breakfast in bed, and something he knew only he was privy to. That made it even more endearing somehow. He grinned and kissed her on the forehead before sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her, and stacking the books he’d picked up on the mattress.

Midway through breakfast, she nodded at the books. “Thinking of a career change, dearest? You certainly have the temperament to be a moody librarian.”

“As fun as quiet trysts in the library would be, I was just marvelling at how big of a nerd you are.”

“Information is a weapon in my field of work, remember?” she said, laughing it off.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, dearest,” he teased her. “Well, alright, no. I was looking for books on wizardry. I thought it’d be good to get right back into it — I used to be an evoker before… Well, before everything happened.”

“Ah…”

“I was thinking last night about you leaving your family behind in order to protect them. I…I may not be interested in power, but I wouldn’t like to be helpless either, and most of all, I don’t want to be a burden to you, Imryll. Just an annoyance.” He smiled at her.

“Well, powers or no, you certainly can be an annoyance… But do you think you have the patience for learning magic that way again? It takes most people years and, well, with your slow thinking, it could be centuries.” The wicked smirk was back in play, but she did seem to be considering his options at the same time.

“I admit, I was never very good at wizardry. That’s partly why my family considered me worthless.” He held up the cocktail recipes book. “I’m much better at this.”

“Well, food and drink I can vouch for you on, at least. Still, not wholly reliable in terms of defending yourself, dear, especially if you plan on keeping up this adventuring game. Most of the time, anyway.”

“I’m aware, that’s why I’m looking into wizardry again. It shouldn’t take me too long to pick up the basics again, and see where I go from there. For starters, though, I should actually go get some textbooks on the matter…”

“Well, I did tell you before, I don’t have the junior encyclopaedia of magic available,” she laughed. “Have you considered other options, though?”

He raised a brow. “Other options such as what? Minstrelsy? You want me to have a go at the lute or the harpsichord?”

“With your voice? Gods, no. Some sort of performing clown maybe, though? That could work… No, I meant your swordsmanship, dear, or do you just carry that rapier as a statement piece?”

“Why, I’m glad you asked. Yes,” he said as he stole a sausage from her plate. She pretended to look shocked and pouted, turning her body slightly away from him to defend her food and quickly taking another bite.

“You know, there are other options still… I know it’s probably not your first choice, but you could see if someone else might grant you their power? Not so much in a forced manner as with Lolth, of course, but some kind of arrangement. I know Xantha would be keen to get her grubby mitts onto you.” She cackled a little and forked the last sausage before he could take that one too. However, whilst she was busy biting down on the sausage, a slice of bacon was spirited away from the plate and into Jaezred’s mouth. A look flashed across her face, acknowledging the declaration of war that had just been laid down.

“So… A warlock,” said Jaezred, munching on the bacon thoughtfully.

“I’m sure she would call you something much more derogatory, of course.”

He picked up the glass of orange juice meant for her and drank it to wash the bacon down. She casted prestidigitation on it to make the liquid uncomfortably warm. “Oh, come now!” he whined, protesting against her scorched earth tactics, and got a rogue bit of egg flicked at him in response.

“But how would this be different from what I had with Lolth?” he wondered aloud, putting the glass back down on the nightstand. “I trade one mistress for another, step out of the shadow of the Spider Queen and into…the misshapen shadow of Xantha Addington?”

“Well, for starters, I would suggest a better choice than Xantha… Unless you want to be her little performing monkey like Urisalor?”

“Who do you have in mind?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Margotin,” Imryll said with a straight face. “He really is very busy and could probably use someone to man the mop now and then.”

”Very funny.”

As they were having this exchange, his hand sneakily crept forward and snatched a piece of toast from her plate. She feigned offence, but he suspected she was letting him have it.

“But you are talking about…Queen Nicnevin?” He tried to feed the toast to her, but she dodged the incoming bread.

“Well, it’s worth considering. Not that it guarantees she will even want to, of course. But otherwise, there are plenty of witches here who would probably want a sla— I mean, warlock to fawn over them.”

“Like you?” he ventured.

“Oh my love, I’m afraid I don’t think you’d be able to live up to my demands.” She winked. “But no, loaning power is not exactly my style at the moment. I deal in favours and information, not patrons. Besides…you already fawn over me!”

“I did not put up with you for this long only to be told that I cannot live up to your demands,” he protested teasingly. Nonetheless, he was beginning to really think about it. “She would ask for something in return, wouldn’t she? And the price would be steep. Thus, again, how would this be different?” A crease formed in his brow and he put the toast back down on her plate, having suddenly lost his appetite.

She picked up the toast with a little wave of her hand and happily took a bite. “Yes, but that is the nature of the exchange, dear. The difference will be, it is an exchange you have chosen, not been forced into… I’ve told you before, you have a choice in these matters.”

He stared down at the now-smooth skin of his left arm where the Mark of the Spider Queen used to be, hesitating. “I…I don’t know.”

“Well, the choice is yours, Jaezred. No one can take that from you now,” she said, feeding him the rest of the toast. He obliged, eating and thinking.

There was much to consider. It was not as if he did not have the years to spend re-learning wizardry or honing his swordsmanship, but was that truly what he wanted? He was never terribly comfortable being a wizard, and he felt lukewarm about the martial arts, only using those skills when he absolutely needed to. And what were his alternatives? Divine magic was out of the question — it’d be good to take a break from gods and religion, he thought — and he would rather die than become a bard.

Some time ago, he vowed never to make bargains with the fey, knowing well how they trick their way into getting what they want or simply for the joy of tormenting mortals. But he could never have foreseen that he would fall head over heels for a fey elf. She turned his world upside-down, and he couldn’t be happier for it. For the first time in decades, he felt hopeful.

So maybe…just maybe…the fey aren’t so bad.

Such a hypocrite, he thought to himself.

“Perhaps…I could speak to the Queen, and see what she says first.“

“If you can see her, of course… Just consider it for now. I’m sure she is already aware of your situation.”

“Would it mean that I'd have to stay here forever? Like Kassidy was made to?”

Imryll let out a short laugh. “Kassidy is not here forever, my love. The terms of her deal was that she is required to help the Court for a time. Once that time is up, she is free to leave whenever she wants and be free of her curse. But I see your point. Most of the witches in the Court you can try to bargain with, but the Moonweaver sets her terms… You would need to see what she asks in payment when the time comes. Though, of everyone here, I would hazard a guess she may be your best choice. Besides…would it really be so bad, being stuck here with me?”

Jaezred looked back at her and a warm smile spread across his face. “I have no home now. But whenever I’m with you, I feel like I am at home.”

“Home is where the heart is… Or whatever nonsense it is they try to sell gullible tourists. I can for sure tell you the heart is either in your chest or conveniently stored in a safe box where no one can get to it. But I’m glad you feel at home here, darling,” she said with a sweet smile.

“Don’t be silly. I have no heart, it is well-known.”

“Ah well, it really is a marvel you feel at home then!”

He pecked a kiss on her forehead. “Very well. If you could schedule an audience with the Witch-Queen for me…?”

“I shall ask for you.”

“You make a great secretary.”

She casted a dark look at him, one that reminded him that this secretary knew which bottles contained alcohol and which ones contained the poison. Most of the time, anyway.

“I jest, I jest!” He held up his palms in mock-surrender, then took her hand and kissed it on the knuckles. “I love you, dearest.”

She smiled and winked before hopping off the bed to make what he hoped was a drink.

However, as she walked away, Jaezred felt something. An odd heat, an intense vibration within his body. Alarmed, he instinctively casted the detect magic spell innate to him and…found that something on his person was causing it. Something in the pocket of his trousers. He reached inside and pulled out a copper ring — the one Margotin gave to him before they set off on the expedition as a “good luck charm”. He had forgotten to give it back to the butler, but he was sure he left it in his reconnaissance clothes, so how did it get h—

There was no time to think. His surroundings changed completely in a flash. Now he was standing in the vast, vaulted ritual chamber in the heart of the Mountain Palace. The octagonal-shaped room was lit with a pale but bright light from a massive quartz gem jutting out of the ceiling, reflecting and amplifying moonlight from the outside and casting intricate geometric patterns on the dark stone walls and floor. But everything looked a little faded, and from prior experience, he could tell this was some kind of vision.

Queen Nicnevin, the Moonweaver, the Lady of Copper and Crystal, stood before him — statuesque in her giant posture, copper curls cascading around her as her eyes, the colour of moss beds, devoid of pupils or irises, bored into him.

“Lord Jaezred,” she said with the slightest nod of her head. “You seem less than when I last saw you.”

As his shock faded away, he stood up straighter and met the giantess’s gaze directly. He did not bow. “Queen Nicnevin.”

“My time is short, Lord Jaezred, but you have helped my court so I shall grant you your audience. What is it you seek?”

“Your Majesty… Doubtlessly, you know of my situation. I…am seeking new sources of magic, and am open to the idea of patronage, if we are able to discuss the terms.” He hesitated for a second before adding, “But I pray Your Majesty does not think that I do this in search of the power and prestige that I have lost. I’m doing this for myself and for Lady Imryll.”

Her strange eyes narrowed slightly. “And how do you envision such patronage aiding you and the Lady Imryll?”

“I wish to be able to fend for myself, so as to not be a burden to my beloved.”

She stared into him for several, long moments, almost like she was reading inside his very being and weighing it up against the words he had just said. It came close to unnerving him, but he had already survived his worst nightmare, and thus had nothing to fear. And she was aware of that.

“You tread a life of peril, Lord Jaezred, one which many have tried and already paid their lives for. But I have seen your resourcefulness already. My patronage would not be wasted on you, but — were I to gift you a portion of my power, it would be on my terms, which you know all too well are not open for discussion.”

This was consistent with what little he knew of the Queen — she made deals, but the terms of it were only revealed once it had been made. “Harsh but fair” was what he’d been hearing since he first met her a little over half a year ago.

He swallowed and maintained eye contact. “I understand. I simply would like to know what those terms are first before agreeing to anything, Moonweaver.”

“No,” was her simple reply.

He couldn’t say he did not try. Jaezred took a deep breath. “I see,” he said calmly. “I shall speak honestly. I do not understand why Imryll and Margotin are as devoted to Your Majesty as they are. I suspect it is because they feel they owe you something. In any case, I know for certain that you would not take much from me.”

“Neither are bound to me beyond their own desire to be, Lord Jaezred. You are free to ask them their reasons, but that does not answer the question at hand.”

“Then ask the question.”

An odd smirk crossed her face. “I believe you are asking something of me.”

He smirked right back at her cheekily. “You got me there.”

There was no avoiding it. It was now or never. He thought back on what he had witnessed with Kassidy the werewolf, the deal she made with Nicnevin to be freed from the curse of lycanthropy. She was contracted in service to the Witching Court as a guard and also given control over her curse — a sure improvement over not being able to control it at all. Using the condition she wanted to be rid of must not be enjoyable for her, but she would be rid of it eventually, and in the meantime, Nicnevin had a bolstered guard patrolling her borders. He thought back too to Karl Neverwoods, the clueless lord who asked to be made famous and immediately regretted making the deal afterwards. However, Karl’s objective was utterly self-serving and Nicnevin would have nothing to gain from granting his wish. And so she took something in return.

In short, a trade of some sort was inevitable, but the more value Nicnevin saw in someone, the less likely she would take something precious from them.

How much value did she see in him? His family thought him worthless, Lolth thought him pathetic — who was to say she would disagree?

However, there was one other factor: Imryll. Imryll trusted the Queen with her life; he still did not know why but he hoped that someday, she would be comfortable enough to tell him. And if the lock of copper braided in her hair was any indication, he would wager that Nicnevin cared for her protégé too, and therefore she was unlikely to do something that would upset her, such as torment her lover.

Still, the outcome looked uncertain to Jaezred. This was the second calculated gamble he had to make within 24 hours.

Well, let no one say that Jaezred Vandree was a coward.

“Witch-Queen. I beseech you to grant me your power, not for its own sake but for my health and my beloved's happiness, and in return I shall do whatever you ask of me.”

“As you wish.”

Nicnevin raised a hand, casting several small bones and gems up in the air that vanished into dust amidst blue flames, whilst the pale light from the giant crystal at the top of the ritual chamber began to glow a brilliant white, bathing Jaezred in a warm glow. A wind that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once burst into the chamber, rushing towards him and burrowing into him, spreading through every inch of his body like wildfire. His mouth ran dry, his fingers tingled as the dizzying rush felt like it was about to sweep him completely off his feet.

As suddenly as it came, it vanished with a resounding boom that echoed throughout the ritual chamber, and he was left almost shaking. The sudden surge of energy filled the void the Spider Queen left with something new. Above him, Nicnevin’s mossy eyes flash with power.

“The Pact is set! I shall lend you a portion of my power and in turn, you shall be my emissary — a hand with which you may extend my influence across the planes and a vessel through which I shall garner information. I shall not challenge nor punish you as your old goddess may have, Lord Jaezred, nor are you bound to stay at this court. But know, with clarity: when I call on your service, you shall answer.”

His chest heaved in and out with several deep breaths. He put a fist over his heart, knelt down on one knee, and bowed his head before the Queen of Witches.

“My Queen.”

As her words echoed in the chamber, Nicnevin began to fade from view, though the green glow of her eyes lingered for a moment longer, fixated on him. The ritual chamber faded away too, and in the blink of an eye, Jaezred was back in Imryll’s room. He slowly rose to his feet and saw his paramour staring at him quizzically, cocktail glasses in her hands.

He looked back at her for a second, then he reached out for that power within him as he used to do as a sorcerer. His hands moved in an almost automatic motion as he performed the somatic component of prestidigitation, picturing the outcome in his head, whispering the arcane incantation under his breath…

And sure enough, an array of colourful sparks shot off from his palms.

Imryll’s face was the very picture of surprise. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud in joy, and she laughed too. “How?!” she asked.

“I think she fast-tracked my request. I guess I am that special,” he answered with a smirk.

“That, or she just wanted to get the headache out the way.” Imryll returned the smirk and embraced him. He leaned in to kiss her, or would have had she not suddenly exclaimed, “Wait!”

He stopped and looked at her questioningly.

“You can still cook, right? That wasn’t the trade?”

The smirk on his lips turned positively devilish. “You have only one way to find out.”

She playfully sneered at him and finally gave him the kiss he was going for. He embraced her tightly, relishing the warmth of her body and softness of her lips — there was no feeling in the world better than this.

“By the way,” he said after pulling away, still grinning, “she gave me your job, you know. I suppose I can do it after all.“

“Please… We both know I am indispensable. But it will be fun having a flunky to boss around.”

He chuckled and rained kisses down her neck. “Well, are you ready for your first bit of information then? In all of this I’d nearly forgotten to tell you, but Miss Sorrel Darkfire does have a tiny, little crush on the Lady Oziah…”

There was a loud gasp as her jaw dropped. “Noooooooooooo! How will the lady tell those two apart!?”

Jaezred burst out laughing. “Your guess is as good as mine! But guess who was loudly calling Miss Delilah ‘the love of my LIFE’”—he imitated Oziah’s voice here, exaggerated with dramatic reading—“in the caverns, right in front of Miss Darkfire’s face?”

Imryll was practically dancing on the spot with excitement. “You are telling me everything, right now!”

“Oh, but Lady Imryll—” He waved a hand over his mouth and an illusory black mask appeared to cover the lower half of his face, and he imitated Delilah’s sultry inflection this time. “If I find you meddling in my horribly messy love life, you WILL regret it.”

“I regret nothing!”

He cackled and carried her off to the sofa.

---

Co-written with the incredible Anthony, author of this amazing arc, thank you so much.