Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
He sighs, the sound almost silent. “I am offering a contract to every leader in this realm. A chance to have direct access to a single human for seven years. They will return to the respective territories and any children resulting in those potential unions will—”
“What?” My breath stills in my lungs. My people may have access to humans in their dreams, but the bargainers are the only ones who have physical contact with them. And the bargainer demons are jealous captors—or protective, depending on who you ask. Personally, I think it’s a combination of both.
Regardless, the result is that only the bargainers have been able to procreate with humans and bolster their territory’s magic. Through some quirk of evolution, when a human and a paranormal breed, the resulting child is exponentially more powerful. Here in this realm, each territory’s magic is only as strong as the territory’s leader’s. If that leader has recent human ancestry, they—and their territory—have a decided advantage over the others in this realm.
There was a time when travel between the realms was more common, and procreation between humans and other species was too, but after the realms separated, bloodlines made more magical by humans thinned through the years. Now they’re more memory for most territories than anything else. What Azazel promises will change everything. Possibly in catastrophic ways.
“Why would you do that?” I finally ask. “You have the market cornered on power right now. Why give that up?”
“The entire realm suffers because of the imbalance.” He shakes his head sharply. “My predecessor—and her predecessor—tried it that way, and we’ve seen dozens of wars as a result. Better that everyone stands on even ground. There will be a contract. No one will force the humans to do anything they don’t want to do. I’m not offering anything more than a chance at a better future.”
A chance is significantly more than we’ve been offered before. This may be a trap; if something seems too good to be true, then it usually is. I take a deep breath. “Why not tell me the same way as the others? I thought you had more respect for my people than your predecessor.”
“I do. I realize in hindsight that I mishandled this. I apologize.”
An apology. That’s something. I shove down my pride. “So why?”
“Because one of my candidates is . . .” He shifts almost nervously. I’ve never seen Azazel nervous once in our many years as leaders. He stills and meets my gaze steadily. “You have proven yourself to be a fair and considerate leader to your people. I don’t believe our values are dissimilar.”
I should probably do something to stop this strange reaching out he’s doing; nothing good comes of other territory leaders thinking they can anticipate your moves. But I don’t. Partially because I’m curious, and partially because he’s right. I’ve worked hard, sacrificed much, and committed unsavory acts to ensure my people don’t abuse their connections with dreaming humans. Historically, that wasn’t something our people worried about. Now it is. And we all prosper as a result.
“I’m listening.”
“You know what I’m offering and what it means to this realm, but the cost of any harm coming to the humans I’ve made a bargain with is devastatingly high. I’m concerned this human will not advocate for herself. She worries me.”
I don’t ask him why he made the bargain in the first place if that’s true. No doubt he had his reasons. Azazel is a ruthless bastard at times, but he’s got a soft heart when it comes to his humans. Whatever drove this human to make a bargain, it must have been bad enough for Azazel to override his hesitation. “Why not give her to Sol then? He’s so damned careful, he’s likely to spend the next seven years making polite small talk.” The dragon king isn’t a bad man, as such things go, but he’s dreadfully boring. Which means he’s safe.
“Like I said, I don’t think she’ll advocate for herself. Sol and the others might not realize there’s a problem until it’s too late and harm is done.” He leans forward. “You know humans, Rusalka. More, your powers can read her desires—and lack thereof. You won’t harm her or allow her to harm herself.”
Normally, I’d hate that he’s so sure of me, but he’s not wrong. This opportunity could shake our realm to the very foundations, but I haven’t fought this hard for my people to stop now. This human may be a trap waiting to be sprung. “Bram can read emotions as easily as I can.”
He gives me a severe look. “Bram doesn’t know what he wants.”
Azazel’s also not wrong about that. I shrug. “If you’re so worried about her, then why don’t you take her?”
“I have other priorities at the moment.”
I’m mostly arguing for the sake of arguing. I won’t do a single damned thing to endanger this offer. “Very well, I’ll take this human and care for her. But you must know that I will do my best to convince her to have a child to benefit my people.” The rest of the territories—Azazel excepting—don’t take us seriously. If there were to be a power imbalance with my people on the wrong side? No. I won’t allow it to happen.