“What are you doing?” Elora shouted. “You’re hurting him!” She stepped closer, but Bray stepped in her way.
“The demon will come if Otholo is threatened, it’s the only way.”
Elora flinched away from his touch as his hands came to rest on her arms. “Leave me alone!” she spat, feeling satisfaction at seeing hurt flick across Bray’s face.
Another thud followed by the chains suddenly rattling tight let her know that the Shadojak had struck Otholo again. Elora tried to push passed Bray, his hands again on her arms. She looked to her uncle for help, yet he, like Ragna, only watched.
Another thud, this time harder, the iron snapping tight as Otholo took the punch in the chest; Diagus striking expertly without remorse.
“No!” Elora screamed and shoved hard against Bray’s chest. She must have shoved harder than she thought because the Shaigun slammed into the wall, surprise raising his eyebrows as he took a moment to register what had happened, before springing back and grasping her arms. His green eyes ablaze with shock and fury.
“Enough, Elora,” he barked, his nose almost touching hers. She had an impulse to sink her teeth into it. Recognising the tide of anger rising, she forced herself to calm down.
“She’s right,” coughed Otholo, a trail of blood running from a split lip. “It’s not working. He knows you won’t kill me and is quite happy to let me get beaten up. Perhaps...” A grin stretched across his bruised face as he looked at Bray. “A kiss from the daughter of Chaos.”
“No!” said Bray, before Elora realised that Otholo meant her.
The Shadojak stared at his apprentice, raising a grey eyebrow before turning his attention back on the man in chains. “Will it work?”
“It might,” offered the Bard.
Diagus’s gaze fell back on her. It was her choice - just a simple kiss. It didn’t mean anything and although she wasn’t attracted to Otholo in any way, he had a certain charm about him and was pleasing to the eye.
“You don’t have to do this,” Bray whispered, so only she could hear.
Elora heard the urgency in his words, felt his fingers dig deeper into her arms. He was jealous, the emotion was written plain on his face and it made her feel better - he still cared.
“I want to,” she said, twisting out of his grasp and witnessing his jaw clench, his scowl deepening.
Diagus gave her room as she stepped closer to the bard, his miss-matched eyes following her advance and sparkling with delight.
Her lips touched Otholo’s for the briefest moment, light and warm before pulling away. Nothing happened.
“A bit of privacy please. At least step out of the room,” Otholo said. He pulled at the chains, showing how little movement he had. “It’s not like I can do her any harm, is it?”
Diagus ushered them into the corridor and closed the door behind them, Bray’s sullen face appearing at the bars, angry and hurt.
Elora glanced away, hiding the smile that she knew would give away her feelings, he was jealous.
Putting her hands on Otholo’s shoulders, she leaned close once again and planted another kiss on his mouth, then pulled back.
Otholo licked his lips. “The demon’s all about passion. Your kiss should be more alluring, more exciting. Perhaps if you kissed me like you would Bray.”
“How do I know you’re not just getting some perverted enjoyment from tricking me into kissing you.”
He grinned wickedly. “You don’t. I dare say I’ll enjoy it, you may do too, and you never know, it might work. Now pucker up Elora and kiss me like you mean it.”
Elora closed her eyes when she put her lips to his, remembering the kiss she’d had with Bray in the forest, his mouth - his lips. Otholo’s tongue darted between her teeth, hungry and wanting. She kissed him back, pushing her body against his, the clicking of chains as the bard’s body shifted reminding her of where she was.
This wouldn’t work, Elora realised as Otholo groaned, this wasn’t Bray. The kiss felt fake and dispassionate, yet it had some effect on the bard. A deep rumbling vibrated from his chest, his groan building, his kiss becoming harsh.
She broke away, stepping back from Otholo, who grinned at her like the proverbial cat that got the milk.
“Chaos shouldn’t taste so sweet,” he said, a deep rumble to his voice an entire octave below his usual tone. And he appeared different, no taller, no wider but somehow, he filled the cell. It was the demon.
Bray realised it too and opened the door about to re-enter the room. “Get out,” ordered the demon, eyes alight with violence as he stretched his body against his iron bonds.
Bray ignored him and came to stand beside Elora.
“Get out. Leave us, I’ll speak only to the Princess of Darkness” said the demon, stretching Otholo’s face into a menacing glare that looked wrong on the bard. The voice was harsh and full of hate, nothing like the sing-song camber of Otholo. It gave Elora goose bumps watching his body being used by another.
“It’s fine,” she said to Bray, ushering him back out. “He’s chained up; he can’t harm me.”
Bray glanced at the manacles and chains. It was clear the demon couldn’t break them, but he seemed dissatisfied as he stormed from the cell, slamming the door.
The next face to appear through the bars was the Shadojak’s.
“Ask him if he can take us across the Shadowlands, ask him if he still has the Necrolosis, ask...”
“Shut it Shadojak. I have my ship, but I’ll not be going back into the Shadowlands. Not unless my queen commands it,” said the demon, eyes boring into hers.
“I command it,” said Elora, unsure if she was saying the right thing and not understanding why he referred to her as his queen.
The demon laughed. “You’re the daughter of Chaos. I can feel it, see it, smell it on you - but you need to be awakened, need to have that black heart of yours pumping with the darkness you possess. Then you will be my queen and I your loyal servant. Not this girl before me.”
“Awakened?”
“You must die, daughter of Chaos,” he said, then without warning snapped the chain holding his left wrist, his hand shooting out and locking around her throat. His other hand twisted around the chain binding his other wrist.
