I bristled, but I made myself take a sip of coffee before speaking. “You mean the list that has Kadir, Angus McDunn, Tessa, and Katashi’s people on it?”
Pellini’s gaze remained steady on me. “That’s the one.” Though he didn’t say it, I clearly heard the added Do you have a problem with that?
And my initial gut reaction was, Yes, I have a huge problem with lumping Mzatal in with confirmed assholes. But I forced myself past the knee-jerk loyalty to consider where Pellini was coming from. It wasn’t doubt in Mzatal, but a perfectly sensible caution where any of the lords were concerned. To Pellini, the lords were guilty until proven innocent, and he intended to remain alert and suspicious of everything they did. I couldn’t find it in myself to blame him, especially in light of how the plans and actions of the lords had fucked up Earth. In fact, I held the same attitude, except about Mzatal, of course. He’d already proven himself in my eyes.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Personal bias aside, it sounds reasonable to me.”
Pellini’s shoulders relaxed.
“But,” I added and hid a smile as he tensed again. “If Mzatal takes his shirt off anywhere on this planet, I want a priority rush on that footage to my inbox.”
Pellini let out a strangled laugh. “God almighty. I don’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified that you’re in charge of defending the planet.” Shaking his head, he retreated to the war room.
“I can save the world and enjoy sexy pics of my hot hunny!” I called after him.
“Earth is fucked,” he shouted back.
Still smiling, I returned my attention to the nexus in time to see Rhyzkahl pull himself to his feet and stagger around his circuit. My amusement drained away, and I took a long drink of coffee to cover my twinge of guilt that I’d enjoyed seeing him put in his place.
He collapsed to sit with his back against the grove tree, head lowered. My guilt gave way to sympathy. Mzatal hadn’t shown mercy with that blast. Then again, it was possible the blast had g
iven Rhyzkahl an attitude adjustment. And I had questions that he might only answer in a weakened state.
We didn’t have tunjen fruit on Earth to make the demon realm restorative drink, but I created the best equivalent possible with what I had available—a concoction of lemon, orange, and carrot juices. Glass in hand, I headed out back with my bribe.
Rhyzkahl didn’t lift his head as I stepped into the deep shade of the tree.
“Have you come to gloat?” he asked, voice ragged and face hidden by his hair.
“I’ve already done that,” I said. “But I’m trying to not be cruel. You let Amkir zap me back when I was at your palace, so I know how much it sucks. I’m sure a Mzatal lightning bolt is a hundred times worse.” I crouched and held out the glass. “Here, I brought you some juice.”
For an instant I thought he’d play the stubborn lord and refuse, but he finally lifted his head and took the juice with a trembling hand. “Mzatal proved himself to be a true chekkunden,” he said, then drained the glass.
My eyebrows lifted. “Because he slapped you down for being a dick?”
“For drawing you into his game.”
I gave a harsh laugh. “Are you kidding me? First off, there’s no game between us, and he hasn’t drawn me anywhere I wasn’t willing to go—though that’s probably impossible for your devious little mind to understand. And second, if he’s a chekkunden for loving me, empowering me, and treating me like an equal, what does that make you?” I cocked my head. “What’s the demon word for lying scheming treacherous back-stabbing asshole son-of-a-bitch motherfucking deceiver?”
“Qaztahl.”
“Give me a break. You expect me to buy that all the lords are shitstains like you? Seretis? Elofir?”
He leaned his head back against the white bark of the tree. “Believe what you will.”
“Certainly nothing you say.”
“You did not come to me simply to provide sustenance.” He tapped his finger against the empty glass. “What is it you want?”
“You’re right. Comforting you isn’t on the top of my to-do list.” The voice of the essence blade echoed in my mind. “Who is the vile oppressor?”
He flexed his scarred hand. “You will believe nothing I say.”
“Humor me. Who is the vile oppressor?”
Rhyzkahl regarded me with contempt. “You. Mzatal. It is difficult to choose which to name.”
I threw up my hands. “You’re a captive because of your actions.”