I struggled to work moisture into my mouth. I had the horrible feeling that I was about to burst into tears, which was really the last thing I needed to do when attempting to establish terms with a demonic lord. And, of course, the more I struggled to keep myself from thinking about crying, the more tears stung the backs of my eyelids.
“Yes, my lord. Wh-what manner of service would you have me offer you in exchange for your aid that would fulfill the bounds of honor?” Damn it, I was crying now. I could feel the treacherous tears snaking their way down my cheeks, and it took everything I had not to wipe them away.
“Stand up, Kara. Kneeling does not suit you.”
I got awkwardly to my feet and then went ahead and swiped at the tears with the back of my hand. Rhyzkahl turned away from me and took the two steps to his throne, seating himself in a languorous manner. “This matter is more complicated than you can know,” he said, looking thoughtful.
“Because of Ryan, right? He’s not just an FBI agent?”
He gave no indication of denial or affirmation. “It is a complex matter. It is not so simple for me to interfere.”
“Why?” I persisted. “Does someone want him dead? Is that why that kzak was pushed through the portal? To get him?”
His crystal-blue gaze speared me. “When did you encounter a kzak?”
“A week ago, I think. Was it after him?” Or me? I added silently.
His expression remained inscrutable. “I cannot answer that.”
I scowled. I was definitely over the wanting-to-cry part. Now I was into the annoyed-at-being-in-the-dark part. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Let us get back to the matter at hand, shall we?” he said. He stood and strode to me, then cupped my chin in his hand and tilted it up so he could look down into my face. “You wish to have the threat this woman poses eliminated, and you wish Ryan Kristoff to be spared from this threat.”
“Yes.” I couldn’t really nod with his hand under my chin.
“Yet you also wish to protect your world, your realm, from the chance that an arcane creature of my power would despoil it for his own gain.”
“Yes.”
He released my chin and took a step back, to my relief. He was a lot taller, and I was getting a crick in my neck. He clasped his hands behind his back and regarded me, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If this creature consumes Ryan Kristoff, there is little doubt that she would proceed to then destroy you.” It didn’t sound as if he was hoping for any sort of response, more as if he was working out a problem. I wished I had a clue as to what the problem was. I kept silent and waited for him to get to the damn point.
He was silent for several more heartbeats. “I have an interest in you and would prefer that you were not harmed by this creature.” Then he nodded, as if satisfied with some internal debate. “You will summon me to your world no less than once every turning of the moon around your earth for the next three of your world’s years. Upon being summoned, I will remain no longer than half of one day, unless additional terms are set at the time of the summoning. During that time in your world, I will do nothing with the intent of causing you harm or that acts against your own code of honor without your leave.”
I quickly ran through what he’d said. Once a month for the next three years, for no more than half a day. “My code of honor includes obeying the judicial laws that apply to me. I would have you obey them to the same degree, unless I indicate otherwise.”
He inclined his head. “Agreed. In return, I will remove the threat that this woman poses to you and to those you hold dear.” I thought his lip curled in derision, but if so the expression was a brief one.
“And you will also agree,” I said, straightening my shoulders, “on all subsequent summonings of your person, to answer no less than three questions that I ask of you, to the best of your ability.”
A faint smile curved the corner of his mouth, as if pleased at my temerity to bend the negotiation to my favor, even if only by a few millimeters. “One question.”
“Two.”
“Done. These are terms that I can and will abide by.”
I let my breath out. “These are terms that I can and will abide by,” I echoed. And, to my relief, they were.
“Give me your hand, Kara.”
I extended my right hand, but he shook his head and reached for my left, turning it palm up. A knife abruptly appeared in his hand, a wicked and evil-looking artifact, with a blade that shimmered with an oily blue sheen and a handle covered in spikes that thrust between his fingers as he gripped it. The thought flashed through me that a careless grasp on that knife would be a painful experience. A dark-blue jewel capped the pommel with a dull light that seemed to flicker sluggishly from its depths.
A spasm of abject terror shot through me at the sight of the knife, for no reason that I could name. But before I could yank my hand back, Rhyzkahl tightened his hold and pulled my arm straight, then slid the knife across my forearm, perfectly following the thin scar on my arm from where I’d cut my own flesh to summon Kehlirik. A hideous wave of cold nausea swept through me at the touch of the blade, but it was gone as soon as the metal was no longer in contact with my flesh. I watched the blood well up from the shallow slice, then looked up at Rhyzkahl in time to see him make a similar slice on his own forearm. He took a step closer to me and pressed the two slices together. I expected to feel something—a shock or burning or something bizarre as the blood mingled—but all I could feel was the powerful aura of him that surrounded us both.
“And now the oath is bound in blood.” He smiled and kissed me—a light and strangely chaste kiss, especially compared to some of the deep and throbbing and heat-filled kisses he had laid on me before.
“I need to know something,” I said after he stepped back. “I mean … could you answer two questions for me now?”
He inclined his head ever so slightly in acquiescence.