“Know that she will not seize the upper hand again,” he said with all confidence, even as he felt a whisper of disappointment over that fact.

Uthyr’s lips drew back from rows of pointed teeth, his version of a smile. —Imagine my surprise to see you plummeting from your own tower while leashed to a . . . what’s the modern phrase? Ah, yes, a bag of dicks.— He laughed at his own joke, emitting puffs of smoke.

Sian grated, “You’ve developed quite a mastery of modern phrasings.”

—I learned much from Rune’s memories.—

All of the Møriør were supposed to have slept during their five centuries of travel from the Elserealms to this side of the universe—except for Rune, who’d worked as their spy in Gaia.

Whenever a Møriør woke, he or she would delve into Rune’s mind to learn what history had passed and to pick up new words and speech patterns.

Sian hadn’t slept during the journey. Instead he’d lain in a kind of twilight, tormenting himself, wondering if this Accession would return his mate to him. . . .

Golden eyes alight, Uthyr said, —Plus the Vrekener queen, our new Pandemonian neighbor, has glorious television recordings! I secretly watch through her window.—

“That trespassing territory thief?” Melanthe had taken advantage of Sian, and he would punish her for it, somehow, someway. Speaking of territory . . . “Do you know where the Magic Kingdom is? My prisoner said it lies between Rivendell and Narnia.”

—These places sound familiar. I’ll think on it.— When Sian conjured a rag and began to clean his ax, the dragon said, —Searching for the hellfire again?—

Why had Sian confided his mother’s words to Uthyr?

Stopping along the path, the dragon placed a paw in front of Sian. —You need to accept that you will never find it. Acknowledge your curse and work within the confines of it.—

How easy for him to say! Uthyr voluntarily chose his shape.

Sian would kill to be a shifter. He’d even dreamed about shifting from his hell-change form to his previous guise and back.

—That’s your only chance for a lasting future with your female.—

“Lasting future? I despise her. I could never again trust her. Even so, any male would want to be attractive to his mate.” They continued on.

—If raised differently, Kari could be changed from before. Nature versus nurture, demon.—

“In this we agree. In fact, no longer will I call my prisoner Kari. This fierce new version, Calliope, is in a class all her own.” Because she wasn’t a royal in this life?

Maybe a princess’s restraint had been ingrained into Kari from birth. The same restraint that had curbed Kari’s temper could have controlled her sexuality.

Calliope had an explosive temper. Would her lusts be just as volatile?

“Turn Princess Kari feral . . . and you have Calliope.” Could that also mean she wasn’t narrow-minded and heartless? “Unless she’s playing games with me. The possibility remains that she’s a planted spy.”

—Games? Mayhap you’re attributing your own traits to her.— Uthyr flicked his tail, a movement he often made just before saying “checkmate.” —I’m surprised you haven’t decided to seduce her.—

Sian glowered at the dragon. “I’m sure you heard what she makes of my appearance.” He waved at himself. “She finds me repulsive.”

—What did you want most out of life? Ah, yes, a challenge.—

“An attainable one.” But hadn’t Sian also lamented never knowing a hard-won victory? If he could seduce her in this guise . . .

—Considering her age, she might be feeling the effects of overstimulation.—

Her senses would be growing ever sharper, bombarding her with stimulation, her desires increasing in time.

—I remember my own transition. I would have tupped a sweet-talking ghouless for relief.—

“You think I could use her new lusts against her?”

—I don’t like the conniving gleam in your eyes.—

Sian had been in battle. He’d suffered physical agony and horror. He’d lived through the amputation of his horns. But nothing had hurt him like the hole Kari had left in his chest. He needed to make her experience the same! He wanted her to fucking ache for him.

To think of nothing but him for the next ten thousand years.

“If someone who looks like me used and tossed her away, she’d be humiliated.” He might be able to punish her worse than the labors he’d planned.

—This was not the direction I’d hoped your mind would go. And how could you mate and discard her? You’d have to withhold your claiming bite. Is any demon male strong enough to resist marking his mate’s neck in the throes of first spending?—

If Sian did mark her with his fangs, she would irreversibly become the queen of hell. “A strong enough demon male? How about the primordial”—Sian pounded a fist against his chest—“of the entire godsdamned species?”

Uthyr gave him an unimpressed look.

“I’ll think on this, dragon. For now, let’s see how my captive reacts to amusing new torments.” Amusing for him alone, of course.

Before Sian could trace away, Uthyr said, —I’ve seen some of your recollections of her.—

Not surprising. As bonded as a family, the members of the Møriør were telepathically linked, with few secrets between them. Though he trusted his allies with his life, Sian had shielded certain memories from them. Yet snippets always slipped through. “When we all communicate, we learn much about each other.” A fact of life.

—True. And I might have dug a bit.—

Sian bared his fangs again. Digging into masked memories was taboo! If Uthyr saw Sian’s shameful pleas to Kari . . . “I’ve killed for lesser slights. Have I tried to find out why you refuse to shift back to your human form? No. But I will now.”

Uthyr shrugged his wings. —I investigated so I might be of more service to you, friend. I must know the history.—

There was a reason Sian didn’t want the others to know. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to the past.

After he’d revealed to Kari everything about his kind, she’d avoided him for weeks, refusing any contact with him. He’d been helpless to do anything as a future with his mate slipped from his panicked grasp.