"I think it depends on how badly one wants his
female."|
"Then it's a good thing you're obsessed with me."
"Why? Are you concerned that I might desire another?"
She was saved from answering when a tussle broke out among boys nearby.
Durinda hurried over to snare Puck from the fray. He'd been fighting with much bigger kids-which meant that Puck was scrappy and marginally worth a second of Sabine's attention. For a juvenile demon male, she'd seen less cute.
He'd probably been teased about his name. "What kind of parents would name their kid something that rhymes with f-"
"Dead parents," Rydstrom said quickly. "They're both dead, Sabine. And he's having difficulties because he's
an orphan who hasn't yet been fostered by another family."
"What about Durinda? Why isn't she his new mother?"
"Because she is... unwed."
"The demon made his first funny." He was serious! "It is impossible that you just said that."
He only ran his hand over the back of his neck.
When Durinda spoke to Puck in Demonish, Sabine said, "What is she telling him?"
"That fights solve nothing."
"Are you ... are you jesting?." Before Rydstrom could steer her away, Sabine called, "Don't listen to her, kid! Fights solve everything! Just be sure to win them!"
"Enough! The boy doesn't understand English like the others. He was raised in a small farming village and only speaks Demonish."
"You agree with that twit about fighting, don't you? My dark gods, the world's gone mad! Tell me you wouldn't teach our child that, because it would be a deal breaker."
He stepped close to her, gazing down at her. His voice was gravelly when he said, "I didn't know you were still in negotiations."
Sexy demon. She swallowed, again wondering if there would ever come a time when she wasn't affected by him. Inward shake. "Our negotiations fell through before you brought me to this gods forsaken time warp." She turned from him-
The hits came out of nowhere. She gawked down at her ugly blouse, which had just gotten uglier.
Some teens had thrown rotten tomatoes at her, splat-ting them over her chest. She stared in disbelief. If this had happened at any other time in her life, someone would be about to die.
Through gritted teeth, she told Rydstrom, "Untie- me-now!" Her nails were digging into her palms, draw-ing blood.
He swept a menacing glower in the offenders' direc­tion, and the parents came forth to apologize abjectly.
Rydstrom told them, "I will return to finish this mat­ter." Then he began squiring her back to the tent.
"That's all you're going to do? Not good enough, Rydstrom!" She struggled against him. "Untie my bloody hands!"
"Why? So you can kill some misguided children?"
"No, I'll just give them nightmares for the rest of their lives." The way people were staring at her eyes, she knew they were glowing blue with fury.
Once they were back inside, he dragged her over to the bedding in the corner. She was dismayed to see that while they'd been gone, someone had driven a stake into the ground. Attached to it was a length of cord. No, the demon wouldn't dare . . .
He fetched her a towel from the dressing stand, dip­ping it in the washing bowl. After he stripped her shirt, he rubbed her clean, then redressed her in another awful blouse.
"How are you going to punish those little punks?"
"I'm going to tell their parents that you bade me to be lenient with them."
"Well, aren't you a cunning demon? Already working
on my image among them. Too bad that will be a he. And Good King Rydstrom doesn't lie."
"By the time I leave this tent, it won't be a lie."
"Never! Not on your-"
"Then I won't arrange for you to write a message to your sister. Even though I'd found a messenger here who thinks he can get a letter to Tornin."
"Truly? Oh, fine. King Rydstrom, will you be lenient with the poor, misbegotten sons of curs who threw rot­ten vegetables at me?"
"I'd be glad to convey that." Was he eyeing that long line attached to the stake?
"Don't even think about it!" When he bent down to tie her ankle, she kicked out with those useless slippers on her feet.
But he seized her leg, holding her in places as he knot­ted the line. His task complete, he started for the exit.
"Where are you going? You can't leave me like this!" He stopped with one hand on the flap and faced her. "You stir up ill-will when you're out. There's much I have to do, and I can't watch you constantly."
"Then free me."
"Not a chance." He pointed at her ankle. "There's enough line for you to reach the guard outside."
"Guard?" she cried. "Do you think I can escape ... ?" She trailed off. "He's for my protection. Again you leave me defenseless."
"The guard won't let anything happen to you."
"But what will I do?"
"Sit in here. Contemplate why others might feel moved to throw things at you."
As he ducked out of the tent, she yelled, "You leave me tied up like a dog? Then you had better remember that this bitch bites!"
And then he was gone.
An hour inched by before the tent flap opened once more. Surprisingly, it was the boy, Puck.
"What do you want?" Sabine snapped, sitting up on her haunches, scouting for vegetables on his person. "Come to throw tomatoes?"
As he entered, he pulled a blade from his pocket. Excellent. She was going to be shanked by a pup barely our of diapers.
Yet then he drew a piece of wood from his other pocket and plopped down beside her, beginning to whittle.
Oh. "Can you make me an eye-socket-size stake? For Rydstrom?" Puck frowned, not understanding English. "Or better yet, you can use your little knife to cut through these bindings."
He grinned with total incomprehension.
Sabine didn't care for children, and after repeated failed attempts to communicate his role in her escape plot, his presence swiftly began irritating her. "Shoo, then. Get out."
He didn't budge.
In an exaggeratedly cheery voice, she said, "You've shown me what a good wittle whittler you are!" Her tone normal once more, she said, "So go the hell away. I've important things to ponder."
Nothing. "Oh, I get it! You're doing some kind of cute orphan stunt. Trying to make me like you so you might get a new mommy because I am wed. Of course,