In Mona’s mind, the spell had formed without thinking, her hand reaching toward the assassin’s sword arm as she summoned her Will to bear. A chain of fire materialized and sprang forward like a snake moving in to strike her Master’s attacker. Judging by the sword of blazing white flames, they were a paladin. A knight sworn to Sun-Domia.

The tower had been infiltrated, not that this realization mattered now. Now was the time to dispatch the intruder. Her flames coiled around the paladin’s wrist, then tightened as Mona pulled the chain back towards her. The attacker screamed in pain—a woman’s voice—as a sizzling sound came from where the flame binding scorched her. Greg, to his credit, dodged to the side, the paladin’s sword striking his throne but missing him entirely.

You’re welcome, she thought, but then the attacker turned and leaped towards Mona instead. The paladin had the eyes of an animal, glowing like amber, but her face looked hazy, obfuscated by magic. Her demonic appearance was an illusion.

Mona dodged away from the altar, using the chain of fire to pull the attacker’s sword to the side—until the paladin switched her sword to her other hand.

Shit, she’s too damn fast.

Mona gritted her teeth and willed the flames to tighten. She saw the intruder wince, but not scream in pain this time. Frantically, Mona raised her hands and began to whisper a new incantation, something more potent—she felt her Will rising to the challenge, the flame expanding in her mind, a mighty blast growing in her hands—

The paladin’s sword swiftly cut through the still half-formed flame, dispelling it, then continued forward and sank its blade into Mona’s shoulder. This time it was her turn to scream in pain, the holy fire causing every cell in her demonic body to writhe in agony. Her nerves fired uselessly, an unending wave of pain telling her to run, to do whatever she needed to be safe from that searing, heavenly fire.

Mona’s legs buckled, and she fell to the marble, the side of her head cracking against the stone violently. Her vision blurred. She may have saved Greg, but by drawing the paladin’s attention, she’d doomed herself.

The attacker looked at Mona with a cold intensity as they spun the sword fluidly, taking it in both hands and driving it towards Mona’s stomach.

Is this it? Mona thought. In the end, Mother, I suppose you were right. All my work was for nothing. It was all happening so fast. She felt tears running from the corners of her eyes.

She screamed in rage, as if it were another prayer or incantation, as if her anguish might save her, as she watched the sword flash downward.

Until it stopped, suspended for a moment, as with a great force her attacker was pulled backward, screaming in pain, a new chain of fire wrapped around her neck now, a chain of fire that crackled with light and heat, that must have been formed by a mighty Will…

Mona’s eyes followed the chain to where Greg stood with it firmly in hand, pulling the paladin back towards him, his arms straining, a look of determination in his eyes as sweat dripped from his face. He did it, she thought, he actually…

She wondered if she had ever been happier to be wrong, but she doubted it.

A moment later, Shatterbone crashed through the banister and brought down his axe, slashing it across the attacker’s back. She fell to the ground, a jagged gouge through her robes now, revealing a smaller puncture in a silver breastplate underneath it.

A paladin indeed, Mona thought, to wear armor like that.

Six demons flew in from above, landing with their pikes pointed towards the paladin, forming a circle around her now prone form.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Shatterbone said with a chuckle, as he raised his axe above his head.

“Stay your hand, General,” Greg said. “For now.” Mona looked at him in surprise, the wound in her shoulder aching in pain as she tried to move. This is no time for mercy. “If we kill her now, we’ll never know why she came. Or how she breached our defenses.”

Lucifron had landed outside the circle of his soldiers. His sword was in hand, though he’d arrived too late to use it. He looked ashamed. “Master, I must—”

Greg waved his hand dismissively as if already knowing what Darkstar had intended to say. As he released the chain of fire that bound the paladin, it dissipated, vanishing into thin air with a puff of smoke.

“Yes, there was a hole in your security. I’ll hold off on punishment until we know what happened, Captain. Until then, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. After all, I will not be taken down so easily in the heart of my power.” Master took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling—she would have to tell him to be more mindful of that, because sometimes he really did not seem to be in control.

Shatterbone raised his hands and said, “Well, the ceremony is over, so let’s clear the—”

“It’s not,” Greg said, a gleam in his eye. Then he shook his head and blinked as if his adrenaline was only now starting to fade, and he walked around the circle of soldiers and over to Mona, reaching his hand out towards her. She took it and rose shakily to her feet. “I still have a toast to give, after all. I don’t want to disappoint you, High Priestess.” He gave her a stupid, goofy smile while his back was turned to the congregation as if trying to reassure her.

He turned to Lucifron, serious once more. “Darkstar, bind the interloper’s hands and feet and throw her in the dungeon. We’ll interrogate her later.” He looked down at the attacker for a moment. The illusion had dissolved, revealing a pair of floppy black ears at the top of the paladin’s head, and a woman’s face with dark skin. Peeking out from the bottom of her robes, a fluffy, black tail had appeared.

Of course, Mona thought, it had to be a damn beastfolk. A wolf-kin, by the looks of her.

One of the Legion gently tapped the paladin with his pike, as if testing her, and she suddenly twisted around, fangs bared, her fingernails transforming into claws as they erupted from her hands. She looked around in fear, ears twitching, until her eyes fixed on Greg’s tall form and at last settled on Mona. At the sight of Mona, the paladin attempted to leap forward, snarling, as if wishing to finish what she had begun.

Before she could, Lucifron spoke a lightning incantation, electrifying his sword and bringing it gently against the beastfolk’s shoulder. A loud zapping noise rang out, and the beastfolk fell to the ground with a yelp. Two Winged Legion soldiers rushed forward carrying manacles, and subdued the interloper.

“What a sad wolf,” Mona said.

“I believe she is a dog-kin, actually,” Darkstar replied, his sword still crackling with energy. He raised an eyebrow. “How disturbing to think she follows a false idol. To think that one of our cousins would stray so far.” He shook his head in disgust, then snapped to attention again and addressed his men. “Well, don’t just stand there, do as our Master bid. Take her to the dungeon. Keep her under constant guard. Gag her, too. The last thing we need is for her to start praying for salvation.”

Greg nodded. “Good,” he said, then turned back to Mona. He looked at her shoulder and winced. She hadn’t noticed, but it was bleeding quite a bit, and worst of all, that damn dog had ruined her lovely dress.

He touched her arm for a moment, taking care not to handle the wound directly, then leaned in and whispered to her, “Mona, you need a doctor.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

She shook her head, dropping her voice as well. “What’s a doctor, Master? I’ll be fine until after the ceremony.” Then, almost out of habit, and because she could feel all the many eyes on her, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I’ve had worse.”

She looked up into his eyes. They looked so concerned for her. As if now she was the only worry in his heart. She hadn’t seen anything like it before. She couldn’t help but smile at him. “You saved my life,” she said. “Thank you, Master.”

“You saved mine first,” he whispered, then nodded. “If you’re sure you’re okay…” He turned to Shatterbone. “General, help the High Priestess to a chair. I’ll take over from here.”

Mona shook her head at Shatterbone as he approached her. “I’m fine,” she said and walked to a row of chairs against the back wall behind the altar, under the banner of the Void. On her way there, Shatterbone walked alongside her to ensure she did not fall. At last she lowered herself into the chair, taking care not to move her left shoulder where the paladin had wounded her.

The Winged Legion dragged the attacker out of the auditorium, and once they were gone, Greg stood at the altar and placed his hands upon it. The audience was eerily silent. Perhaps everyone was still shocked by what had occurred.

“My brothers and sisters of the Void…” he began, exactly as she’d taught him. His voice boomed throughout the auditorium as he spoke to the congregants. His congregants. There could be no doubt now, she thought.

If anyone had harbored any misgivings about him, she did not see how his performance would not dispel them. He spoke every word perfectly, just as she’d instructed. He really had been paying attention, she realized. She hardly wanted to admit it now, lest he get a big head about it, but he had been a pretty good student so far.

There was so much more she wished to teach him.

As if knowing he was doing well, he turned back to look at her and gave her a casual smile, his eyes gleaming. “Damn you, Master,” she whispered. “Damn you straight to hell.” But despite the pain in her shoulder, she could not help but return his smile.

“I do apologize…” Greg said, and Mona tensed—he had begun to go off script, departing from the sermon she had prepared for him. “…for the earlier interruption to our festivities.” He slammed one of his fists against the dais, and whispers spread throughout the audience. “Let it be known that it will take more than one foolish paladin to harm us here. Though some of our brothers and sisters of the Void have strayed, I promise you this—in time, all will return to the one and true faith.”

Mona wasn’t sure if it was her blood loss or the intensity of being in such a life-or-death situation, but she found herself lost in a daydream of them laying siege to the city of Lycanta, not merely surviving but winning the war. Her and Greg, together. For the first time, it felt like a possible future.

Though he was now speaking his own words, as Mona watched the congregation, she saw they were rapt with attention.

“My sister,” he said, “has shown her hand this day. To send a mutt to our hall of worship, on the night of our celebration, is an act of desperation. It is the flailing of someone destined to lose. We will banish her from this realm, we will rout her armies, and the banners of Dreadthorn will fly above the shattered remnants of the gates to heaven.” He paused as if soaking in the energy of the crowd. “My faithful,” he said. “My dear friends, this will be last Crusade we need ever undertake in the name of the Void. I have gazed into the dark for centuries, preparing for this moment, and I have foreseen—our victory is nigh!”

When he finished, the congregation remained still, in reverent silence. She wondered if it was the words themselves—probably not—or the fact they had been delivered after a paladin of Sun-Domia had just tried and failed to kill their god, but either way, the worshipers of Greg-Theryx were transfixed and, for a long moment, all was quiet in the great temple hall.

Until, shuffling off the pew and getting on his knees, Ilmatar bowed forward. That little sycophant, Mona thought, but she had to credit him for his loyalty. As soon as he did so, everyone else also began to kneel, until all were bowing in submission.

Word of this would travel, Mona thought. Word would spread of her Master’s supposed power. And then someone in the audience shout, “Greg-Theryx!” The rest of the congregation took up the chant, repeating his name.

She saw a crack in Greg’s demeanor for a moment, a brief flicker of uncertainty in his smile. Hopefully, it was too subtle for the congregation to notice.

He raised a fist, his voice oozing with misplaced confidence as he shouted, “You need not fear Sun-Domia. I will bring her to heel, and we will triumph!”

As Mona looked out at the congregation, she could see they all believed him. But could he, if he tried? And would he, if he could?

----------------------------------------

The ceremony concluded shortly afterward, handled by other junior priestesses. Once the audience had begun to file out, Greg came to her and held out his hand, leading her from the temple and towards the elevator. Lucifron asked their Master if they should begin interrogating the dog-kin, but Greg shook his head.

“Let her stew, Captain. We’ll question her in the morning. If you’ll excuse me, I must tend to the High Priestess.”

Lucifron, to his credit, betrayed no hint of emotion at this, not even the tiniest smirk. Greg probably had no idea what he’d just implied, she realized. She thought back to the previous night before she had known he was not Himself—when she had said that word, “Godseed.” Did he even remember what she’d said? Did he have any idea why the Spider Princess was so brazenly forward?

Oh, you really have no idea what you’re made of, do you? she thought. If anything, it made her like him more that he seemed almost totally oblivious of the power he contained. She would have to educate him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d be interested.

As soon as the elevator doors slid closed behind them, she allowed her weight to fall against his body. He put his arm around her, holding her up against him. She hadn’t wanted anyone else to see her weakness, to realize the depth of her wound or the amount of blood she had lost. That would only invite gossip.

“Mona, are you okay? Are you sure we shouldn’t get you to a doctor?”

“Master, you need to stop using made-up words.” She shook her head, hoping no one had overheard him when he’d asked her about that earlier. At least now they were alone. She leaned forward and pushed the button for the top floor, rubbing her hip against him as she did so. She stole a glance, hoping to see him lusting after her, staring at her the way she’d noticed him stare during their first elevator ride, as if he could not possibly resist her.

But instead, she saw his face frowning and lined with concern. Was he really worried about her? She put her arm around his waist and leaned close to him again, closing her eyes. Maybe that’s what she needed, she thought, just a little nap, and then she’d feel better…

“A doctor is a healer, Mona. Don’t you have those? What are we going to do about your wound? Hey, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to—”

Her eyes snapped open.

“—fall asleep.” He reached to the torn sleeve of her dress. Blood had dripped down her arm and onto the elevator floor. She was thankful that the paladin’s fire had cauterized part of the wound, otherwise, she felt confident she would have bled much more.

“A healer?” she asked. “We’re demons, Master. We don’t have that kind of magic.”

“Well, what do you do when someone gets hurt? When someone gets sick?”

“We have needles and thread to bind wounds. For sickness, we must rest. But if a demon does not recover naturally? Normally, we throw their bodies away,” she said. “Among the demon upper class, if a spouse or lover dies, their surviving partner hosts an orgy in their honor…”

Her voice trailed off as the elevator reached their chambers, and the door rattled open. She did not want to explain this in front of the two guards, standing in their usual positions, spears at their sides, and stiffly at attention. Her Master supported her carefully as they walked together, moving slowly through the doors and towards their bed.

Once the doors were closed and they were alone, Mona collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the canopy, dark spots floating across her vision. “I hope the orgy you throw for me will be well attended,” she said, chuckling.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking worried. “What about the paladin? Maybe we can force her to heal you. Paladins can do that, right, in this world?”

“Her magic won’t work on demons. It would only harm me. She is a heathen who rejects the Void.” Mona wasn’t sure of that. It may have only been a superstition. But there was no way the dog paladin would ever agree to help her, so it hardly mattered.

“Then what?” Greg asked as he sat next to her. He looked like he was about to panic. “There must be something we can do.”

The memory of him rejecting her the previous night loomed in her mind. It still made her uncomfortable to remember how she’d felt—that he did not like her, that he would toss her aside, that she would die that night full of regret for a life she had wasted.

“There is something you can give me, Master. Another kind of magic, a type of medicine, if you will…”

“What?” He looked at her strangely, as if he’d started to have an inkling, but did not quite believe what she’d said. She wondered if it worked the same where he came from, if sexuality and magic were as entwined as they were here.

Her eyes wandered down to his cock. She could see its outline through his black pants. Thinking of what his naked body had looked like the first time she’d seen him, when she had been in awe of his glory, she imagined him restraining her to their bed using the same spell he’d cast earlier, then tearing off what remained of her dress. The idea made her clit tense in anticipation. Well, there was no time like the present, she thought.

She wondered if he could tell she was checking him out, like a lioness on the hunt. “Do you remember last night when I mentioned your Godseed?”

His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said.

“There’s only one thing I need from you, Greg.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. If he turned her away again, she didn’t know what she’d do. “Master, do you understand me now?”

Why did he have to be so stubborn, anyway? She could see he wanted her.

So take me, already.