Lucifron took the steps up the central tower two at a time, eager to share the news with the Dark Lord. While on his rounds of the dungeon, he’d received a report that the imprisoned paladin had eaten breakfast this morning.

It had taken him some time to find out that the Great One was in the temple to attend the morning service. Lucifron had tried to follow Greg-Theryx’s official schedule but had been rewarded by a run-in with some disgruntled moss-counters from the Dreadthorn Ministry of Agriculture. But after running back down the tower steps to the kitchens, he’d finally managed to find Majordomo Lampshade, who had informed him of the Master’s actual location and divulged a bit of gossip at the same time.

Women troubles, Lucifron thought with a chuckle. He couldn’t relate. Sadly, his duties left little time for socializing, and though he’d been to the Hall of Pleasures a few times, he had come to the sad conclusion that it left him resigned as often as satisfied, and he hadn’t attended services there in years.

Sometimes, like today, when he knew he was carrying good news, he wondered how much favor it would gain him with Greg-Theryx. Lucifron could not help but feel that he was still in the negatives after the Dark Lord had been attacked in his temple and mobbed in the streets of his city.

Though the Master’s body had changed, his eyes were the same as always. Lucifron still found himself at a loss when the Dark Lord looked at him. To see the spark of life in that reanimated body was both a blessing and a curse. Lucifron shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. It was a sin to acknowledge the source of Greg-Theryx’s vessel, so it was best not to think about such things. It would only cause him anguish.

All Lucifron could hope was that this news would boost him, even if only slightly, in the Master’s esteem. He imagined the Dark Lord, upon receiving the news, pointing at Lucifron and intoning in a deep voice, “Adequate.”

The thought of that simple affirmation made Lucifron’s heart swell with pride, and he could not resist continuing the dream. The Dark Lord placed his hand on Lucifron’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Truly exemplary service, Darkstar.”

You know, I am pretty exemplary… was what Lucifron was thinking as he ran directly into a blue-skinned woman who had been running in the opposite direction. They both must have been lost in thought, for the woman hadn’t said anything or tried to avoid their collision. Lucifron lost his balance and began to fall backward with the woman on top of him.

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For a moment, Lucifron was so surprised that he forgot he could fly. Coming to his senses, he reached for the woman’s blue arm, taking hold of her as his wings spread to either side of the stairwell. Forming an incantation in his mind that was as familiar to him as the nursery rhymes he had learned as a child, he made himself lighter on his feet and flapped his wings hard to steady the two of them.

After one last stumble in the opposite direction, they found a precarious balance on the steps, facing one another. The woman’s skin appeared flushed, a pinkish-blue, and two red lines of tears stained her cheeks. This poor woman must have been terrified. If she’d fallen down the steps, which spiraled out of sight in both directions, she could have been quite hurt. Even worse, if she’d hit her head…

Lucifron shuddered at the thought. Such a beautiful lady—he realized he was staring into her striking green eyes, quite by accident, so he awkwardly turned his head away and took a step backward, one step down, to place a respectful distance between them.

But to his surprise, she hopped down a step right after him, and the next thing he felt was her lips on his cheek, the faintest touch of them, and Lucifron let out a murmur despite himself. This was entirely unexpected.

“Thank you,” she said.

He looked at her, his eyes wide. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

“What’s your name?” she asked, pulling away slightly though remaining far closer than propriety would dictate.

“Lucifron,” he said. “Captain Lucifron Darkstar.”

“Ooh, a Captain?” She smiled. “You have a nice name, Lucifron. Mine is Yeni Duskblade.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Oh?” Yeni exclaimed. “Right. You’re busy. I’d better leave you to it.”

Something in the way she said it, the resigned flatness of her words, made Lucifron hesitate. “Ah, I mean, not terribly so, I just didn’t—”

“Well, I’m in no great hurry, either,” Yeni said, and her eyelashes fluttered.

“Perhaps I should escort you to wherever you are going, then,” he said after a moment of consideration. “To ensure you’re not injured, Lady Yeni.”

“You’re too kind,” she said with a smile. Her green eyes twinkled in the flickering light of the stairwell. “Safety first.”

And so he turned around and held out his arm to her. They began to walk down the steps, much more carefully this time. Undoubtedly, the Dark Lord would not mind if he took a short break on his way to deliver such good news. Or perhaps he would mind, but he didn’t need to know about it.

Sorry, brother, Lucifron thought before he caught himself. No, not any more.