There was no recognition in Weylin’s eyes. Ilya sat before him, trembling like a leaf in a blizzard, and all he did was smile his pleasant, gracious smile.

Talia took a sip of her coffee. A beverage that was trending in Idirians circles. She grimaced, battling the urge to spit the hot liquid out. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get herself to like its earthy taste.

She looked up as she heard a light chuckle.

“Not to your taste?” Weylin asked.

Talia smiled back at him. She still couldn’t believe Ilya’s accusations. How could this sweet soul be the demon lord?

“I’m afraid I have a sweet tooth myself. Perhaps it would be more manageable with some sugar.”

“Indeed.”

She glanced at Ilya. The poor soul was still as a statue, his eyes fixed on his steaming cup, unseeing. Talia nudged his leg under the table. He startled, his knee smacking loudly against the side of the table. He gave her a startled look, and Talia fought the urge to gouge his eyes out.

“How did you find your drink?” She smiled.

He hurriedly lifted his cup and gulped the dark liquid like a man lost at sea, then choked. Talia watched as he coughed and coughed, trying his best to hack his lungs out—if he had any.

“Are you okay?” Weylin asked, reaching a hand towards the struggling ex-knight.

Looking like a wyvern’s claws had lunged for him, Ilya jerked back, his screams cut off as his chair toppled over, and his back connected hardly with the ground. He inched back, refusing Weylin’s outstretched hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He struggled to his feet, putting some distance between him and Weylin.

Talia leaned on her hand, watching the disaster waiting to happen. Should she intervene? It wasn’t like Weylin would hurt Ilya. She wouldn’t let him. She had given the cowardly soul her word.

Not that she thought Weylin would hurt him.

Weylin glanced at her as if gauging her reaction. She smiled at him. “A bit jumpy, I'm afraid. He’s been through a lot, I heard.”

Weylin nodded. He sat back in his chair, eyes following Ilya as he lifted his upturned chair and awkwardly sat down.

For a second, Talia glimpsed something in Weylin’s look. Suspicion? Doubt? She couldn’t tell. It was too fast for her to fathom. She took another sip of the earthy liquid, eyes fixed on Weylin’s face.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Apart from that slip, his expression returned to his pleasant, smiling face.

Then, it was back to their usual drivel. Talking about the never-changing weather, about the unimpressive souls she had to deal with that afternoon, about her job as master of the scales. Then he asked her about the other Idirians.

“No. I’m far from being the only Idirian around.”

“Then why are you the only one around? Did you perhaps offend them?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

She grinned, her thought veering toward Layt and his scowling face. “Perhaps. Though it has more to do with all the souls trapped here than anything else. No one wants to spend even a second listening to all the laments and whining of the pitiful ones who failed the tests.” She shot a glance at Ilya, who had regained some sense and was trying but failing to clean the mess he had made with his broken cup.

At her look, Ilya frowned. “I do not whine,” he protested. “I have my dignity as a knight to maintain!”

Talia snorted.

“I do not!”

“So, you’re a knight?” Weylin asked, his sharp gaze fixed on Ilya.

Ilya faltered. “I mean… I was?”

“I see.” Weylin nodded. “From what world do you hail?” At ILya’s frantic look, he added, “You see, I was once a knight myself. Perhaps we come from the same place. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Taking pity on the almost hyperventilating soul, Talia cut in, “From Earth. Are you perhaps familiar with the place?”

“Sadly, no.” Weylin smiled. Though, again, she couldn’t help but feel the wrongness of those curled lips. He looked back at Ilya, his fake smile widening. “Such a shame. It would have been nice were we to cross paths, not only here, but also in life.”

Ilya gave a frantic nod.

“So you were a knight?” Talia asked, bringing his sharp eyes back to her.

He nodded. “For a while. But it wasn’t my calling. So I quit shortly after the initiation ceremony.”

Interesting.

“Were the rules too strict for your free soul?”

He laughed lightly, this time a genuine laugh. Talia was pleased at the sight.

“No, it wasn’t the rules. More the deity the temple worshipped.”

She leaned toward him, eager for more information.

“He was a cruel being, bent on bringing the world to his knees, uncaring about his followers. I couldn’t bring myself to follow the creed of such a savage, barbaric, evil god.”

A strange sound escaped Ilya’s throat, between disapproval and opposition. Weylin’s face split into a smirk as he glanced at him, catching his slip.

Talia mentally sighed. Was it too hard to keep his ardent worship hidden in front of his supposed enemy?

“Religion is such a touchy subject back on Earth. Many have landed on my steps from a quarrel between worshippers,” she gave as an explanation. “It’s a bit hard for someone like him to hear such words despite the difference in faith.”

“Ah, I see.” He nodded. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The speed with which Ilya had nodded might have torn his head off despite the absence of a body.

Well, as long as one believed he had one, nothing else mattered. Not even the truth.

She sighed, taking another sip of the now cold beverage, making a note to tell Aseel to cancel the next shipment of coffee. The drink had now too many bad memories attached to it to leave anything but a bad taste in her mouth.

She would have to think of another plan if she wanted to get her tale.