26.5

Dirk poured himself another stiff drink in his chambers, knowing sleep was likely to elude him. Liquor was the only balm he knew for the misery that lived inside his heart. He had waited weeks for Zyrdicia to return. He still started at every sound in his silent room, hoping it was her returning.

He knew her well enough to expect that she would take the loss of her pregnancy hard - he knew better than anyone how badly she had wanted a child. It was the only thing she had asked of him in return for her help assuming the kingship. She would view the loss of it as a defeat, and she wasn't likely to take defeat well. Somewhere, he knew she was suffering. He feared what she might do in such a state. Immortality might prevent suicide, but there was nothing to stop her from giving up on her fight against Hell and surrendering to Azriok. That demon had a pull on her soul that always seemed at its zenith when she was most miserable.

With every fiber of his being, he wished she would return to him. He'd already forgiven her for the coma. His fury waned quickly after her departure. Rage and destruction were the fabric she was cut from. Resenting her over her furious magical outbursts was pointless. She was no more able to stop herself than a wolf could stop itself from devouring a rabbit. It had all been such a stupid misunderstanding. He could scarcely bear the thought that he might never see her again.

Dirk felt the air in his chambers stir, and he looked up expectantly, aware that someone was arriving by magic. To his disappointment, the woman that materialized was not the raven-haired beauty to whom his heart was bound. It was the witch Bethel. He groaned inwardly.

"Hello, Dirk," the witch purred.

"Bethel. Hi," he sneered coldly. A dagger was in his hand almost instantly.

"That's not any way to greet an old friend, is it?"

"Old though you may be, Bethel, you are no friend. Why are you here?"

"I have a proposition for you."

"I've long since lost interest in being propositioned by you." His lips pressed into a thin, impatient frown as he glared coldly at her.

"I've infiltrated Greystone's court. I could help you."

"In exchange for a monocle, perhaps?" he mocked.

"You and I always did understand one another's desires perfectly."

"You'll never see your monocle again."

"You don't have other options, Dirk. Now that you've seen the half-breed demon for what she is, you need someone to provide you magical assistance," Bethel said.

Dirk stared at her icily, saying nothing.

Bethel continued, "Your half-breed mongrel gave Greystone a magical device with the power to move his army into your castle. His invasion was her doing."

"Your lies are tiresome, Bethel. And rather desperate."

"Think about it, Dirk. Vector and I could never do that, even with our monocles. She was the only one who had that power."

"Goodbye, Bethel," Dirk said wearily, fingering his monocle.

"If her betrayal wasn't enough to convince you to forget about her, Dirk, then maybe this will," Bethel smiled, producing a bright green envelope.

He glared at her, making no motion to retrieve reach for it.

"You've been summoned by the Council of Magic. Tomorrow night. They intend to prohibit your former queen from ever returning to our realm. They've finally recognized that she's too dangerous a magical abomination to be allowed to function outside their control."