“Is it improper for a host to visit his guests?,” the king drawls. His voice is dark, and smooth, and it caresses my mind while it slides through my thoughts. Like sweet wine.
“What the hell are you doing trespassing in my room?” the prince demands, grabbing his pants, and clumsily pulling them on. I wonder if he feels how much hotter the room got. My skin suddenly burns as the same song from the viewing room reaches a new crescendo.
“I came as a friend, hoping we could enjoy a few more moments of conversation before the feast,” he breaks off, his eyes flitting between me and the giant, before his disgust deepens. He gives a haughty smile that stings more than it should. I grapple to understand my illogical reaction—of course, he doesn't care about me. That voice in my head... it wasn't him. It was someone else.
"Slave troubles?" the Enduar Troll King asks.
“It smells like animal shit in here,” the warrior pipes up.
Prince Keksej doesn’t blink. “Just a human.” Both of them laugh, and my wounds burned more intensely than before. The king does not laugh.
"Prince Keksej, I came with a bottle of our finest batch to make up for that little quake. We've been experiencing some irregularities in our mines." The sound of this man's voice confuses me, it's too similar to what I heard. But he... he hates me. Why would he threaten to kill the giants?
My master makes a sloppy, pleased sound. "Ah, yes. You had me worried we would have to attack you. I know your people,” he clumsily moves his hands before him as if mimicking a spell, “magic the stones or some nonsense.”
The king smiles, and the sharp points of his teeth, paired with glowing blue eyes and polished armor, chill me to my bone. He's a demon, come out of some fiery hole.
"I am in no mood for war today. I thought we might have a little game," King Teo says, walking to a small table on the side of the room.
The warrior watches him carefully, and I forget that I'm still cleaning my mess. The pain in my body returns with a vengeance as my back starts to throb. I shiver despite the heat.
"What game?" the prince demands.
The king pulls out a seat and sits down. "A drinking game. I see you're more than fond of a good brew."
I am the one with the least amount of experience in relations between the Enduar and the giants, so I have no reference point for what the interactions should be. But drinking in the presence of an enemy seems... unwise.
Keksej is more drunk than I realize because he smiles. “We’ve been doing business for years. Nice to see you’re loosening up.”
The spot on the ground is about as clean as it will get, so I slowly stand up and eyeball the warrior now leaning against the wall. He’s scowling at the idea.
“My Prince, maybe you should—”
Keksej’s face turns red. “You will not deny me. I never back down to a challenge, so bring the mead!”
No one acknowledges me. A quick look shows that the door is now closed, still unable to reach Mikal. The clink of a glass draws my attention back to the sovereigns once more.
“Tiny flea! Be a good bitch and pour for us," the First Prince calls.
I grit my teeth, trying to swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. These men are monsters. Being near them makes my skin crawl, but I know better than to disobey. I slowly make my way over to the table and pick up the bottle of mead.
It takes everything inside of me to ignore that cursed song piercing through all my defenses. The king draws me in like a moth to a flame, and I want to touch him. Just once. And then—
I stop myself. This is a trap.
"Giant rules, then. Grofiket, you will keep score! The first to pass out or vomit loses." The giant warrior nods, and Keksej looks even more delighted.
"I would be amenable to that," the Enduar King's voice slides through the air, mingling with the song and caressing me in ways it shouldn't.
"If we are drinking, there should be a wager!" the prince says at last.
The Enduar nods. "My thoughts precisely. Tell me, Prince Keksej," the tall, blue man leans forward, armor rippling as he moves, "Would you like another diamond?"
The First Prince grunts and the warrior standing at attention behind us shifts his weight.
It's an impressive suggestion, but I don't know what more the Enduares could want. We didn't bring enough supplies for more bartering. As I pour, I can't help but think of my hygiene. The alcohol burns the inside of my nose, and I smell little else, but the Enduar likely has heightened senses. What does he think of me?
I balance the jug on my hip and push one drink toward the First Prince. His movements are still jerky. A splash of liquid lands on my dress.It doesn't matter,I tell myself. Then I take a breath and start to push the other glass to the king. He catches it before I have a second to react, and our little fingers touch.