"You heard me!" Slyn rose to his feet and held the roasted leg above his head. "I am the King of Requiem! I sit upon the Oak Throne!" He snorted. "Kneel before your king."

His fellow Widejaws laughed. Trembling, the captive weredragons knelt and bowed before him.

Slyn sat back down and stretched out his legs. He took a deep bite from the roasted weredragon leg. Juices flowed through his mouth, and he shut his eyes and sighed with pleasure. Divine. Simply divine.

"There is no taste better than human flesh, do you know?" he said. "Even the flesh of a weredragon's human form." He grabbed one chain and yanked a golden-haired weredragon toward him. "It tastes like wild game, but softer . . . richer." He licked his lips. "Fatty and tender."

The golden-haired weredragon lowered her eyes. Her lip trembled. Slyn stroked her cheek.

"You are tender too," he whispered. "You are also rich . . . soft." He tugged her closer and licked her cheek. "You too are delicious. You taste like fear and sweat and blueberries."

She trembled. "Please, my lord."

"Please?" Slyn laughed and clutched her cheeks, squeezing them. "Are you begging too for a taste? I'll let you taste it." He held the meat up to her mouth. "Eat it. Take a bite." He laughed. "You were holding a child in the battle, weren't you? Yes . . . I saw you protecting the boy. Perhaps this is him, this roasted meat before you. Perhaps this is your son." Slyn grinned and licked his chops. "Taste him. Feed upon him. Savor the flavor."

She looked away, grimacing. A tear flowed from her eye. Slyn pressed his fingers into her jaw, forcing her mouth open. He brought the meat closer.

"Slyn of Widejaw!"

The voice boomed across the hall.

Slyn raised his eyes and cursed. He shoved the woman aside. She fell onto the tiles and scuttled away, chain clanking.

"Maggoty bones," Slyn cursed.

The demon Raem stood across the hall of Requiem, wreathed in black smoke. The creature spread out black wings, soared across the hall, and landed before the throne. Those wings were woven of human skin; Slyn had flayed enough enemies to recognize human leather.

"Welcome, mighty demon," Slyn said, meeting the creature's eyes. He leaned back in his throne. "Will you feed with us?"

Slyn would not bow, not lower his eyes, not call this demon "lord." He was King of Requiem now; he had no gods nor masters. But he would welcome Raem into his hall. He would show him respect. Because of Raem he had his kingdom; he would not forget that, and he would show the demon hospitality.

Raem stared at the campfires. He stared at the human leg clutched in Slyn's hand. He stared up at Slyn's eyes.

And he shouted.

His voice tore across the hall, cracking a column.

"Where is Laira?" The demon's eyes burned with red light. "Where is my daughter?"