“Oil?”

“For ease, and um…friction.”

The Beast’s lips split in a beatific smile.

“We will try to rise, and when we do, we will find some,” Daemon decreed.

Yes!

“I will…gather my magicks. I will…conserve my strength,” Jellan promised.

“I will make sure you have more food, and in the meantime, I will tell her I want oil so I can have friction when I use you.”

Jellan nodded, trying not to do it enthusiastically, about the food, or cringingly, about the other.

“It will also be better for you,” he shared.

Daemon grinned at him. “It is already good.”

Jellan gave him a tentative return smile.

“And I will share I do not want her watching.”

“No,” Jellan said, too swiftly, for as he spoke, the creature’s brows drew together. “It might make her angry.”

“Why do I care if I make her angry?” Daemon asked. “I could crush her head against the stone.” It lifted its hands and clapped them together, making a loud noise that caused Jellan to jump. “But I cannot, for she is the only way I have to make me rise.” He shook his head. “When she took me up, I should not have let her bring me back down.”

“Well, you might have me.”

The creature brightened.

“However, we do need to keep her around. If I cannot access my magic down here, we may need her to get to the surface.”

“Oh,” Daemon mumbled. “Right.”

“I will…” He swallowed his excitement and carried on. “I will try to do what I will. More food will be good. Clothes.”

The thing grinned again. “I like you as you are. Though you are now too skinny.”

“I will need clothes on the surface.”

Daemon nodded. “I will have her females mend your robes.”

Excellent.

“Be careful, uh, showing your mistress any concern for me.”

“It will be difficult for you to be of use to me if you waste to nothing or catch a chill that also,” it grinned again, “wastes you to nothing.”

“Yes,” Jellan agreed. “And if I find my magicks are bound down here, like yours, I will find a way to tell you, and then we will plan what we will do next in order to get you to the surface.”

Daemon nodded.

“But we will get you free,” Jellan whispered.

The Beast stared hard at him and replied, “I want to be free.”

“It is my calling to make you thus, and I will do it. That is my oath to you, Daemon. Believe in me and understand my resolve. That is my oath.”

The Beast continued to stare hard at him.

And he did not smile when he ordered, “Make me free.”

Jellan nodded.

The Beast came at him.

And, with no audience, Jellan made certain his oath was sealed with an offering.

The Beast approved.

103

The Counsellor

King True

Outside the Bedchamber of Sir Alfie, Birchlire Castle, Notting Thicket