“You make it sound as if they’re his pets.” He snorts. "And, beyond that, I’ve only visited a handful of times.”
“Do you fuck a lot of dragons then?” God, why am I asking this? That jealousy from before is back and burning a hole in my chest.
He pauses as if weighing his response. “I have hardly been celibate since reaching maturity, even after my courtship ended. There were several dragon partners over the years, and we always had a mutual understanding about what our relationships could and couldn’t be.”
Because his parents wanted him to marry a human and save the territory. The knowledge makes me feel strange. “I…”
“Don’t stop speaking your thoughts now.” His forearm flexes against my hips. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t want to share you,” I whisper. “I can see why you’d prefer a dragon, especially since you almost married one, but if you’re my husband and I’m your wife, then I want to be exclusive.” Funny how I’ve gone from not wanting to be married again to demanding the dragon husband I never wanted to be only with me.
Sol nuzzles my temple. “There will be no one else but you, Briar. I promise.”
Another promise I have no business believing, but he’s given me no reason to doubt him. I stare at the stone wall, wondering how we got into such uncharted waters so quickly. He’s tense at my back, and coward that I am, I divert us back to safer topics. “Are you sure the humans aren’t Azazel’s pets?”
He relaxes against me. “They’re free enough, even if they remain in bargainer demon territory. I can’t speak to their motivations, but they’re hardly kept caged and passed around without consent. Not all of them choose to, ah, entertain Azazel’s guests from other territories.”
I trace a finger along his scales. Yes, better to talk about Azazel than the strangely territorial feeling coursing beneath my skin. “If he has that many humans, why did he have to bring in us five for you? Why not just let them intersperse with the rest of the realm’s population?”
“Azazel is a canny bastard.” He huffs out a breath. “It’s intentional. We might be at peace now, but we haven’t always been. He dangles a tempting fruit in front of us and withholds the true possibility of more than just a taste. The presence of so many humans when travel between the realms is rare is a tempting fruit, but Azazel’s lineage is littered with humans. He’s significantly more powerful than the rest of us, and as a result, his territory will never be conquered.”
This world is recognizable in some ways, but so foreign in others. “The balance seems to work well enough in this realm. You’re not at war.”
“Not currently.” He sighs. “I won’t lie and say I’m not concerned about what will happen if some territory leaders succeed and others fail. Our skirmishes have been just that for several generations. Skirmishes. But if the balance were to tip in a substantial way, war is all but inevitable.”
I shiver. Obviously I knew a child was part of Sol’s goals, but I hadn’t paused to consider the implications that all the territory leaders might be out for the same thing. Except… “But about the smoke and fire lady? How does that work with, uh, pregnancy and stuff?”
“Rusalka.” He says her name almost like a curse. “The succubi and incubi don’t choose leaders the same way the dragons do. It’s not lineage that determines who inherits the title. It’s strength.”
“Oh.” And a half-human child would be strong. I shudder. These territory leaders can’t force us, but will the others hold out?
Hopefully they’re doing a better job of it than I am.
Except that’s not fair. I know where my line is, at least in that. I can’t extend that to anyone but me. If one of the other women wants to have twelve babies with her monster, that’s her business.
Even if it hurts Sol?
I shut the thought down. Hard. I made my deal with eyes wide open, but I didn’t do it to help anyone else except me. I’m certainly not selfless enough to give up a child. I shiver again and wrap my hand around the pendant, letting its solidity steady me as much as having Sol wrapped around my tired body. “It seems very complicated.”
“Yes.”
I like that he’s rather blunt. He doesn’t play with words and talk circles around me. Even when he obviously doesn’t want to talk about something, he doesn’t make me feel like it’s my fault that the subject came up and now he’s irritated because I’m too dense to understand the problem.
I tense and slap the water. “Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s like he’s haunting me. I can’t stop comparing the two of you, can’t stop my expectations that things will be just as messed up with you as they were with him.”