“The word ‘partners’ is subject to a multitude of definitions,” Oliver murmured, delaying his decision. “Which type would we be?”

  “The ones where we work together for a common goal,” I snapped. “Specifically, saving Speranza like I just said!” I cracked my knuckles. “And as for my operating definition of punches—”

  “Very well. I will choose to be your... partner,” he replied, rising onto his knees, his hand reaching for mine. “And only your partner.”

  “Unacceptable,” I said, yanking my hand back before he could grab it. “The others are coming with us, and you’ll be working with them, too.”

  He shook his head, sending a shimmer through his long hair. “I will not invest in the kind of relationship with them you’re asking of me. If coordination between the others is needed, it will be through you.” He paused to tuck some hair behind his right horn. “Even then, I reserve the right to refuse to execute any plan I feel is detrimental to my personal being—or to those I represent.”

  My lip curled into an irritated sneer, but a rare moment of self-reflection told me this was the best I could get, and any further delay would likely result in mounting concessions or outright refusal.

  “Fine. Shake.”

  With a sigh, he slowly reached out and grasped my hand, still kneeling. I tugged, pulling him to his feet.

  “Partners,” we both declared with a single shake.

  He held on even after I’d relaxed my grip. “Do you also agree to a mutual termination of our current contract?”

  With a flash, the small snake that had taken up residence on the back of my hand reappeared, its gaze distinctly cold.

  “Yes?”

  The snake’s tongue flicked in and out several times before it slowly relaxed, then wound itself around Oliver’s arm before fading away.

  “Ever one to parade thyself,” he muttered as he let my hand go. “Now then,” he called toward the far wall, “you may return her shield.”

  A vine crept from a corner and placed Faith at my feet. It gave an awkward bow before snapping back into the shadows.

  “And my sword?” I asked as I placed Faith on my arm in buckler form.

  Oliver folded his arms, his tail snapping back and forth. “No command nor threat would entice them to come in contact with it.” He pointed across the floor into the shadows. “You’ll have to get it yourself.”

  A short walk was all it took to find it. The Will of Euphridia had landed jewel-side up, exposing yet another dilemma.

  I’m going to have to do a lot of explaining.

  Relias is going to be livid about Oliver joining us.

  Do I also admit I never even attempted his plan to seal Olethros?

  I don’t trust that jewel, even if it is shaped like a heart. It certainly wasn’t made with love.

  But if I destroy it, I won’t have a way to bag a demonic enemy if necessary.

  “What a headache,” I mumbled.

  Oliver reappeared by my side with a soft buzz. “Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. “I find the flagrant display of my sister’s mark quite insulting to our rekindled partnership. I insist you allow me to replace it with mine.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Your... mark?”

  He snapped his fingers several times. “Hand it to me.”

  I tugged the jewel from its setting and handed it over, slightly perplexed. He plucked it from my palm and inspected it.

  “Hmph.” He crushed it between his hands for a long moment, then opened them. “My craftsmanship is far superior, you see. There. Another serpent charm for your friend-in-arms. And I’ve refilled it with my animus so it’s ready when needed.”

  “Another?”

  Oliver shrugged as he deposited the iridescent gem into my hands. “You lost the first one fighting my father. Normally, I’d charge for the replacement, but I believe you’ll need to call on me again in combat. So I’ll add it to the priest’s outstanding bill.” He stared at me expectantly.

  I sighed, placing the jewel into the setting. “Outstanding bill?”

  His tail lashed as he spread his hands, a fanged, humorless grin spreading across his face. “After everything I’ve done, he never remitted the remainder of my retainer.”

  “And this is your way of telling me you plan to take it up with him?” I asked, sheathing Will before it got any ideas.

  Oliver glanced at the sword, as if to reassure himself it was out of play. “Along with all accrued interest, yes.”

  “What else do I have to look forward to?”

  Oliver’s quasi-playful demeanor faded. “If you think I don’t trust the priest, know that I find this Nora of yours even more threatening.”

  That might actually be a good thing.

  “Alright… I get it. You really don't want me forcing you to play nice with them.”

  Let our circumstances do that for me.

  “I have no reservations about the others, mind you.” He hesitated. “I would prefer to speak with them first, but they don’t appear to be within the confines of my sister’s accursed barrier.”

  The others...

  “They didn’t come with us.”

  He blinked. “And why would that be, Miss Rachel?”

  The use of my real name hit harder than expected. If he’d just called me Captain, I probably would’ve deflected with something vague, like “scheduling conflict.”

  “Mistress Aziza had your little snake friend recite our past pledge to them already, and… well, I’m sure you can put it together.”

  “Yes, I can…” he replied with a sharp inhale. “And I take back my statement of no reservations. Should they appear before us, I will have several.”

  “I don’t have any. Just let them be."

  One eye flicked open in disbelief. “As long as they don’t interfere,” he said, snapping his tail one last time. “Now, is there anything else I should know before I call Amos?”

  “No, I don’t think so—”

  “Amos!” he roared, black waves of animus swirling around him. “Show thyself!”

  Glowing purple runes formed on the floor before us, and a six-armed giant appeared, crimson swords in each hand. Black wings burst forth from his back as he screamed his challenge to his former master. “I rebuke thee, King of Nothing!”

  “Indeed,” Oliver agreed, inspecting his fingernails. “I’ve been rather insufferable as of late." He turned his head toward me. “Wouldn’t you say, partner?”

  I was too busy admiring Amos’s half-clothed physique to play along properly. “Why didn’t you go for that shape back in Chairo? It’s badass!”

  So many abs...

  Amos jerked his head back in surprise, then deflated, reforming into his usual scrawny, monk-robed self. “You’re alive!”

  “Last I checked... yes. Scathed, but alive. Are Nora and Relias… Alright?”

  He nodded, though his expression spoke volumes he couldn’t lead with. Instead, he turned to Oliver. “Master, about that rebuke…” He twitched. “I uttered it under the pretense that—”

  “I know, Amos, I know. And I am...” He glanced at me.

  “What?”

  “Don’t watch me say this.”

  I spread my hands wide. “Fine, fine, I’ll turn around. Sakes.”

  While I couldn’t understand their exchange, I’m sure the hisses and snaps were born of heartfelt, if awkward, apologies.

  Or they were just calling each other names.

  Oliver’s final comment was unmistakable, however. “No, I do not perceive any defect. But if your worry continues to fester, ask the source directly.”

  “Miss Rachel,” Amos called. “ Is there something wrong with my…”

  I tilted my head. “Your what?”

  “My… posterior?”

  “Huh?”

  “You declared it was bad. Did I assume an improper shape?”

  Oh. The badass comment.

  “No, nothing’s wrong with your butt,” I said, keeping the straightest face I could muster. “I just meant that titan form was, um, formidable.”

  “I pride myself on my humanoid physique in particular, Miss Rachel, with no other demon my peer. However, you are an expert, and I would look to you to—”

  “You already received your answer, Amos,” Oliver interjected, a dark shadow spreading across his features as his eyes flashed. “No need to further embarrass yourself.”

  Amos flinched. “I appreciate your understanding…” he trailed off.

  Oliver didn’t drop the glare. “Now. What did you want to tell both of us, Amos?”

  Amos took a breath and squared his shoulders. “Lady Nora has somehow tamed your scythe, Your Majesty, and is demanding your immediate presence to negotiate the terms of your surrender.”