The Changeling

30

Xocthl wrangled Lovou down to the nearest place, serving liquor and distractions with only three threats she would have to follow through on. The lout was morose and silent, getting dragged away from Ezren's quarters, and he'd been stubborn as a mule.

It was easier to just remind Lovou that Cetlali was smart, because if anything was true, that was it. She needed time. She needed space.

Most importantly, she'd need their support.

Unfortunately, Lovou thought the idea of support meant charging in and murdering the Vassour elect in the bloodiest way imaginable.

That made it harder to point out what would happen, especially after his brother had just attempted to do the same. Accusations of collusion with Ovar were a hearty enough threat to calm the beast raging inside him.

They'd been at an Indulgence Temple for a while drinking their fill. Lovou poured wine

down his throat like he was a fish stuck on land by accident and figured any liquid was better than no liquid at all. Xocthl had an indulgent or two on her lap. An alluring Bruxe served her wine with a promise in their eyes, and a beautiful man occasionally fed her grapes, singing her songs. He had cheekbones even Caran Armistead couldn't scoff at.

Lovou hissed and spit at every single person who approached him, calling for more wine within an hour than a newborn babe needing the breast. It was absurd, loathsome, and certainly quite sad when looked at within the current circumstances.

"What's got you so riled? We're here on Ezren's coin." Xocthl murmured into the neck of an indulgent, layered in sheer silk and looking more delectable than any food or drink could ever try.

"Fuck Ezren's coin!" Lovou spat all his wretched feelings into that response, already nearing in on a nefarious drunkenness.

"Oh, so you're on one tonight?" Xocthl muttered. Looking up into the eyes of her newest conquest, she let out a long-suffering sigh. "You are truly beautiful, my love, but you see that over there?"

She continued and pointed at Lovou. "That pathetic excuse for a lump is supposed to be the fiercest warrior in all the Five Realms." The indulgent responded with a pleased hum as Xocthl continued in her theatrical lilt. "Would you have ever guessed this wretched fuck could best Ovar the Ogre in single combat? I wouldn't. I'd assume he's a heartbroken, lonely little whelp in need of a good —,"

"Will your shut your cunt-fucking mouth?"

Lovou snarled.

Xocthl grinned a bit and pat the indulgent on the thigh, with a foretelling look, "If you've found a customer in an hour or two, I'll understand. If you haven't, I wouldn't mind settling my face between your thighs the rest of the night and speaking every pretty poem I know to that lovely little oasis of yours under

there." There was a promising murmur in her ear and the indulgent disappeared, waving down some more wine as a token or an encouragement, no one knew.

Xocthl let out a dreamy sigh and then turned back to Lovou with a graceful lean. Sipping on her cup, she looked unbothered as she spoke.

"Want to tell me what's wrong yet?"

"Fuck off, Xocthl," Lovou grumbled, feeling positively sorry for himself, for everything.

"Gods, you're a bore." Xocthl grumbled.

"Wouldn't have imagined you as such a dreary little bit—,"

Lovou cut the expletive off by driving a dagger into the table quicker than a flash.

Xocthl wouldn't have been much irritated, except for the fact that her hand was coincidentally on the same part of the table Lovou's knife impaled. The blade dug about two digits into the wood between the last of her five fingers.