My blood ran cold, the temperature in my veins dropping so abruptly it felt as though someone had replaced my circulatory system with ice water.
I began to sweat despite the chill, moisture beading at my temples and sliding down my spine in trails that made my dress cling uncomfortably to my skin.
A sinking feeling took hold of me, the kind of stomach-dropping sensation you get when you realize you’ve made a catastrophic mistake and the consequences are about to unfold in real-time, my face twisting into an expression of genuine surprise that I couldn’t suppress even though I knew showing that much emotion was tactically stupid.
Then the realization hit me with the force of physical impact, pieces clicking together with almost audible snaps as I began to shape my understanding of the situation.
Willow. Of course it was Willow.
That nervous expression back in the theater, the way she’d been hiding behind Grisha like a frightened child despite normally carrying herself with confident poise—she’d told Grisha about the ruby’s functions, had somehow revealed what it could do, and was now terrified that Grisha would come after me in pursuit of its power, that I’d blame her for the leak, or both.
The chain of causation was so obvious in retrospect I wanted to kick myself for not seeing it immediately when I’d spotted them in that hallway.
I began to laugh then, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest despite the situation’s inherent danger, because I could already see where this conversation was headed and the sheer absurdity of it struck me as darkly hilarious.
Of course Grisha had learned about the ruby. Of course she wanted something from me involving it. Of course this entire evening was going to spiral into territory I absolutely should’ve anticipated but somehow hadn’t.
The drinks arrived then, delivered by Thorn with efficient grace despite the massive mugs he carried—actual tankards that looked more appropriate for construction workers than drinking vessels, filled to the brim with ale that was so dark it appeared black in the tavern’s firelight.
Grisha seized hers with one massive hand and took a swig that would’ve been several swallows for a normal person, her throat working as she downed what had to be half the contents in one continuous pull.
She slammed the tankard back onto the bar with enough force to make the nearby glasses rattle, released a satisfied sigh that seemed to originate somewhere around her knees, and turned her full attention back to me with an expression that balanced amusement and hunger in ways that made my survival instincts start sending increasingly frantic distress signals.
"Here’s the thing," she began, her voice dropping into a register that carried beneath the ambient noise and somehow made the words feel more intimate despite the crowded space around us. "I want you to use that ruby on me. Specifically, I want you to give me a cock. A real one, not some magical construct or illusion but an actual functioning equipment that I can use for as long as the magic holds."
I blinked, thrown off balance by the directness despite having known this was coming. "Why?" The question escaped before I could consider whether asking was wise. "You’re already—I mean, you don’t exactly lack for sexual options or partners. Why would you specifically want male anatomy?"
Grisha leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar in a posture that somehow made her seem larger and more imposing despite reducing her height.
"Because I’m tired of always being the one getting fucked," she said bluntly. "Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy it, I’m good at it, and I’ve built half my reputation on being able to take anything anyone wants to give me and ask for more. But there’s a power dynamic in that, you understand? A hierarchy where no matter how strong I am physically, no matter how much I could snap my partner like a twig if I wanted, the fact that they’re inside me puts them in a position of control that I’m getting fucking bored of."
She picked up her tankard again, taking another substantial drink before continuing. "I want to know what it feels like from the other side. Want to be the one doing the penetrating, the one driving the rhythm, the one who gets to watch someone else take what I’m giving them and react to my movements instead of the reverse. Want to experience that specific kind of dominance that comes from having someone wrapped around my cock instead of me wrapped around theirs."
Her eyes locked onto mine with uncomfortable intensity. "And yeah, maybe there’s some psychological shit there about reclaiming power or whatever, but honestly? Mostly I just want to fuck somebody into unconsciousness and watch them try to walk afterward, and for that I need equipment I don’t currently possess."
The honesty was almost refreshing in its crudeness, and I found myself nodding along despite the increasingly graphic nature of the explanation.
"That’s... actually a pretty reasonable motivation," I admitted, reaching for my own tankard and taking a drink that burned going down but settled warm in my stomach. "And it explains why Willow looked so nervous. She knows you want this and probably told you about the ruby without fully thinking through the implications of giving you that information."
"Smart girl, that one," Grisha said with obvious affection. "Panics easily though. Probably thinks I’m going to hurt you to get what I want or that you’re going to hurt her for telling me in the first place." She laughed, the sound carrying genuine warmth. "Neither of which is happening because we’re civilized people capable of negotiation and mutual benefit, right?"
I reached into my boot—my favorite hiding place for valuable objects because apparently I’d decided that was my signature move—and pulled out the ruby on its silver chain, holding it in my palm and letting the firelight catch in its depths and throw back reflections in shades of crimson that seemed to pulse with their own internal rhythm.
The weight of it felt heavier than its actual mass, like it carried the density of possibilities and consequences compressed into physical form.
I contemplated the choice stretching before me, running through advantages and disadvantages with the part of my brain that still functioned analytically despite the alcohol beginning to warm my blood.
This was actually a perfect opportunity, I realized. A chance to secure Grisha’s cooperation and instruction while also satisfying her desire in ways that cost me nothing except my time and effort.
If giving Grisha what she wanted meant gaining access to the advanced enhancement techniques she’d learned from Mavus—knowledge that could dramatically increase my survival prospects in the conflicts ahead—then the exchange was weighted heavily in my favor.
I clutched the ruby tight, feeling the metal of its chain press into my palm, and met Grisha’s amber gaze with as much confidence as I could project.
"I’ll agree to use this on you," I said clearly, making sure she heard every word over the ambient chaos. "But only if you do something for me in return. Fair exchange, mutual benefit, all that civilized negotiation you mentioned."
Grisha raised a single eyebrow, the gesture somehow conveying both interest and challenge. "I’m listening."
"Teach me advanced enhancement techniques," I said, laying out my terms with deliberate precision. "Everything Mavus taught you about pushing incarnic magic beyond basic limitations. I need to become stronger—significantly stronger—and I need it fast because I’m about to walk into situations where being clever won’t be enough if I can’t back it up with actual power."
Understanding flickered across her features, followed by what might’ve been respect. She laughed then, throwing her head back with the motion, her voice booming across the immediate area.
"You’ve finally figured it out! Took you long enough!" She slapped the bar hard enough to make Thorn glance over with concern. "Yeah, I’ll teach you. Been waiting for you to ask, actually. Watching you stumble around with those baby enhancement techniques has been painful—like watching someone try to fight with one hand tied behind their back and wondering why they keep losing."
Relief flooded through me, warm and almost intoxicating, but before I could fully process it Grisha’s expression shifted into something more serious, her amusement fading into focused attention that made the air between us feel charged with significance.
"I figured something else out too," she said, her voice dropping lower and carrying an edge that made my instincts scream warnings. "About your particular gift."