The throne room was bigger than anywhere Fitz had been in his life. With striking black walls that absorbed the light from the flaming throne, the whole building was fit for a king. Many kings, even.
But instead of a king, a young boy sat on the flaming throne.
"Well well, you're not the usual face around here. Tell me, what would a living man like you want with little ol’ me?"
"Please, sir, I'm here for my fiancé, nothing more."
He waved his hand, sharpened black nails glinting in the flickering firelight. "Ah, no need for those pleasantries down here! Not in the den of vice itself. However," he added, flashing a sharp toothed grin, "I'm always up for a little game."
"Game?"
"Well, you used to be a gambling man, were you not?"
"I — I mean, I still am. I gamble, I mean. I'm quite good at it."
The boy clapped his hands, faint sparks shooting from his fingertips. "Oh, isn't that perfect! You know, I see why you and Aaren got along. He was quite the gambler too. Let's hope you can back your claims better than he could."
And for that one, horrible moment, all he could focus on were those two, sickening words. He was.
"What did you do to him?"
"Do to him?" The boy laughed, a sharp harsh sound, that trailed like fingernails down his skin. "Friend, friend, who do you take me for? No, he merely lost our little game! But you won't, will you?"
Fitz couldn't tell whether that was a challenge or an invitation.
"What's the price?"
"The price?" The boy seemed surprised, almost delighted even, as he hopped down from his flame-crowned throne. "Well, if you win, you'll get your little lover back. Isn't that tempting enough? Don't tell me you want more."
"And if I lose?"
The boy's grin, impish in the way it warped his face, widened. "You share his eternal debt. Meaning you stay down here until you can pay it off." He laughed again, the bright sound of childish joy so out of place amongst the smell of cigarette smoke and sin that wrapped the glowing city in a smothering blanket. "Well, if you pay it off. Not many can."
"If I'm stuck here . . . will I see him again?"
The boy walked over to the window, staring out at the never-ending city in front of them. "If you can find him out there, sure. Otherwise — " He just shrugged, leaving the vague threat hanging in the thick air.
Fitz pressed a hand to the glass, feeling the heat that snaked its way up his hand, stinging like nettle. He could only barely see a few figures, ashy faces lined with what could only be decades of stress and fatigue, stumble their way down the littered street, only to slump down amongst the collection of cigarette stumps, still weakly flickering with life. Any one of those figures could be Aaren. They could even be himself.
The boy looked at him expectantly. "So? What'll it be?"
Fitz continued to stare, wistfully, into the city that was unable to sleep. His voice was barely a whisper. "Fine."
The boy clapped his hands together, a deck of cards appearing in his waiting grip. "My man! Oh, this'll be fun. What are we playing? Poker? Blackjack? Baccarat? I could even set us up some pai gow, if that tickles your fancy."
He eyed the cards apprehensively. He didn’t trust the bright-eyed boy to not cheat or scam, not in a hall that reminded him of all the sleazy casinos he used to visit. Where he learned to trust no one except the man standing next to him, dry martini and a loving grin in hand. Aaren.
Fitz dug through his pockets, pulling out the first thing he could find: a single, gleaming quarter. "We toss a coin."
The boy's smile flickered, if only for a second. "It's not everyday someone risks their love on a coin toss."
"It's not everyday someone risks their love at all."
The boy laughed. "Too right about that. It's about time people spiced things up around here." He got up and shook Fitz's hand, and it was like shaking hands with fire. Fitz had to stop himself from wincing. "Fine then. Heads or tails?"
Fitz took one long look at the silver coin, running his finger over its edge. "Tails."
The boy gave him another one of his sharp-toothed grins as a table sprung into existence between them. "Good. I wanted heads."
Unease crawled in Fitz’s stomach, but what could he do? The thought of Aaren forced him to smile back. He brought his hand up, the coin slipping from between his shaking fingers into the air. He had to shut his eyes as he waited for the sound of metallic ringing to fill his ears. He was too afraid to look. But he had to eventually.
And when he did, the coin's gleaming head stared back at him.
But instead of a king, a young boy sat on the flaming throne.
"Well well, you're not the usual face around here. Tell me, what would a living man like you want with little ol’ me?"
"Please, sir, I'm here for my fiancé, nothing more."
He waved his hand, sharpened black nails glinting in the flickering firelight. "Ah, no need for those pleasantries down here! Not in the den of vice itself. However," he added, flashing a sharp toothed grin, "I'm always up for a little game."
"Game?"
"Well, you used to be a gambling man, were you not?"
"I — I mean, I still am. I gamble, I mean. I'm quite good at it."
The boy clapped his hands, faint sparks shooting from his fingertips. "Oh, isn't that perfect! You know, I see why you and Aaren got along. He was quite the gambler too. Let's hope you can back your claims better than he could."
And for that one, horrible moment, all he could focus on were those two, sickening words. He was.
"What did you do to him?"
"Do to him?" The boy laughed, a sharp harsh sound, that trailed like fingernails down his skin. "Friend, friend, who do you take me for? No, he merely lost our little game! But you won't, will you?"
Fitz couldn't tell whether that was a challenge or an invitation.
"What's the price?"
"The price?" The boy seemed surprised, almost delighted even, as he hopped down from his flame-crowned throne. "Well, if you win, you'll get your little lover back. Isn't that tempting enough? Don't tell me you want more."
"And if I lose?"
The boy's grin, impish in the way it warped his face, widened. "You share his eternal debt. Meaning you stay down here until you can pay it off." He laughed again, the bright sound of childish joy so out of place amongst the smell of cigarette smoke and sin that wrapped the glowing city in a smothering blanket. "Well, if you pay it off. Not many can."
"If I'm stuck here . . . will I see him again?"
The boy walked over to the window, staring out at the never-ending city in front of them. "If you can find him out there, sure. Otherwise — " He just shrugged, leaving the vague threat hanging in the thick air.
Fitz pressed a hand to the glass, feeling the heat that snaked its way up his hand, stinging like nettle. He could only barely see a few figures, ashy faces lined with what could only be decades of stress and fatigue, stumble their way down the littered street, only to slump down amongst the collection of cigarette stumps, still weakly flickering with life. Any one of those figures could be Aaren. They could even be himself.
The boy looked at him expectantly. "So? What'll it be?"
Fitz continued to stare, wistfully, into the city that was unable to sleep. His voice was barely a whisper. "Fine."
The boy clapped his hands together, a deck of cards appearing in his waiting grip. "My man! Oh, this'll be fun. What are we playing? Poker? Blackjack? Baccarat? I could even set us up some pai gow, if that tickles your fancy."
He eyed the cards apprehensively. He didn’t trust the bright-eyed boy to not cheat or scam, not in a hall that reminded him of all the sleazy casinos he used to visit. Where he learned to trust no one except the man standing next to him, dry martini and a loving grin in hand. Aaren.
Fitz dug through his pockets, pulling out the first thing he could find: a single, gleaming quarter. "We toss a coin."
The boy's smile flickered, if only for a second. "It's not everyday someone risks their love on a coin toss."
"It's not everyday someone risks their love at all."
The boy laughed. "Too right about that. It's about time people spiced things up around here." He got up and shook Fitz's hand, and it was like shaking hands with fire. Fitz had to stop himself from wincing. "Fine then. Heads or tails?"
Fitz took one long look at the silver coin, running his finger over its edge. "Tails."
The boy gave him another one of his sharp-toothed grins as a table sprung into existence between them. "Good. I wanted heads."
Unease crawled in Fitz’s stomach, but what could he do? The thought of Aaren forced him to smile back. He brought his hand up, the coin slipping from between his shaking fingers into the air. He had to shut his eyes as he waited for the sound of metallic ringing to fill his ears. He was too afraid to look. But he had to eventually.
And when he did, the coin's gleaming head stared back at him.