Free Demon's Fire by Emma Holly

his people’s way to pine, and nonetheless he didn’t look away. Buttercup was as lovely as ever, slightly eccentric in her pale blue salwar kameez . The local-style silk tunic and trousers showed off her body’s curves. She was rounder than the human woman from the marketplace; shorter, as well. The comparison put him strangely off balance. Buttercup would never fit the Yamish ideal, but to Pahndir’s eye she was as succulent as a spring cherry.
    Her obvious admiration for his place of business made him gladder than he should have been that he’d spared no expense.
    “You think I’m insane, don’t you?”
    He hadn’t meant to blurt out the question. He certainly regretted it when she turned to him in surprise.
    “Why would I think that?”
    “Because I’m running a brothel. Because if you and Cor hadn’t saved me, I’d still be trapped in one myself.”
    She smiled, an expression he wasn’t used to seeing on a Yamish face. “On the contrary, I don’t find your choice odd at all. What better way to reclaim your power than to put yourself in charge of this? I know you treat your employees well.”
    “I frighten them. Not deliberately, but I do.”
    Her lashes lowered. Human blood notwithstanding, his confession had made her uncomfortable.
    “Come,” he said, deciding he’d better let this drop. “The tea is ready. Sit and tell me how your offspring are.”
    That topic made her laugh outright, a wonderful, sunny sound. The tea table was a traditional Yamish furnishing, built low to the ground in glossy black and gold lacquer. Buttercup eased herself gracefully onto the matching brocade cushion.
    “The twins are into everything, everywhere. Someone has to watch them every minute, or they turn the house upside down. Whenever they misbehave, Cor calls them my children. I swear, he makes me wish I were Bhamjrishi, with a harem of handsome husbands to keep them corralled.”
    The words were scarcely uttered before a flush washed across her face. She pressed her hands to her mouth. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”
    “It doesn’t matter,” he clipped out before she could go on. “We both know who your harem’s first volunteer would be.”
    “Pahndir.” She reached across the table, not touching him but offering to. Pahndir stared pointedly at her hand until it drew back. Her eyes lowered then, and her hands folded in her lap. His coldness had shamed her for her sympathy. Despite his action being completely proper, that shamed him even more.
    “You’re very careful, aren’t you?” he said.
    “Careful?” Her head came up cautiously.
    “Never to say things like that around me. Never to agree to meet me when I’m near my heat. I wager you know my sexual cycle better than I do.”
    “I doubt that,” she said, her face still and serious. “I doubt anyone knows you that well.”
    Oh, she could cut a man to his knees with her human frankness. It was true no one knew him, true that she was his only real connection in the world. Pahndir set down his cup and rose. His feet took him to the window. Despite his crew of cleaners, its glass was hazed with sand-colored dust. Taller than the craftsmen who had fashioned it, Pahndir reached up to trace its peak. The ornate layers of stone were lobed like a lotus flower. Behind him, Buttercup spoke.
    “If seeing me hurts you, I don’t have to come.”
    He refused to look at her. He didn’t want to know if her expression was as kind as her tone.
    “I want to see you,” he said stubbornly. “You’re my friend.”
    “Yes,” she said, and let out a near-silent sigh.
    The sound goaded him into straightening his shoulders.
    “We will have our tea,” he said briskly, returning to the table. “You will tell me about your life, and I will listen.”
    Buttercup’s mouth quirked in a tiny smile. “You remind me you are a prince after all.”
    He wondered if he ought to apologize for seeming to give her an order, then decided not.
    “I am better,” he