Master of One

by Jaida Jones

The sorcerer continued, “We’ll kill you if you don’t agree to our proposal.” “I agree to your proposal,” Rags said.

I love him already

The corpse, being dead, had no answer.

“What does it mean?” the fae asked, beginning to diligently clean the blood from Rags’s right palm with his hair. “‘Pissing balls of fucking fire’? Is it your name?”

“My apologies to have confused you for someone else.” Rags searched the fae’s tone for signs of sarcasm but found none. “You who have awakened me have my respect and my loyalty. I would know you. What is it that you are named?”

Oh i love him

“I wish you’d been a pile of gold,” Rags muttered. “Would’ve made my life easier.”

“Allow me to offer my clothing to ease the discomfort,”

Bro what

Rags grinned. “It is good to see you smile,” Shining Talon murmured. Rags stopped grinning immediately.

Much how an alley cat feigned aloof dignity after an embarrassing fall.

Later, Rags rode up alongside Cab and asked if he thought sheep were evil. “Not particularly,” Cab replied. “You’re wrong. They are. You can see it in their eyes,” Rags insisted.

Cab-my-heart,

“Pissing balls of fucking fire!”

I love Rags swearing

handsome bafflement,

“Sure,” Rags found his voice. Grateful for the distraction. “Shining Talon here likes nature stuff. Might as well let him hug some trees.” “Trees,” Shining Talon said, “do not like to be hugged.”

Now that Shining Talon wasn’t looking for him constantly, his silver gaze had become more precious than gold.

“Say that to my face.” Rags tilted his chin up, breathlessly defiant. The furrow of confusion in Shining Talon’s brow slung a jolt of heat low through Rags’s belly. It also brought him to his senses. Whatever he was entertaining, he needed to stop. Shining Talon took him too seriously, followed his whims too completely. “I am saying it to your face,” he replied.

Oh no theyre adorable

Rags rubbed his chest. Caught Shining Talon watching him. Stuck out his tongue. “In my time,” Shining Talon said, “we did not allow our tongues to be free of our mouths so carelessly. Often the windlings would snatch them for their private collection.” “Don’t know what a windling is.” “Yes. I slew the last of them.”