"There's no such male," Sabine said without hesitation.
"I wonder. Maybe he's so firmly on the side of good that someone from the Pravus can't tempt him."
"Are you doubting my skill as a seductress?" Hettiah had already publicly challenged her. "How about a side wager, then?"
"I'm game. If you can't seduce him in the next week, then I get your finest headdress."
Made of the rarest blue and white golds, Sabine's most treasured headdress was winged, arching back over the ears, with gossamer strands of gold cascading over the front.
Sabine had stolen it from the Queen of Clairsen-tience, along with her ability to touch objects and read their history. It had been a root power, and they'd fought to the death for it. But ultimately, Sabine had given the clairsentience to Lanthe, admitting to herself that she'd truly only wanted the headdress.
The sisters didn't wager gold lightly. Their mother had often rubbed sovereigns against her face as she lovingly said, "Gold is life! It is perfection! Band it in armor over thy heart and never will thy life's blood
part."
But Sabine couldn't lose this bet. She was Rydstrom's fated female. "And when I win, you have to go without sex for a year. Maybe then you'll have more sympathy for my plight." At Lanthe's disbelieving look, she said, "Yes, I said a year. You know that the piece is of equal
value."
Lanthe cast her a pained expression, but said, "Very
well, you have a wager."
Just then, Sabine's captive muttered in Demonish, his firm lips parting around each rough syllable.
"Then run along. I want to be here alone when he awakes once more."
When Lanthe had gone, Sabine climbed upon the bed beside his waist, tilting her head as she studied him up close. His horns fascinated her, how they curved back around his head and were mostly smooth, but had ridges toward the base. His thick hair could cover them almost completely, so he would be able to go out among humans, where many demons couldn't.