called. He’s like some creepy demon sommelier. I try not to think about what he eats if a feather isn’t available.
Another dry-heave explodes out of my throat, and this time, I can’t do much to stop it.
Tazreel and Lanky are watching him intently, ignoring me as I gag. “She’s very sweet, almost too rich and decadent,” Hoggle says, still chewing, rolling the feather around on his tongue. “There’s a bitterness too that I suspect will linger as an aftertaste for some time. The combination is rare.” He finally swallows it down. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted layers like that before, and I’m the oldest of my clan.”
Bitter aftertaste? Let me out of this cell and I’ll show him bitter aftertaste. Then again, what exactly do I think I’m going to do to this guy? Flap him to death? That thought conjures the memory of my almost death by doves, and I quickly try to shove it away.
“Explain,” Tazreel orders.
“Well, there’s the expected smoky taste that all Abdicated possess, but her mother is a mystery to me. I’ve never tasted the like of it before, but we’re in luck, because I’ve been able to easily pinpoint who her Sire is.”
When Hoggle doesn’t say anything more, Tazreel’s face turns thunderous. “Spit it out.”
I can tell Hoggle enjoys keeping this Abdicated on pins and needles. It’s probably the only power exchange where he’s able to come out on top. He gives Tazreel a loaded look. “The Sire is most definitely...you,” he declares with an expression on his face like he just tossed a bomb of information at our feet. Shrapnel goes flying straight into my heart.
“What?” I shout out at the same time Tazreel bellows his own, “What!”
“Indeed,” Hoggle states with a nod.
“No. That’s not possible! I’ve sired no one in my lifetime,” he defends.
I stare at Tazreel, completely gobsmacked.
This asshole is my dad?
3
“Who sent you?” Tazreel’s screaming voice jars my ears. The sound reverberates around the spiked walls of my cell, pinning me in place.
“No one sent me!” I scream right back.
Tazreel growls like a pissy wolf. He turns and paces the dark corridor of the dungeon, his blond wings flickering in the fiery light. “This must be a mistake.”
“It is no mistake,” Hoggle assures him. “She’s yours.”
Tazreel cringes, as if the very idea of me being his daughter is disgusting. Well, right back atcha, fucker. “I already had a dad, and it definitely wasn’t you,” I say, sending a scathing look at the pompous jerk.
He ignores me and starts pulling at his hair, running his hands through the blond locks aggressively. Beside him, Lanky immediately digs into his pocket and passes over a hair comb. I’m fairly certain that it’s made of bones.
Without a word, Tazreel snatches up the comb and starts to fix his hair, while I look at him like, what the actual fuck?
“You know what this means,” Hoggle says, arching a ridiculously bushy eyebrow. “You’ll have to host.”
Tazreel grinds his jaw as he finishes his primping and passes back the comb to Lanky. “Absolutely not.”
“You must, sir. Not all of course, but the Originals for certain,” Lanky says, eyes wide. “Any time an Abdicated procreates, they must host and present their offspring to the other Nihils. It’s the rules.”
“I know the rules!” he roars back, making Lanky cower. “I damned well helped write them!”
“Well, then you know I have to report this,” Hoggle tells him. The glare he gets in return looks like Tazreel is trying to smite him or some shit. I’m really glad I’m not the recipient of it.
“We host when offspring are birthed. Look at her!” Tazreel shouts, flinging an arm in my direction. “She’s ancient.”
“Hey!” I snap. “I’m only twenty-eight years old.”
“In demon years?” he questions.
“What? No. I don’t fucking know. In regular human years.”
He stops his pacing and turns to look at me. “Human? What do humans have to do with anything?”
“My parents were human.”
“False. Your parents are demons,” the Savor intervenes. “Well, at least one of them was for certain. I can’t imagine that your mother was anything else, but I can’t say for sure. Any pixies in your menagerie?” he asks Tazreel.
“What? No. How would that even work? They’re three inches tall,” Tazreel snarls at Hoggle, who in turn just shrugs.
“I’m not one to judge what an Abdicated is into; all I know is, no humans were involved in the creation of this one,” he announces again and gestures to me.
“I’m getting real tired of you, Hoggle,” I snap at