RULER
Book Three of the First Plane Trilogy
The hunched and twisted little demon bent over, one unmarred hand clasping a glass vial of pale purple liquid. Sloshing accompanied a counterpoint of low moaning rising from the emaciated demon half-conscious on the slab bed. I held myself very still in the chill air of the cell as Portlish, the nectar cook, tipped the vial over Rameranselot's lips and allowed the thick stream to pour, mist swirling from the mouth of the bottle, between his parched lips.
My thick, black fingernails dug into the palms of my hands in the effort it took not to lunge forward and knock the cook aside, to protect the demon I loved from more t*****e. Because it was t*****e, plain and simple. Every dose of the newest attempt at an antidote Portlish tried to create end
