A screech that tore through his chest shot Relnoi awake.

  “Mamama mama ma mam.” The crying voice called. Relnoi rounded the little wall to see the woman her deep brown hair falling past her shoulders in a night dress that hung off her shoulder lifted the sobbing child into her arms. He buried hist tear and snot covered face into the covered shoulder.

  “Hush love. I’m here. I’m here.” She breathed so gently and began rocking him and singing softly. In this scene he could forget the very existence of the Demon King. Because the little one who’s breathing even and slumped against the woman didn’t look anything like Zenfar. Zenfar even from what Relnoi remembered as a child always had an edge of a snake waiting to strike. Never did he look so vulnerable as to fall heavily asleep in anyone’s arms.

  Yet here Oriol was like a rock.

  Eshta carried him to her bed sitting on the edge.

  When she looked at Relnoi there was a weight in her eyes.

  “He’s always seemed to have nightmares… I wonder if they’re memories.” She thought with a soft and thoughtful compassion that surprised him. She turned laying Oriol down curling around him. Relnoi pulled one of the seats from the other room and placed it in the corner. He fell back into it.

  Eshta didn’t argue so that’s where he stayed for the rest of the night.

  The next morning Relnoi fell under the command of Eshta as she dictated how things needed to be packed. It seemed she was a near expert on how to get things from one location to another. Oriol zipped around the room excitedly.

  “Go? Go now?” He asked excitedly. Eshta laughed.

  “He likes going places.” She offered as explanation to him before turning to Oriol. “We still have more things to pack. Do you have your bag ready?” She asked him. Oriol’s bag was a pouch with trees and leaves embroidered on it and what he packed into it was a baby blanket that got stuffed, a set of blocks, a wooden box and what looked like a sock.

  “All done! Go?” He asked.

  “Almost.” She promised. “Get your coat and shoes.” She called as she focused on a one bag in particular that was filled with mostly Oriol’s things. Oriol zipped around looking under things until he fell on his butt and pulled out one shoe. He zipped again until he found his coat then again until finally he had all three things.

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  When it was finally time to go. Oriol was bouncing then though when Rolnoi stepped out with them the little boy stared at him.

  “Let go.” He stated taking Eshta’s hand ignoring him.

  “We’re going with the nice man.” Eshta told him. Relnoi raised his brows at Eshta at the same time Oriol furrowed his brows.

  “Nice?” He asked looking at Relnoi like it was the last word he’d use to describe him. Eshta turned and looked Relnoi up and down.

  “Is there any reason I shouldn’t think of you as nice?” she asked him. Relnoi shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant way. He did what he had to do in order to survive and to stay as far out of politics as he could.

  That mixture gave him a strange relationship with the King of Demons. Relnoi was the previous King’s youngest illegitimate son. Zenfar had been the oldest son of the previous King’s eldest illegitimate son. Making the current Demon king and this two-year-old version of him technically Relnoi’s nephew. Despite before being turned into a baby Relnoi and Zenfar were about the same age.

  Because the previous King had left no official heirs, or even legitimate children it began the battle for secession. A battle which Zenfar dominate killing all in the royal bloodline but Relnoi. The only reason Relnoi survive was because he had no interest in being king, no interest in anything to do with the king. So he was willing to give a meaningless thumbs up to his nephew and move on.

  So of course, the bastard named him his advisor.

  No, Relnoi wouldn’t describe himself as good. Simply knew giving his loyalty to Zenfar had been better then death.

  Relnoi was surprised when traveling with a two year old version of the demon king was easier then traveling with the adult version.

  Both threw tantrums. The adult version could destroy half a village before he calmed down. The toddler was to small to really destroy anything important. The adult version would command people to no end. The toddler couldn’t make out words through his screaming. If the adult hit someone they would end up with broken bones and it was nearly impossible to move the demon king. The toddler flailed his little arms and legs smacking against Eshta whose face went from soft to stern as she lifted him and snapped him to her hip.

  “Enough. That hurts.” One set of stern words and the tantrum turned to a steady glare. The little face scrunched and he looked like he hated her in that moment. Eshta didn’t waver and didn’t look fazed. “Now if this continues, we won’t stop for denshro.” She told him. He darted his eyes away. “But if we make it all the way to the next stop with no temper tantrums, we’ll get the one that has both the chocolate and the marshmallow.” She told him. He watched the little face consider.

  “And sprinkles.” He grumbled.

  “And sprinkles.” She agreed. Oriol gave in and was noticeably calmer on the ride. He still squiggled and squirmed and attempted to pester but there weren’t any more temper tantrums. And as promised at the next stop he got his denshro with chocolate marshmallow and specifically milk flavored sprinkles.