Ursula plucked her glass from the table. “Doesn’t speak well of you, does it?”
Viking slapped the table. “I said, we’re not to make a scene. Honestly, ladies. Who is the real enemy, here?”
Budsturga’s face was incredulous. “What in the heavens are you talking about? The oneiroi?”
Viking leaned in, whispering, “When was the last time you saw a woman fight? Our husbands say we must do as they say because women are weak.” She gazed right at Ursula. “But Ursula is proving them wrong. If they are wrong about Ursula, maybe they’re wrong about all of us.”
Goth Princess crossed her arms, practically pouting. “What makes you hate your husband so much, anyway?”
Viking shrugged. “I hate yours, too. He is a monster. But Hothgar is the one I have to live with. You see this?” She pointed to the purple bruise on her chin. “That was because I lost a bet on the melee.”
Budsturga stabbed her talon into a canapé. “Men are brutal, yes. Best avoided.”
Viking turned to Ursula. “Surely Bael is different. He’s unmarried. But I’m told he does like women. Is it true what they say about him as a lover?”
Ursula cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know. We train together. That’s it.”
The furrow in Viking’s brow suggested she didn’t believe this. “Of course, ladies of the Shadow Realm would never bed a man before marriage. But I assumed a woman such as yourself...” Her sentence trailed off.
Ursula’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t realize demons had rules about sex before marriage.”
“Not all demons,” said Goth Princess. “Only the nobles of the Shadow Realm.”
Ursula nodded. “And let me guess. It only applies to female nobles.”
“Of course,” said Budsturga.
Viking leaned in close. “It really doesn’t seem fair. We should get to try them out before committing. The first time I kissed Hothgar was at our claiming ceremony. It was a horrific disappointment, but by then it was too late.”
Ursula took a sip of wine, nearly too engrossed in the conversation to notice the waiters bringing bowls of steaming mushroom soup. “What’s a claiming ceremony?”
Viking slurped her soup. “It’s the ceremony when a husband claims his wife. It is the one tradition the warriors of Nyxobas adopted from the oneiroi. And because it comes from the beasts, it’s positively savage.”
Ursula shook her head. “But what is it?”
Budsturga stabbed another crudite with her talons. She’d have a hell of a time eating soup. “When a warrior claims a woman, they exchange rings. Then, the contract is sealed with a public display of lust. Nothing too far, Nyxobas wouldn’t allow that. But the warrior must show sexual domination over his woman.”
“As you can imagine,” the Princess sighed, “Abrax took things a bit far.”
“It’s a marriage ceremony?” asked Ursula.
“More like an engagement,” said Budsturga.
Viking’s cheeks reddened. “Hothgar proposed in Asta’s spire, then forced his tongue down my throat in front of the other lords. He ripped off my top. Frankly, that was the last time he showed any interest in me, and that was over a thousand years ago.”
Goth Princess shrugged. “Men only want what they can’t have.” Her dark eyes slid to Ursula. “The forbidden flesh. And yet you’re telling us Bael has no interest in you?”
Ursula’s cheeks warmed. “Apparently not.”
Viking wiped the soup off her chin, staring at Goth Princess. “Asharoth. Why does your husband hate Bael so much?”
Asharoth—apparently, that was her name—cocked her head. “He is the son of a god. He demands worship. And Bael has never been sufficiently submissive. His role as Sword of Nyxobas always rankled Abrax.”
Viking threw back a long gulp of wine. “Hothgar isn’t even a demigod, and he demands worship. You should see the inside of his temple.”
Ursula ate a spoonful of her soup. This sounds good. “And what would I find in the inside of his temple?”
Viking giggled. “We can’t always get humans here in the Shadow Realm. They simply die so easily. But when we run low on human slaves, Hothgar has his dolls.”
Ursula leaned in over her soup. “What does he do with his dolls?”
Viking held her hand to her face, whispering. “He gets drunk on vodka, and uses his magic to animate them. He has them bend down to worship him, calling him Nyxobas. One or two he declares to be heathens, and he crushes them beneath his feet.”
“And the whole time,” added Budsturga with a wicked smile. “He has his lunar staff out.”
“And I thought my husband was perverse,” said Asharoth.
Ursula’s lip curled. “And you’re not allowed to have any fun with other men while your husbands do whatever they want?”
Asharoth’s jaw dropped. “Of course not.”
Ursula sipped her wine. “You ladies are getting a raw deal.”