"Thank you for removing the spell," I say.
"Anything for a beautiful lady such as yourself," he says, his black eyes holding my gaze with a level of intimacy that is beginning to make me uncomfortable. I get the impression this man can have anyone he wants, whenever he wants.
Fen drapes a protective arm around me, and I roll my eyes, but I don't pull away.
Sly looks at us both and smiles. "There must be some terrific story in this. I will insist on hearing all about it. But first, let us fix this state you're in." He wrinkles his nose delicately in distaste at our appearance. Probably at our smell, too. The waterfall helped slough off some of the dungeon grime, but not all.
Sly pulls a black wand made of bone and crystal out of his robes and studies us a moment. He then snaps his fingers and grins. "I have it now. Stand still, you three. This will only sting a moment."
Before I can object, he waves the wand over us and mutters an incantation of some kind in a dark language dripping with magic. My body burns, and Fen stiffens next to me but doesn't move.
I bite my tongue to keep from crying out as the magic digs into me. There is smoke, light, pain, and then it all disappears, and the three of us are no longer dripping wet. We are dry, but not just dry, we are all wearing new clothes, and my body is fresh and clean—even my teeth. I look down at my dress in admiration. It's long and dark with feathers cresting my shoulders and chest and a silver crystal pendant hanging at my throat. On my head sits a crown of crystal and silver. Fen is dressed in black leggings and tunic, a fur cloak emblazoned with a silver wolf hanging from his shoulders. Dean is draped in black silk, his chest mostly exposed, of course.
Sly claps his hands. "Much better. You are all dressed properly for your stations. Now come, join me for a drink. Tell me what you want, and I'll tell you what it will cost."
Sly leads us through the large room, greeting each guest by name with a smile and a witty quip. He's the epitome of charm and style and everyone either loves him or has a very healthy respect for him, it seems. He looks quite human, save the black eyes that look like pits to hell—well, the dungeon part of hell at any rate.
When we pass the mermaid swimming languidly in the spacious water tank built into the wall, she places a hand on the glass. Behind her, beautiful fish and sea flora decorate the chamber. Her voice echoes through some kind of speaker system. "Fenris Vane. You haven't come to see me in ever so long."
Fen glances at her, frowning. "Hello, Marasphyr."
Sly stops to watch the exchange, a knowing grin playing on his lips.
Marasphyr smiles, her sharp teeth making her beautiful face much more sinister. "Want to come swim with me, Prince? I've missed you."
Fen glances to me, then back to the mermaid. "Afraid my swimming days are over."
Dean chuckles. "I'll come play, sweetheart. I'm a lot more exciting than my brother, I assure you." He winks at the mermaid, who hisses at him.
"Seems I'm not the only one your charms fail to seduce," I tease, a grin tugging at my lips.
"I never fail, Princess. I have the patience of the immortal. I always get what I want eventually."
Fen nudges Sly in the shoulder until the demon continues escorting us to wherever we are going.
"Who's she?" I ask as I increase my pace to catch up. Now that I'm dry and properly—if extravagantly—clothed, I'm starting to feel the pain of my injuries more.
"An old acquaintance," Fen says gruffly.
"Is that what we're calling past dalliances these days?" Dean asks. "I'll keep that in mind."
I have so many questions. The most pressing is actually one of biology. How exactly does one have a 'dalliance' with a woman who's half fish?
Sly stops again and opens the door to a parlor, escorting us in. I table my questions about the mermaid who was clearly more than an acquaintance, and look around. This room is more subdued than the flamboyant hall we were just in. It's got floor-to-ceiling bookshelves of rich mahogany lined with mostly leather-bound books, a desk in one corner, and a couch, two overstuffed chairs and a love seat in the middle with a fireplace crackling to the other side.
I walk to the bookshelf first, admiring the selection of titles, until I come to a section with modern covers of scantily clad men and women. Sly joins me and smiles. "I see you've discovered my greatest treasures," he says.
"Your books?"
He pulls a novel out and admires the image of a woman being embraced by a topless man. "Romances. I just adore them, don't you? The love, the drama, the scandal when propriety comes head to head with good, old fashioned lust. Extraordinary."