After the slaying of Hercules, Athanor sat spacing out in his chamber, replaying the humiliation he'd suffered at that academy over and over across the past few days.
And for the life of him he couldn't work out what was wrong with him.
She was the first person who had ever humiliated him like that and then simply walked away entirely unharmed.
She was also, inconveniently, the first to ever ring a single bell inside that hollow chest of his.
So the monstrous duke of the southern reach spent night after sleepless night with her face refusing to leave him, until at last he made up his mind.
He used the one-time privilege granted to every celestial. The spell that let a man keep his eye on a single chosen target down in the mortal realm before binding them to a contract.
And the moment he laid eyes on her again, an inexplicable relief washed clean through him. So the turmoil that had haunted him for days hadn't been some passing illusion after all.
