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"The best place to discover the desires within peoples' hearts is to go to a place where hearts are worn upon their sleeves," Quiquan says, sitting in the cart she hired.

"Sounds like that's too easy, miss," M'Goreh says, sitting on the opposite side, crossing one leg over the other. "You gotta think deeper, more repressed. You gotta mess with people who aren't expecting it."

Quiquan sighs, slipping out of her seat. She opens the door and scurries along the coach's top, sitting among the scantily-packed luggage section. M'Goreh floats up through the ceiling, floating beside her, sitting back, crossing one leg over the other, resting his head in his hands.

"Driver," speaks up the kobold, standing up, hands behind her back.

The driver stops, turning around to face her. The older gentleman is robust, balding, and has a fantastic mustache. An orc, if Quiquan wasn't mistaken.

"What's the matter, miss? Whatcha doin' outside yer seat? Somethin' wrong?"

"Oh, there's nothing wrong," Quiquan says, scratching her snout. She glances over to M'Goreh, who chuckles a chest-filling laugh. "I was just wondering if you could let me into the city without the guards finding out about me."

"Wot? That's a breach of the carriage and coach rider's union!" the driver protests. "I can't possibly do that."

Quiquan flicks a finger forward.

M'Goreh snickers and lands on all fours before her, his eyes glowing. "Ooh, how fun," he says, licking his lips.

The driver yelps, pulling on the reigns and gripping his whip tightly. "Cooor, what is that thing!"

"And here I thought you made yourself invisible," says Quiquan.

"Only when it is convenient," says the demon. He stands up but changes as he does. His arms and legs elongate, and his slightly stocky build becomes thin, gently curvy, accented at the hips and the chest. Crimson hair grows wild down over his shoulders and covers his eyes. When he's done, while he still has his horns, M'Goreh has transformed into a much more submissive-looking creature, whimpering, crying out, and falling off the coach, curling up in the ground.

The driver shudders, gulping and stepping closer. "Pardon me, muh-miss," he says, "but what is going on here?"

I'm figuring out your dream of helping a distressed individual. One that is pretty." She says this, sitting on the edge of the coach, crossing a leg over the other.

"It's a trick then?"

"It's an opportunity—one to play out the desires of your dreams. Isn't that lovely?"

The orc gulps. "And if I indulge…?"

"Then you've made an accord with me.

"Oooh, someone please help me," says M'Goreh, his voice the same but tinged with so much pain. "Wouldn't a big, strong man nurse me back to health?"

"It won't take my soul, will it?" the driver says, scrambling toward M'Goreh.

"No. I won't let it, even if it wanted to. We want to fulfill your fantasy. The price is what I've already asked for."

"The gate. I can hide ya well enough.

"Good, it shall be well worth it."

The demon pulls his hair up over his eye, the red thing glowing. "The pact is sealed. Hide my mistress first, and then we can play out your fantasy.

"No," says Quiquan, uncrossing her leg. "I think I shall enjoy watching this."

She sits on the edge of the coach, gripping onto the railings, watching as the driver approaches the demon, the fake damsel in distress. He scoops up the creature in his arms, holding him close.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Now that you're here," responds M'Goreh, draping his arms over the driver, leaning in, pressing his soft chest against the fully clothed barrel, and kissing his cheek.

Quiquan watches, smiling at the sight.

The driver disrobes himself and returns the kisses of the one he had rescued.

What a curious sight it is. Tik Tik has written about the physical interactions between people as they fornicate. Her desires are full of lurid displays—discussions of fluids, sounds, and actions. But what Quiquan notices is the feelings on display—the weakness, the letting down of the guard, and the sinister gleam that M'Goreh supplies to both his partner and to her.

With this power, Quiquan can do anything.

When she first summoned the demon, Quiquan was afraid that he would take her, destroy her, and consign her soul to hell. But now, with the fact that they have made, she realizes that this is not the end but the beginning of some great trip that will take her beyond simple wizardry. One day, perhaps one day very soon, she can face Tik Tik. When this day comes, maybe that wizard will finally realize that Quiquan isn't a complete and total waste of time and a failure of a kobold.

No, Quiquan is a master of a demon, and with that power comes the ability to reshape the Dragon's Heir beyond anything she had ever imagined.

After all, does not the queen harbor a demonic child within her egg?