Amalek sat coiled around the throne, his wings wrapped around his body. It was long past midnight. I’m so glad we have this chance to talk, he whispered.
Aurelius Antipater looked up at Amalek with scorn. He sat below the throne, his wings spread wide. As if you gave me a choice.
There is always a choice, said Amalek, if one is willing to suffer the consequences. You could have just flown away. I’m happy you didn’t.
You want to kill me yourself? asked Aurelius. Is that it?
No, Aurelius, said Amalek. I don’t plan to kill you at all.
Aurelius gave Amalek a sharp look. What?
I know, I know, said Amalek. You take it as an insult. If I don’t kill you here and now, it means I don’t respect you enough to remove you as a threat. I hope you won’t take it that way.
How should I take such mockery? asked Aurelius.
Our kind, said Amalek, are defined by our enemies. Great enemies make for great times — times of genuine challenge.
Amalek looked deep into Aurelius’s eyes and said, I miss my old enemies. I would hate to lose a new one I’ve just made.
So I’m supposed to serve you now? asked Aurelius. You expect me to carry out your will?
Not at all, said Amalek. The least I can do to salve your wounded vanity is banish you from the kingdom. I consider you that dangerous, at least.
I’m flattered, said Aurelius with disdain. And should I conquer a new kingdom, raise an army, and come for you?
I look forward to it, said Amalek. Goodbye, Aurelius Antipater.
Aurelius left before sunrise. He flew south.