The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 136: The So-Called Fox Queen

Clad in the filmy silks that her underlings had seized from lowlander estates, Sphaera Algarum stretched on her new lounge. To the demons who attended upon her, and to the dinner who cowered in a corner of her pavilion, it was a seductive motion that showcased the lines of her body. She, however, knew that it was because she just could not get all her tails comfortable on a lounge designed for humans.

How did the older fox spirits manage it? In her youth, she'd served a seven-tailed fox queen. How had she arranged her tails? At the time, Sphaera had taken the pose for granted, but now she wished she'd paid closer attention. She'd spread her two outermost tails to either side, and they trailed gracefully down the sides of her lounge. But the next two tails in were trapped under her rump, and her central tail was a lump under her back. Not only was it giving her a backache, but the tail itself was growing numb.

How had Flos Piri, the greatest of them all, managed this posture with such perfection? All the paintings depicted the nine-tailed fox lounging serenely as adoring demons knelt around her to offer up gold and jewels and tender, succulent human babies. Flos Piri's tails had never gone to sleep under the weight of her own rear end. Sphaera was sure of it.

Well, this might be a terribly impractical position, but it didn't matter. Flos Piri had lounged, and so all fox spirits after her would lounge. No matter how miserable and cranky it made her lesser sisters.

Lifting a pale, slender hand, Sphaera extended it towards her current favorite, a gazelle demon in human form. A most magnificent pair of horns swooped back from the crown of his head. At her gesture, he immediately walked forward on his knees to sink down next to her hand and kiss it.

She admired his horns for a moment before she addressed him in a low, throaty voice. "How long until we reach the capital, dearest?"

At the term "dearest," the gazes of the watching demons sharpened. No doubt the gazelle would be ambushed as soon as he exited her pavilion. If he survived that attack, he'd be challenged to duels over the next week until he stood victorious over the bodies of his rivals, or lay broken under their paws. Nothing like a little – or a lot of – bloodshed to enliven this long, tedious, dusty trek east.

The gazelle shot the jealous demons a triumphant look before he bowed his head to Sphaera. "It will not be long now, Radiant Majesty. Another day shall see you on your rightful throne."

Almost there! Almost to the capital of South Serica! Her heart thrilled at the thought of an end to this journey at long last, and she trilled a light laugh. "My 'rightful' throne, you say?"

The gazelle's smooth, handsome face betrayed confusion. "Yes, Radiant Majesty...?"

"Oh no. No, no, no. My 'rightful' throne."

She laughed harder, the rest of her courtiers joining in a heartbeat later. Of course, most of them were laughing less because they understood the source of her mirth, and more because they were savoring the gazelle's humiliation and possible fall from grace. But that was as it should have been.

Under the onslaught of scorn, the gazelle bowed his head until his nose touched the floor.

"Ah, oh!" she gasped, stopping at last.

A rosefinch handmaiden flew forward and offered her a handkerchief with which to dab her eyes.

Smiling a cruel smile at the assembled demons, Sphaera asked, "If it were my 'rightful' throne, what would be the point of seizing it? No, I want it because it is not mine."