"No," Xinying corrected, and she let the word go soft enough to be remembered. "We don't pay. We collect what we are owed, and then every so often, add a bit of interest onto the total."
She stepped closer until her knee brushed the table and the torch decided to put a ring of light under her chin.
"You came looking for a king," she continued, almost conversational. "That was mistake number four." She tilted her head, a crow listening. "People like you read the crooked maps of this city and draw crowns where there are only chairs."
He frowned, confused in his bones even if his mind had begun to understand.
"You think my husband rules the underworld," she told him, finally, quietly, the way you tell a child where the hot stove lives. "And you weren't wrong. But you missed something very, very crucial."
She watched the knowledge slide into him and catch.
"He might rule you, but he willingly submits to me."
