“Yes, Your Majesty.” Cirro bowed his head defeatedly.
The heavy golden throne room door creaked as it was heaved open. The king's brother was unceremoniously thrown out into a cold, dark corridor.
CHAPTER ONE
“You sure are pretty, y'know that?” Oriel slurred, leaning in to brush a rather buxom demon barmaid's hair from her face.
Typically, she was putty in his hands, as all women were. She blushed a delicate shade of pink and smiled seductively at him.
“She's pretty, isn't she, Lephas?” Oriel shouted over. Lephas took a swig from his flagon and rolled his eyes.
“Sure she is, Oriel. Sure.” He played along, knowing from experience that he was being dragged into this conversation whether he wanted to be or not.
Lephas scanned the crowded brothel, keeping his eyes on the patrons. The demon prince was busy whispering unknown filthy sentiments into the barmaid's ear and was far too intoxicated to care about any risks to his safety.
Lephas, as his special ops commander, was considerably less distracted.
He had known Prince Oriel since they were teenagers. The prince hadn’t had any qualms about bursting into Lephas’s mother's inn that fateful eve, announcing he was the son of the late Tennul Dawnoaken, King of Demons, and required a bed for the night.
Lephas'smother, being the old-fashioned type, had cut him a deal. Lephas had barely believed his eyes as he'd watched the prince of their kingdom do the dishes before he was allowed free board.
Oriel had stayed with them for several years after that, working in the inn to earn his keep.
The boys had been fast friends, Lephas having always been the uptight, disciplined type and Oriel being his polar opposite. Whilst Oriel got them into a fair few scrapes, Lephas didn't doubt he'd have also missed out on a lot of fun if Oriel hadn't been around.
Oriel had been there for him through thick and thin. When Lephas's mother had died, an infected wound claiming her too soon, his friend had been there beside him. Though he hadn't shown it, Lephas knew the death of his mother had affected Oriel almost as much as it had himself.
He glanced across at his friend, grimacing at the sight he was met with. Oriel had his tongue down the nameless barmaid's throat and his hand up her skirt.
A standard night for the prince. Lephas shook his head and turned away.
A ripple of unrest in the crowd caught his eye and Lephas sat up, his hand on his sword hilt hidden beneath his cloak.
“Oi! That's m’woman!” A large, sweaty demon barrelled towards them. Lephas glanced across at Oriel – the prince was still completely unaware of his imminent ambush.
His barmaid was less single than she had first let on, it seemed. Lephas rolled his eyes and got to his feet, nudging his friend as he did so.
“What?” Oriel asked, finally coming up for air.
“Incoming.” Lephas strode forward to intercept the large, angry demon. “Sir, tread carefully...”
The crowd parted and fell silent; the band stopped playing. A room full of demons curiously watched on.
“I dun care! Wha’ does he fink he's doin' wif m’bird?!” the demon yelled.
Lephas casually wiped a speck of spittle from his cheek. A heavy hand fell onto his shoulder. Oriel was at his side.
“Fuck me! She's not with you, is she?!” Oriel grinned. A vein popped in the demon's forehead.
“Oriel...” Lephas warned, putting an arm between his friend and his ugly assailant.
“Aye, she is, ya cheeky prick!” the demon roared. “I should knock y'teef out!” He stepped closer and Lephas prepared to release his sword from its sheath.
Oriel was beside him one second and then somehow in front of him, stepping toe to toe with the demon the next. Lephas gaped and attempted to get between the two men. Oriel held out a hand.
“I got this, Lephas.” He jerked his chin forwards. “This ugly fucker clearly needs reminding who he's talking to.” Oriel's wings, though folded back, fluttered ominously.
“Oh, no,” Lephas groaned.
