And fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
She returns the knives to their sheaths and plants her hands on her hips. “Did you really think taking the extra time to shove me out of theway was smart when you know I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself?”
I don’t bother holding back my grin. She knows what it does to me when she sasses like that, and Gods I’ve missed it. “Do you really think talking to me like that is smart when we’re so close to the village?” I lean in, letting my voice drop. “Because I’d love nothing more than to bend you over my knee.”
She tries shoving me, but her bright eyes are begging me to test her. “Don’t say that! I don’t want my mind in the gutter when I meet everyone.”
“Oh little mate, everyone’s mind is in the gutter; we’re demons,” I say as a giant wall comes into view.
Ronin told me they built a wall around the village, but I honestly didn’t expect it to be so impressive. We don’t have the machinery humans do, so every stone had to have been placed by hand. Rocks of every size are wedged together, along with bones and crushed pieces of skull, a tar-like substance holding it all together. The wall stands about twelve feet tall with several guard posts positioned along the top. Two large torches flank an even larger door, its petrified wood bound together with jagged scraps of metal.
Horns blare as we approach the gate, letting the villagers know a visitor has arrived. “Identify your—” The gruff voice pauses, turning into a chuckle. “Well, look who it is! You finally decided to grace us with that ugly mug of yours.”
The demon flashes us a welcoming smile, though half his lower jaw is missing, leaving his teeth permanently exposed on one side. Frankie smiles back without hesitation, like it doesn’t faze her at all.
I smile at his greeting. “Hoddar? They got you up here away from the others, I see.”
“Yeah, Macen couldn’t stand me being such a distraction to the ladies, so he put me on the wall.” He gives a hand signal to someone below, and soon the giant doors creak and groan as they open.
A slight ache settles in my chest as the village comes into view. I’m here. I’m almost afraid to believe it, but there it is, right in front of me. I grab Frankie’s hand, bringing it to my lips. “Are you ready, Melita?”
Her gaze finds mine, fingers brushing my cheek. She studies my face, searching for something. “I was about to ask you the same thing. I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”
I take her in, my beautiful mate, always so selfless. Here she is in a dangerous realm, and she’s worried about me. I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but Gods, I’m glad she’s mine.
“Complicated,” I admit. That’s the closest I can get to explaining it. Coming back here after twenty years and seeing with my own eyes that my sacrifice wasn’t for nothing…I don’t know, it does something to me.
“Everything with you is complicated,” she teases, a warm smile on her face as she tugs on my hand. “Come on. Let’s do this.”
The wind dies down almost immediately once inside the walls, making it easier to breathe. Frankie pulls down her balaclava and glances around. The scent of iron and the clink of metal welcomes us. Houses made of obsidian and deadwood sit right inside the wall, and not far from that is Fairhaven. My home.
As we approach the village, Frankie raises a finger, pointing to a cluster of tents. Stalls are set up with makeshift tables full of dried herbs and textiles. “Is that the marketplace Ronin was telling us about?”
“Must be. None of this was here before, only the well and a few scattered huts.” And everyone thought Macen’s idea for trading goods with the Mortal Realm would never work. Now villagers are bargaining with merchants and trading goods with one another. I don’t know why he doesn’t claim the title of Overlord. He’s the best leader this realm has.
A group of children stop playing once they spot us. None of them move, not even when a ball bounces to the ground and rolls away. Instead, they all stare wide-eyed, their little nubs extending from their heads, a few of them already growing fangs.
One finally points at me and stutters, “W-w-wings.”
Their faces light up and they take off running through the marketplace, their little legs carrying them as fast as they can.
“It’s him!”
“The Emberlord!”
“He’s here! He’s returned!”
My step falters. I wasn’t expecting…this. Surrendering to Aradon was the only way to protect our horde, but a part of me felt like I failed them. There was no guarantee Aradon would’ve kept his word, and I left them without a commander.
But standing here, young demons playing without having to fear for their lives reminds me how grateful I should be that for whatever reason, the bastard did keep his word.
I finally move, shifting my weight and adjusting my sword to distract from the stares. Voices now carry through the marketplace, whispering like I’m some sort of hero. I don’t like it. All I did was surrender.
Frankie squeezes my hand, her expression caught somewhere between pride and mischief. “Should I be calling youEmberlordinstead ofsirnow?”
“Thought you weren’t going to call mesiranymore,” I tease.
Before she can fire back, a demon with tattoos spiraling up his horns appears, dropping to one knee. “Emberlord,” he says. “It’s an honor.”
