She seems to notice the shift in me because her body tenses. My hands brush against her hips, and she lets out a soft gasp.
“Lust is more common amongst my kind.”
Isabelle listens, silently urging me to go on. I narrow my eyes as my gaze flicks to the roses. “They died because of those damned flowers.” My hand curls into a fist, claws pressing deeply into my palm. “An assassination. The kingdom was on the brink of civil war, and my parents made many enemies. Enemies who saw their love as weakness. Who believed their love would be the downfall of our kingdom. In a way, I suppose it was.
“Still, my father, ever the fool, believed peace was still possible. He invited the enemy, a man who fought him at every turn, to meet in our rose gardens in hopes of converting him to an ally.” My voice turns bitter, the day playing out before my eyes. “He wanted the scent of roses to remind them of love instead of war. That peace was possible between all demons in our kingdom.”
A hollow chuckle escapes my lips, humorless and cold. Much like how I’ve felt since their untimely deaths. “But the only thing the roses did was mask the scent of poisoned blades. By the time I arrived, the garden was redder than before. I found their bodies, along with theirguards’ bodies, among the petals, their blood soaking into the earth.”
Isabelle reaches for me, fingers brushing against mine. She doesn’t take my hand, nor do I take hers. Our fingers simply brush against one another, and that’s enough. My shoulders tremble with a silent rage that has never truly faded. Something I’ll keep with me for the rest of my days and well into the afterlife.
“The scent of roses has haunted me ever since.” My gaze lingers on the bouquet in the dome. “To you, they are just flowers. To me, they are ghosts.”
There’s no pity in Isabelle’s eyes when I turn back to her. Only understanding. Then, “How did you survive?” she asks, almost in a whisper. Her cheeks go red, and she shakes her head. “You don’t have to answer?—”
“I had the blood of the king and the rage of a thousand demons,” I cut her off. “I let vengeance and my bloodlust fuel me. Killing the demons who killed my parents didn’t ease the ache of losing them, but it helped me win over important court members. My ascent to the throne was easy. They finally got the bloodthirsty king they always wanted, one who wasn’t distracted by love.”
Isabelle stays silent. I wish I could hear what she’s thinking, know the thoughts swirling around in her head right now. Her face gives nothing away. Soon her hand and body pull away from me, and she turns, slowly approaching the roses again. My body tenses, ready to pull her back if she gets too close, but Isabelle stops and runs her fingers over the glass dome. It does little to ease my worries. She’s still too close.
“My sister loved roses.” Her words catch me off guard. I’m desperate for any information about her life, even if it’s about her sister. “They were her favorite flowers. She bought them every week, always decorating our kitchen table with them. I learned to love them, despite the many times the thorns made me bleed.”
As if I needed another reason to hate roses, knowing Isabelle bled because of the thorns fuels that hatred. I may never understand their beauty, but I can appreciate that her connection to these flowers is vastly different than mine.
“Why are they glowing? Is that the curse?” She finally drops her hand from the glass.
I nod curtly. “I believe so. A petal stops glowing when it falls, signaling another has fallen to the curse.”
“Hmm.”
I raise a brow. “Something interesting?”
Isabelle shakes her head, tearing her gaze away from the roses. “Nothing, it’s just that I canfeelthe power within it.”
Before I have a chance to ask what she means, there’s a knock on my door, and a raven-haired demon walks in. Her eyes glance toward me first before landing on Isabelle. Something akin to hunger crosses her features, pupils blown wide. This demon is interested in my wife.
My lips curve up, unable to hide my smirk. I don’t know why it amuses me so much, especially since I was ready to rip Garvan’s head off for simply escorting Isabelle back to my chambers. I suppose I’m in a better mood now.
“My lord and…lady,” she purrs the last word, licking her lips. If Isabelle notices the not-so-subtle flirting, she doesn’t show it. “The wine and food for your upcoming celebration have started to arrive. Would you like a sample?”
“Our upcoming celebration?” Isabelle’s nose wrinkles in confusion. It’s rather adorable. “What celebration?”
The demon laughs, though it sounds forced. Something she does to be noticed by her queen. “The celebration of your wedding, remember? The ball is a few days away. The kingdom anticipates quite the celebration. To welcome their new queen, of course.” Again, the she-demon licks her lips as her predatory eyes roam over Isabelle’s body, all but eye-fucking her in front of me.
This time Isabelle takes notice of the she-demon’s obvious flirting and frowns, disinterested. My wife knows nothing of the lavish, debaucherous parties our kingdoms throw. Where the drinks never run dry, and the sex lasts well into the next day. Where rules don’t exist, and our bodies do all the talking. It’s not uncommon to wake up naked in between two strangers. Or more.
I still believe the ball is the best option to take note of who is in attendance and who isn’t. It’s a well-known fact that the kingdom will be enthralled with a celebration, giving whoever is poisoning the River Hel the perfect opportunity to sabotage it. Except this time, we’ll be ready.
“You said there’s wine?” Isabelle asks.
The she-demon smiles, showing off her white teeth. “Yes, my queen. I’ll fetch some for you now.”
She goes to leave, but my shadows slam the door closed, effectively stopping her. “Tell your queen what kind of wine it is.” My voice is low, unassuming.
The she-demon freezes, not meeting my gaze as she turns around. “It’s lust wine, my queen. Meant to put you in a haze of lust.”
Isabelle’s eyes widen, and she looks at me. “You’ll be serving this to everyone at the party?”
“No,” I say, and she relaxes her shoulders until I add, “We’llbe serving it to everyone.”
