I, on the other hand, have no qualms about showing my interest in my wife. “This image of you will be seared into my mind. The only thing that could surpass your beauty in this moment is if your dress waslying at the foot of our bed, with you naked in my arms.”
“Oziel,” she hisses, the dark red hue of her cheeks deepening. She glances behind me at Garvan, embarrassment radiating off her. It’s cute when she’s flustered. I find I quite like it.
“Allow me to make sure preparations are going smoothly.” Garvan bows, wisely taking his exit.
“And bring the pixie prisoner up for the sacrifice,” I add.
Garvan stiffens at my requests, but nods once. He doesn’t try to argue again, knowing it would be futile. Smart man.
“I will see you both at the ball,” he says before making his way to the ballroom.
“What do you mean about sacrifice?” Isabelle asks.
“Another demon custom you will learn today.” I can tell she has more questions, but I offer her my hand. She takes it without question, and I lead her down the stairs. “In fact, I think you should be the one to sacrifice the prisoner.”
Isabelle’s only reaction is a slight rise of her perfectly arched eyebrow. “Is that so?” There’s no disgust or repulsion in her voice, just mild curiosity.
“Seems fitting for the new queen to have the honors.”
“Even if this queen is temporary?”
I come to an abrupt stop, my gaze shifting toward her. The words hang in the air, more of a reminder than a statement, but whether it’s meant for her or for me, I can’t be sure.
Every fiber of my being loathes thethought of her leaving. The very idea feels unnatural, like trying to sever something vital from my soul. And yet, I know all too well what love can do to a king. I’ve seen it unravel empires and turn sovereigns into martyrs. But the longer I’m around Isabelle, the less I care for all the reasons I shouldn’t. Perhaps we could convince the kingdom that Isabelle and I together aren’t a weakness.
However, I refuse to let my parents’ fate be ours. I refuse to see us torn apart, slaughtered by the very people we are meant to rule. If there’s any way to spare Isabelle from that destiny, I will find it. I will make certain of it.
“Even then,” I say, walking again. Isabelle falls in line beside me.
“Is this pixie a bad person?”
“Would the answer matter?”
Isabelle nods. “Of course it matters. I won’t kill an innocent.”
“No one is innocent, Kitten.”
“Maybe. But some people are inherently better than other people. I won’t kill a person who is trying to do good.”
But she has no problem putting to death a man who deserves it. Nor will she show any regret or remorse. It’s the perfect quality in a queen—even a temporary one. So I tell her the truth. “This pixie is the worst of its kind. The worst of his crimes, though, are the crimes he committed against his family. He tortured his children for days until their bodies were broken beyond repair. He forced their mother to watch them die one by one, then tortured her mind and body more, before ending her too.There’s nothing but hatred in his heart, and he’s far past redemption for what he did to his family. He deserves to die.”
Isabelle’s chin lifts, her eyes blazing with newfound resolve. There’s no hesitation, no wavering, only the steady burn of determination settling deep within her gaze “Then I will do it,” she declares, her voice clear and steady. She takes a step closer, shoulders squared, as if bracing for the weight of whatever is to come. “Show me what I need to do.”
Chapter 26
Isabelle
The grand ballroom stretches before us, a cavernous expanse of polished marble and flickering candlelight. The towering arched windows with their intricate latticework cast delicate shadows upon the gleaming floor. The soft light of the moon filters through, bathing the chamber in an ethereal glow.
It’s both romantic and unsettling knowing what I must do tonight.
The demons spared no expense. Dark, gilded walls with swirling gold filigree hint of opulence and celebrations before. Chandeliers of elaborate crystal and wrought iron hang from the vaulted ceiling, their candlelit flames dancing in tune to the music.
Torches line the chamber illuminating the tables of food and wine. Glasses fill one table, stacked upon one another precariously—all full, swirling with glitter lust liquid. The most pivotal weapon in our arsenal tonight.Just one slip-up, one pair of loose lips, is all we need to uncover the demon betraying us.
Demons begin to filter in. Some wear dark, glittering ball gowns, arriving on the arms of demons in full black or dark gray suits, perfectly tailored to their bodies. Then there are demons wearing clothing that does little to hide their assets, revealing the dips and curves of their bodies. Everyone looks as if they stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine, beautiful but deadly.
Tonight’s plan is simple. Oziel and I will make our grand entrance soon and start the celebration with a sacrifice—still an odd choice to start a party, but if it rids the realm of another piss-poor excuse of flesh, then I’ll sleep soundly tonight. After that, Oziel and I will go our separate ways, and he’ll use his magic to hide my features, so no one knows they are speaking to the queen. He’ll make an excuse as to why the queen is missing if anyone should ask.
