Chapter 6
“You trained with the crimsons today,” Carmine said, straight to the point as ever.
My heart thumped as I quickly finished binding my breasts before swiping a dress from the wardrobe at random. “I did.”
He leaned against the doorframe, blocking the entrance well and good. Forget the doorway, he filled the room just by being here. Carmine wasn’t born a king, but he exuded the quality.
The sarcastic question I’d been about to ask him faded as I held up the dress. The strapless bodice was a chest plate of velvet—a single, seamless bodice that connected into the tulip-style skirt. I… liked it.
Had hell frozen over? I liked a dress in this realm. I’d never liked demon fashion before because demon fashion was nipple string and loincloths. “Who made this?”
Carmine didn’t answer, and I hadn’t expected him to. The day he troubled himself to learn who styled a dress was the day I’d kiss that hard mouth of his.
I slipped the dress over my head and tugged the bodice over my breasts, then smoothed the waistline into place around my midriff.
The skirt came to mid-thigh, puffing out over my hips in true tulip fashion.
The dress highlighted my muscular arms and legs, while hiding the curves I’d gained in the last three years.
My strength was displayed. My secrets were hidden. I smoothed my hands over the bodice again and then trailed my fingers over the flare of the skirt. I used to love clothes. My mother had lamented my aversion to natural fabrics, too, which maguskind usually gravitated toward, my twin included.
“You find pleasure in the dress,” Carmine said in a curious tone. “You’ve never behaved like this.”
His voice jolted me to the present. My only excuse for dropping my guard was that this fashion moment had been five years in the making.
“I do like it.” Surprise colored my voice.
Carmine’s gaze slipped over my body, and I read his distaste. If it were up to him, I’d only wear underwear.
He said slowly, “I have never seen a dress like it. But I have never met a demon like you. So it is fitting.”
I laughed. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to find a compliment, Carmine.
” If this dress drove him farther away, all the better.
I was a woman of function and practicality these days, so the dress was automatically a winner.
No pockets, but that could be fixed. Unlike some people, I would track down the designer.
His gaze snapped to mine. “Why did you train with the crimsons? You never trained with them before.”
“And you wanted me to train with them back then, so what’s the issue?” I replied, leaving my wet hair to dry as it liked.
“So this is how you intend to convince me,” he purred. “An attempt to fool me into believing you care. It won’t work, Syera. I know too well how you despise me.”
My reason for training with the demons in the fortress had nothing to do with Tiers and everything to do with gaining the respect or fear of those around me.
“Yet some things must be allowed,” I murmured, pulling leather heels on.
I straightened to nearly the same eye level as Carmine. A surge of lust hit me out of nowhere as the change in angle allowed me full access to his features. I breathed through the infatuation.
“Must?” he echoed, watching my chest rise and fall. Like Gratia, he could hear a trap. He also, unfortunately, knew somewhat of how my mind worked. As different as I was and as my priorities were now, I was still me.
I smiled. “What we want as individuals must come second to the wellbeing and growth of the realm. Don’t you think?”
He stopped breathing as I brushed against his body to squeeze through the tiny gap left in the doorway.
I strode toward the ballroom. Instead of a banquet, tonight’s festivities involved a cocktail evening.
Demon royals and their festivities were the biggest pain in the ass.
They partied all the damn time. But not in a fun way.
Every night was in a different location in the fortress, but the people were the same.
They talked about the same things. Did the same stuff.
After a while, the food and music and dancing all looped around again. And again. And again.
Boring.
“Explain.” Carmine hadn’t moved from the doorway, though he’d turned as I walked away.
The second round of Tiers was in two days, and if I wasn’t there, then I’d forfeit my place and be forced to sit out the last two rounds and wait to reenter next year.
One year might not seem like a long time, but it was one more year of a ruse, one more year living a double life, one more year in his company, one more year my twin spent in the dungeons, and one year away from my reason for being. That was impossible for me.
I had to play this exactly right. This was my chance to convince Carmine.
His hand caught at mine, and I was whirled back. I didn’t hear him move.
Carmine dropped a searing kiss to the back of my hand. “Explain.”
“Remove your lips from my body,” I hissed.
He looked up, and his hold on my hand became the threat it was always intended to be.
Gray eyes, ice cold. This part of him would kill me, and the rest of him would weep at the loss.
Those two people existed in the same person, one cruel to the core, and the other a reasonable—dare I say the word—demon capable of compromise and mercy.
Explain, said his look. He wouldn’t repeat himself a third time.
Carmine had spoken of blades being forged.
Did he think that of himself? His century-long imprisonment had achieved the opposite in my eyes.
Whatever happened to him there had created this cruel monster who felt no remorse and who appeared at the flick of a switch.
If this splitting of self had happened to him down there, then my twin’s demon could be going through the same.
“There’s something you can’t give me,” I said, relieved when my voice was steady. “Something I must win Tiers to claim. When I claim this, I will become powerful in my own right. That is why I must return to the game, Carmine.”
I pulled my hand from his grip.
What I’d said was true. Also, obvious—everyone knew why demons entered Tiers. My definition of power just differed greatly from how Carmine would interpret my statement.
“You will use this power against me.” His words weren’t a question.
“Only if you get in my way.”
“You can never exceed my power, Syera. I won’t allow it.”
I’d set the trap. Now for the lure. “I will be too powerful for you to harness. My power will stand apart and serve me. That is what I seek.”
Power was everything in this realm. The king’s mate should exist to lend her power to him and his rule through the mating or her family or possessions or intelligence.
Whatever assets she had. If Tiers made me more powerful, and if Carmine could keep me under his thumb, then he would become more powerful.
In his mind, that served the realm’s best interest.
And he had no doubt of his ability to control me.
I said, “You know that I can request a lot of you if I win. More than you could justify giving me without the game.”
Carmine’s cold eyes glittered. Black ice.
One wrong move, and I’d veer off the cliff.
He blinked twice, and the coldness remained.
That suited me fine. Gratia had pulled the curtains back for me in a big way.
I’d been stuck trying to appeal to his other, calmer side, yet this was the monster who ran the show.
“Shall we?” I nodded toward the babble of conversation down the hall.
“There’s something else, my sweet Syera, is there not?” Carmine blocked my path and curled his arm around my waist to draw me close. “Do not leave me in ignorance.”
An order.
I rested my hands on his chest. “What you’re ignorant of could fill a library. We don’t have time for that.”
His hard length pressed against my stomach out of nowhere. I mean, of course the erection was attached to his body, but fuck. A small moan escaped me, and when my eyes widened at my slip, my exhale shook out of my lips too.
Fuck.
His smirk widened—all ice gone. He released me. “Enamai. Come.”
That seemed like a specific choice of word.
I’d be annoyed at myself for responding to his body, but the cold side of him had retreated as quickly as it appeared.
One little moan and a shaking exhale had convinced the demon king that I could always be harnessed, whereas my words had only raised his suspicions.
I’d need to remember that.
In this ballroom, one of three in the royal fortress, the throne occupied the center.
Two seats sat on the right and left. Demons could converse and dance around the thrones while gawking at their king and flashing him their assets.
The flashing got steadily wilder as the evening wore on.
Those who occupied the fortress liked this type of evening the most.
I’d seen and done this night one hundred times. Yawn.
I sat on my throne next to his, and waved away a yellow holding a tray of drinks.
“You’ve already eaten,” Carmine murmured, accepting a goblet. He never drank fermented beverages in front of his minions. He drank water, or golg—a sweet demon drink. “Tell me, is your grandfather a good cook?”
“No, he’s not,” I answered, but returning home for meals was part of the deal I’d made.