Chapter 27
“Mate-Intended, how did you get the king to agree to us dressing you?” Yiti asked.
Tewewh pulled in material here and there, no less curious than Yiti, but certainly less courageous.
I considered my answer, but mentioning his guilt over giving me an unintentional orgasm would lead to further questions. “I have my ways. What of the head tailor?”
“Exiled,” Yiti said in displeasure. She’d wanted him dead.
My brows rose. “Unexpected.”
“For us too,” she answered.
I expected that Carmine had gauged my eagerness for the tailor’s demise. “This way he will live in the torture of his fall from favor.”
Yiti paused, then smiled, “Yes, he will. That will be great torture for a demon of such vanity.”
If only I could figure out the ultimate torture for Carmine. We’d used our power and smoke in the bedroom before, but I’d never guessed how sensitive I’d be to it now.
One little touch.
I didn’t want to admit that Carmine was as surprised as I’d been, but I knew he’d been taken aback too.
His guilt had earned me an entire day without seeing him. Our deal was off, so I’d trained in the dirt garden, not attended the war council, and also had skipped the banquet last night.
All without “consequence.”
Yet here I was in a dress fitting for my joining gown. There was no way that I’d go through the intention ceremony now.
Perhaps after winning Tiers, I could set the dress alight for the crowd to see. They’d enjoy that.
Yiti and Tewewh worked in silence, and the purple demon obeyed the soft direction of the handless blue.
Tewewh was diligent in her work and strove for perfection, but Yiti held the true genius.
Instead of being jealous, though, the purple was content to piggyback on Yiti’s talent.
They’d formed the perfect demon friendship. “Who is head tailor now?” I asked.
Tewewh answered with a name, and when I tilted my head, she added, “She’s a red. Not bad. Not great. Yiti turned it down.”
Yiti dipped her head. “I would prefer to design for you, Mate-Intended. In fact, I had hoped to show you a finished garment. One to wear in the final round of Tiers.”
She walked to a pile of fabric and extracted an outfit from beneath it.
I pulled a face. “I don’t wear nipple string.”
“Not nipple string,” she retorted, then held the garment up. “The top does cross over your breasts and under your ribs. The skirt appears like a strip of material wrapped around, but it is one piece, and you will find it neither rides up nor restricts your movement.”
Really? One kick to the jugular would flash my demon goods to the crowd. That was if my tits didn’t wave hello. “You can leave it here. I’ll consider it.”
“Try it on, and you’ll feel what I mean.”
The words were almost, almost an order. I raised a brow, and Tewewh hushed a warning at her friend.
Yiti seemed to recollect who I was. She curtsied hastily. “If you like.”
My shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “Is it your passion for design that overrides your senses?”
She shook her head. “No, Mate-Intended. I am color blind.”
Huh! “That’s… fascinating. No color at all?”
“Never.”
I glanced at the fabrics. “How the hell do you design clothing?”
“My magic tells me what I need.”
And her vision robbed her of the ability to identify a powerful demon at a glance. Wonderfully, that had also gifted her a defiance that now made complete sense.
Before I could ask, Yiti said, “I classify demons by their posture. Crimsons and reds… walk a certain way.”
As if they had a stick up their ass? “I imagine.”
“How does a demon of black scales walk?” I asked.
She smiled. “As if she could be a yellow or a crimson. As if she is a hunter and a ghost. As if she will kill anyone who gets in her way.”
I rubbed my chin. Accurate.
Tewewh was watching on with bated breath.
“That will be all,” I told them, reaching for the dress I’d been wearing.
They packed up their things in silence and left after their curtsies. I’d just fastened the last button over my chest, when he filled the doorway. He’d been waiting for them to leave.
“Syera,” he said.
I was faced away and stayed that way. “What do you want from me today?”
“Nothing except to speak to you.”
“That’s how it always seems to start. Like the time you clapped me in chains and dragged me through the fortress.” I didn’t turn.
“That was… regrettable.”
I could think of other words for it. But did I expect that I could yell fuck you in the demon king’s face without consequence? No. Worth it, in my opinion. No one would forget my defiance, and that meant something.
Carmine cleared his throat. “I wanted to say that yesterday was unintentional. Had I known, then—”
“You would have bullied me in some other way,” I said, finally facing him.
He inhaled and didn’t look at me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m great. Now that you’ve asked, you can go about your day without guilt.”
Carmine closed his eyes, then opened them to meet my gaze for the first time.
“Syera, the distance between us is… I wish that we could return to what we once were. Please tell me how that might be possible. I want my mate beside me. I want to stop hurting you all the time. If there is a way, then I will do whatever I can to get there with you. But please put me out of this turmoil.”
I gaped at him. His turmoil? Distance? What we once were? He must be fucking joking. He must be.
I continued to gape as he awaited my answer. I couldn’t even laugh. There wasn’t any returning to what we’d been. What we were had been based on his lies anyway.
Chains one day, and heartfelt pleas the next—he was insane.
Whatever this rare begging and guilt-ridden version was, there would always be that ice lurking under the surface, ready to rise up at any sign of challenge.
Carmine was broken goods, a monster, and I wasn’t enough to fix him at sixteen, and at twenty-one I had no intention of fixing anything about him.
Whatever had happened to him in the dungeon was irreversible. There was no key to unlock his cell.
Crack.
I felt the rip inside my mind. I strode to the bed and lay down on my back. “You don’t want a solution, Carmine. You want my surrender, remember? That’s what you were saying yesterday.”
In my devastation and rage, lust still considered this a ripe time to pop her head up. I batted her away.
“Yes,” Carmine said at last, and the tightness in his voice—and his trousers—was plain. “If that is the only way forward, enamai, then I will accept your surrender, yes.”
“We’d better get to it then.” I lifted my hips and wriggled my underwear off, then hitched my skirt to spread my legs.
I propped up on my elbows in time to see Carmine’s wide-eyed stare as he fixed on the part of me that had tortured him for three years.
His grip on the doorway turned brutal, and stone cracked and crumbled. At this rate, none of the fortress would be left, or he’d need to hire every stonecrafter in the realm.
Carmine closed his eyes. “Not like that, Syera. You are only doing this because you’re angry.”
No shit. “But this is me surrendering,” I whispered. “Think how warm I’ll feel? You know the mating will make me wet. And you don’t need to worry about my feelings. You didn’t yesterday. You can just worry about how good your cock feels as it slides in and out.” Carmine inhaled and groaned.
“You can smell that I’m ready.”
Stone crumbled to the ground, and he whirled to turn away, shoulders heaving.
I closed my legs and sat. “Anything else you’d like to chat about?”
I’d won this round. I’d need to train for five hours to shake off the lust, but I’d won.
Carmine glanced back to inspect me through a cooled gaze. Just one whisper from ice. “There is. Our intention ceremony will move forward to the evening after Tiers.”
I crossed my arms. Like hell it would. “The deal is off.”
“Complete the next ritual, or I will drag you to the dungeons to watch your sister die.”
My stomach didn’t pulse a warning, but I’d proceed with caution. The dungeons were the last place I wanted him to drag me. “Without her alive, I’ll never agree to more rituals with you.”
Carmine turned back. “Correct as usual, my cunning mate. I should torture her instead. That is what you will watch each time you seek to deny our mating.”
I said nothing. You can assume that I’m trapped for now.
Athira was right when she said the dungeons were Carmine’s weakness. He remained afraid of them. If I could ever feel sure of my power over him, that was where I’d lock him for the rest of his days.
Though I’d never be so stupid.
Carmine had to die.
I smiled, imagining decapitating him. “I look forward to our joining, Mate-Intended.”
His gaze narrowed, but he bowed in response. “As do I, enamai. I will leave you in peace.”
He must mean “in pieces.”
When Carmine had turned to leave, I called, “While you’re here, I do have a matter to speak with you about.”
If I discussed this with him now, I wouldn’t need to see him later. A girl could dream.
Though he’d paused, he hadn’t faced me.
I said, “The red in Tiers. He has agreed to meet an easy death by my hand if I can secure some protection for his widow and son after he is gone. His parents didn’t like their mating, and they have hounded the young family since in petty revenge.”
“Why don’t you just tell the red you’ll do so, then forget the matter?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Do you know what the word honor means, Carmine?”
“I do. I relinquished the notion long ago.”
Sometimes his voice gained this ancient echo—a weariness that spoke of deep scars.
“How long ago?” I asked despite myself.
He turned to consider me, then answered, “When I became king.”
“Your subjects must rejoice in such a king. But no matter, my honor is not relinquished, and anyway, the red no longer trusts me after I failed in my attempt to heal his son.”
“You wish to protect the mother and son.”
I licked my lips. “The son will not live long, but until his death, yes. He and his mother. They can protect themselves, but not against such targeted spite from powerful reds.”
Carmine’s interest piqued at that. “What powerful reds?”
“The wardens at the outskirts of the realm,” I answered. Owu and his mother were in hiding. Tomorrow or the day after, Owu would “die,” and his mother would return to their home to go on. I had to set things in motion now, especially if Carmine soon discovered Tempest’s escape.
Carmine entered the room. He sat on the bed beside me, and tension flooded my body. The action felt too familiar. And half of my mind was fixed on five minutes prior when I’d spread my legs. My underwear was on the floor.
“Syera, do you have any personal experience with these wardens?”
“No.”
“If they have ever exploited you in your years away from me, then nothing will save them. Tell me if that happened.”
Understanding dawned on me. “You think I made a deal with them to remain hidden all those years?”
“They dwell closest to the desert.”
Athira had warned me that he knew the location of my hideout. Well, that I’d hidden in the desert, if not the exact location of my hideout. My new plan hinged on the hope that he no longer had any need to search the desert. Then Adeuto and Owu would be safe.
“I have never dealt with them,” I told him.
His gaze burned into mine. “That is surprising considering that they monitor all comings and goings from the desert.”
They did so poorly. Lazily. There were large gaps in their system that many exploited.
Carmine added, “If I find out you have concealed the truth, they will be crushed, and you will know the regret of lying to me. Until that time, what do you envision for these wardens?”
“I’d like to visit them and let them know that the yellow and her son are under my protection. That should suffice.”
The demon king hummed, and my comfort was rapidly evaporating because this interaction felt like discussions we used to have. The way we would support each other. Offer genuine advice. Listen. Share the burden.
Carmine shook his head. “They could easily take offense. We are not fully mated.”
“Does it matter if they take offense?”
“No one else with enough power wants to warden the outer realms. So yes. They know their value.”
Dammit. “No one would replace them?”
He pursed his lips. “Not without difficulty. I will go and put your yellow and her son under my personal protection.”
And also check the truth of what I’d said.
“If that’s the best way,” I replied.
I did not want him that close to my son. Fuck.
Carmine studied my face, which I kept carefully blank.
“It is. In this,” he said. “Most are more easily swayed and controlled. Consider this a ritual gift.”
“For me? You shouldn’t have.” The sarcastic words were out before I could think better of them.
“I shouldn’t have done many things when it came to you.” Carmine stood. “I celebrate the times when the path is clear, for decades in uncertainty have shown me that clarity is rare.”
And with that cryptic comment, the demon king left at last.