14
I don’t remember closing my eyes. Nor do I remember dreaming. But as I blink, it feels as though I’m escaping one nightmare’s grasp. Only to enter another. Moreover, I have no idea where I am.
The dark blankets still bury me beneath them, but the oval room is filled with natural light, with no trace of the crimson glow.
The scent of anise caresses my nose; so sweet, I can taste it in my mouth.
Gray bricks surround me, coated in a dark silver sludge.
Some are breaking apart, forming hexagons that stretch up to the egg-shaped domed ceiling, as if I’m confined to a hive.
This is not the cave system, and the voices don’t resemble those found underground.
From afar, I hear the flapping of wings and birdsong. I rise.
The room is filled with books and scrolls – some neatly arranged, others in disarray. A massive, black-polished, square stone table stands in the middle of the room. The other bookshelves and cabinets sink into the walls, just like in my cell. Could this be my new prison?
I cast off the heavy blanket and step towards one of the large windows.
My eyes widen. This is perhaps the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen.
A multitude of sharply pointed mountains sprawl in the distance, as far as the human eye can perceive.
Their peaks have a blanket of snow heavier than the one that covered me moments ago.
Wispy clouds cling to the graceful summits.
I see houses in the distance, in the valley and on the mountainside. The building I am viewing from is surrounded by huge, slender peaks. As if they were columns. Below, I see only mist at the base of the fortress. I am in a tower.
I look up at the sky, its blue reflected on the dome’s emerald green covering. If this is truly my new prison, I have become a princess trapped in a tower.
“My empire.”
I curse due to a sudden noise.
Suddenly, my lips start to throb. Memories rush in as if I had indeed fallen.
I glare sharply at Darya, but my words get stuck.
The Demon King stands before me in leather trousers, shirtless.
He runs his fingers through his silver hair, from which sparkling droplets fall, slowly streaming down his sculpted chest. Tattoos cover his pale, glowing skin, as if it were a text written in an unknown language.
Only the snake on the right side and the tree on the left are recognizable to me.
The two motifs gracefully intertwine, accentuating his pleasantly bulging muscles.
His magnificent wings tower behind him, the sunlight streaming through the window sparkling on the sunset-colored membrane.
He puts his hand in his pocket, and a cruel smile forms on his lips. Heat floods my face. Darya is perfect. Beautiful. But he…
“You bit me!” I blurt out.
The Kraldem’s lizard-like smile doesn’t rise any higher – only his eyes narrow. It’s as if he’s not entirely himself. His stride slows as he approaches the bed, and he sighs heavily when he lies down. He places one hand under his nape, the other on his muscular stomach.
With his massive wings stretched out among the black blankets, I stand here, shattered.
I try to comprehend that the Demon King, who kidnaps children, breaks them, and drinks my blood, is now sprawled semi-naked in the bed where I just slept.
Finally, the Kraldem lets out a sigh and looks at me amusedly but tiredly.
“Why? Didn’t you enjoy it?” he asks.
“No!” I respond sharply. “Especially considering you handed me over to Sylla afterwards!”
“I agree, that was indeed too much for you,” he admits. “Although, I didn’t realize you’d react so fiercely. It’s a shame you missed out on the first night of the ritual.”
It takes a moment for me to comprehend what he means by this. Did I sleep through an entire day?
“You broke and transformed children into demons without me?” I roll my eyes. “I deeply regret missing out.”
Darya grins. “You’ll make up for it today. Now, let me sleep.”
“You want to sleep here?!” I exclaim.
“Can I not lay my head down in my own room?”
Is this the Demon King’s suite? And I slept in his bed?
“It seems you’re surprised,” Darya says drowsily. I imagined his room differently. Not so modest, not so human.
“I just don’t understand where your torture devices are,” I say, my tone deadpan. “I thought they made up most of your decor.”
“If you’d like to try them out, I can show you,” Darya teases, hovering between sleep and wakefulness, but then he removes his hand from his eyes and looks at me provocatively. I don’t take the bait.
“If this is your room, why did you bring me here?” I ask.
“Because this is the only place,” he says, yawning, “where no demon ever comes up. I wouldn’t have been able to guarantee your safety in your chamber during the ritual.”
I gaze at his slowly moving, magnificent chest, and examine the sleepy lines of his face. My eyes widen.
“Wait,” I start, “are you… hungover?”
Darya lets out a big sigh, and he says the next sentence in such an irritated tone, it’s as if he’s explaining something obvious to a foolish child.
“Yes, Lotte, I am hungover, as you call it. And if you don’t let me sleep for a few hours, I’ll tie you to a chair, and you can watch on with your mouth taped up. Although, that might not be much of a punishment for you.” He smirks. “Of course, you can also look at the scrolls.”
I take a step closer to the bed, infusing as much contempt into my voice as I can.
“You’re poison, Darya.”
However much I planned for the tone to be just right, only a smile remains on the Demon King’s lips.
“The books are on the left side,” he says. “Be careful with them, some of them are unique.”
I start studying the scrolls. Most of them are either boring sketches or war logs.
Zóni Polémous, Year 4501, Loss 43, captives 0.
Maavica, Year 4502, Loss 14, Captives 1.
Sometimes they describe the new tactics used in the war with the Herebias; a war that, judging from the scrolls, has been going on for thousands of years.
When I angrily slam one of the books shut, it makes too much noise. However, the Demon King remains motionless, perhaps in the deepest sleep of his life. I smile. I pick up another book from the table and drop it to the floor.
Nothing. Darya keeps on snoozing. His tattooed chest rises rhythmically.
I pick up the gold-covered book to once again slam it to the ground, when something very familiar catches my eye. The finely crafted spine and edges shine with a golden hue. I flip through it. This is the same book I’ve been reading in my bed for weeks!
My fingers immediately find their way to the drawing of Pandora. It’s on the same page, in exactly the same spot. It’s adorned with artistic letters, yet clearly handmade. How could anyone make such an exact copy without the assistance of a printer?
I head to the dark bookshelf made of pitch-black bricks.
I take down a large, brown leather-bound volume and flip through it.
Sizeable drawings cover the yellowish paper.
I first saw these creatures in ancient history books.
A three-headed dog and a hundred-headed sea monster slain by Heracles.
Lion and snake-headed monsters snarl, and cyclopes and blood-sucking harpies fight on the pages.
We learned about them in stories at home, but maybe I grabbed the book titled How to Train Your Pet in Hell from the shelf.
I check the beginning to confirm my suspicions.
Creatures of Défteros Kósmos – Beings of the Second World.
These really exist! Which one will I have to fight against?
I gaze into the blood-speckled eyes of the three-headed dog.
If I remember correctly, he always guards something.
Maybe a weapon? And what if this monster is the Demon King’s house pet?
I slam the book shut. Kripot is right. It doesn’t matter which monster I get, I have no chance.
Maybe I should make better use of my remaining time.
With this thought, I look up from my book, straight to Darya lying on the black covers. The same thought as when I was with Nathan crosses my mind.
I just go there. I’ll get what I want. A momentary pleasure. It won’t hurt. Not afterward, because I don’t care.
Although, I know this is a lie. It always hurts. Every rejection from Nathan pierced my heart, hurting more than Darya’s bite, which made my lips swollen. How well does the Kraldem sleep?
I put the book back and slowly approach the bed. My heart beats in my throat as I approach the Demon King, who sleeps so deeply next to me. How many people does he trust this much? Did he sleep like this next to Léthé, too?
I don’t even notice how close I am until I tower over him, looking down at his flawless, pale body. No, I reassure myself. He’s not human.
As I move carelessly, I accidentally bump into a black wing hanging off the bed.
I freeze, not daring to breathe. However, the Kraldem just sighs and continues sleeping.
I exhale slowly and curse. How could I be so stupid to even get this close to a snake?
I’m about to return to the scrolls when a cold hand grabs my wrist, and a moment later, I find myself among the black covers. I desperately try to break free.
“Let me go!” I shout, striking at the Demon King, but he easily restrains me.
“If you stay calm, I won’t bite you,” Darya says, too vividly for having just woken up.
“This isn’t fair! Let me go!” I shout.
“Why did you come here?” Darya’s eyes are close to mine, too close. I feel the fiery scent of his breath. Without thinking, I respond.
“So I could strangle you in your sleep!”
The Kraldem’s face darkens and his eyes’ deadly glare overwhelms what’s left of my fighting spirit.
Only now do I realize what I’ve done. I threatened the king of demons.
Sometimes I forget who Darya really is. My palm becomes moist, a drop of sweat trickling down my neck as Darya pins me onto the bed.
Thanks to Sylla, he knows how to break my soul. My hatred for him is replaced by fear.
“So much better,” says the Kraldem, and his face breaks as quickly as before, when fear slid up the back of my neck. His lizard-like grin brings forth my anger once more.
“I love it when you’re afraid!” he adds, and now I realize how much he enjoyed frightening me earlier.
“You asshole…” I mutter.
Darya closes his eyes, and with a demonic smile, he embraces me. He pulls me tightly to him, causing me to blush all the way to my ears.
“Just five more minutes!” he grumbles, and immediately drifts back to sleep.
The Demon King’s cold breath evokes the secret corners of vast limestone caves.
His arm sinks deeper into my side, and for the first time, I feel warmth where our bodies meet.
I want to touch his face, but I hesitate.
This man is a killer. He’s not even a man, but a monster – the king of demons.
The more convincing the arguments are that I repeat to myself, the weaker they seem.
I should feel hatred, but I don’t. Desire rises within me.
I need to escape from here – these feelings suffocate me.
However, at my next slow movement, the Kraldem pulls me so close that every possible part of our bodies touch.
My head rests on his bare chest and my lips brush against his cold skin.
Every muscle in my body tenses, and it stays that way for a while.
Then I relax. I don’t feel the fear, I don’t feel the terror anymore. I know this is a dangerous game, but I lose myself in Darya’s chest. I inhale the scent of deep caves, and as I rest my forehead against his pale skin, I let his steady heartbeat lull me to sleep.