Chapter 16
Oziel
In the early hours of this dreadful morning, I’m summoned to the servants’ quarters. A purple-haired demon had barged into my room, a frantic gleam in her red eyes. I recognize the maid as Lola, one of the demons I assigned to attend to Isabelle before our wedding ceremony three nights ago.
Even now I feel Isabelle’s presence in her quarters, tossing and turning in her bed with unsettling dreams. Dreams are little more than secrets yet to be uncovered, and I yearn to uncover everything my wife hides.
Starting with the reason she came here. Knowing what I know about Isabelle, she wouldn’t have made this deal if the alternative wasn’t unbearable.
My shadows surround Lola and me, transporting me to the part of the castle I rarely go to.
The servants’ quarters are located in the north wing of the castle, scarcely decorated with trinkets found by demons and frigid temps that seep deep into your bones.
Some demons prefer the cold. I’m not one of them.
“Here, my lord.” Lola quickly shuffles away, and I follow.
We aren’t alone. A few demons all wearing various expressions of concern greet me.
Few remember protocol and bow deeply, almost reluctantly.
Disgust and uncertainty radiate off them, proving to me that my people are growing agitated with me.
Then there are ones that barely register my presence. I soon find out why.
Lola stops abruptly, an anguished wail erupting from her body before she drops to the floor weeping.
Her display of emotion is foreign to me, casting unease around the room.
I step around her to get a better look at what has this maid so distraught.
Standing only a few feet in front of us is a blue stone statue of my head maid, Greta.
“Lucifer Rising,” I curse under my breath. Greta’s frozen expression is her usual sour self, showing no indication that she knew the curse was upon her. Like a thief in the night, it snuck upon her, robbing Greta of her physical being.
“When did this happen?” I growl, looking down at the sobbing demon on the floor.
Lola doesn’t answer. Another demon walks up behind her, and I recognize her as Greta’s shadow, Paulina. “Upon the hour. We came and got you as soon as it happened,” she explains. “She was mid-sentence before the curse took effect.”
“Were there signs?”
Paulina shakes her head. “None.”
There had been warnings in the past. Each demon experienced a tightening sensation, fear or pain forever etched in their stone features. Greta is the first I’ve heard to not experience either of these sensations. Which means the curse is progressing, and I’ve nothing to show for it.
“Take her out with the others,” I bark at the closest demons.
They heed my order, pushing aside Lola and Paulina to carefully maneuver Greta into the courtyard.
The courtyard was once a place of beauty, but now it holds nothing but reminders of my failure.
I place the statues there to force myself to look upon them every day and never forget what I’m fighting for.
I storm out of the maids’ quarters, caught up in my thoughts, and don’t register Garvan until the man is only a foot away from me. “What?” It comes out more bitter than I intend, but Garvan shows no emotion. He’s used to my mood swings at this point.
“King Rip and King Allarick have arrived, my lord,” Garvan says, eyeing the commotion behind me. “Oh, dear. Another. This is very concerning.”
It takes everything in me not to wring his neck for pointing out the obvious. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would make me feel a lot better.
With the wedding ceremony and dealing with yet another cursed demon this morning, I forgot I requested the presence of the other kings.
I note King Malix is absent, filing it away to use against him later, even though his wife is pregnant.
Now isn’t the most ideal time for a meeting with the kings, but I don’t wish to put this off any longer.
It’s hard enough to get these bastards together.
“Get my wife,” I command Garvan.
“I will go to her. What if she refuses to come?”
“Must I do everything on my own?” My face contorts in frustration. “I don’t give a fuck if you need to drag her naked, screaming through the halls. Bring. Me. My. Wife.”
With a tick to his jaw, Garvan lowers his head in submission. “As you wish, my lord. Miss Sinclair will be by your side soon.”
Turns out my wife didn’t need to be dragged naked and screaming into the throne room.
I was only mildly disappointed by that. I wouldn’t have minded seeing her naked flesh on display, making the other kings squirm and stew in their discomfort.
Instead, she wears a crimson-colored dress that fans out around her hips, looking like a waterfall of blood.
She is a sight to behold. Even with her nose upturned in my direction and the permanent scowl she seems to reserve only for me.
It’s quite romantic, really.
“Kitten, you are a beautiful nightmare,” I say as she fluffs out her skirt, taking a seat next to me.
“I know.” She sits back and crosses her arms. “Who are these kings we’re meeting?”
“King Alpha Rip from the wolf kingdom and King Allarick from the sea kingdom,” I say.
“Wolves and sea people. This place is strange,” she murmurs to herself. Then, louder, she asks, “Are either of these men married to Erin Goodwin?”
“I suppose we’ll find out.” Though I know the answer to that.
I make it my responsibility to learn the names of the humans the kings took.
Names hold power, as does knowledge. I fear if I tell Isabelle that Allarick is married to Erin, the true purpose of our meeting will be forgotten in favor of Isabelle demanding a presence with the Kraken queen.
“You will introduce yourself as my queen. These kings must see you as their equal.”
I expect Isabelle to argue with me, but instead she nods. “Queen or not, I am their equal.”
A satisfied smirk touches my lips. “That you are, Kitten. Don’t forget that.”
Her lips quirk up at the edges as she meets my gaze. Something passes between us. Understanding? Possibly. But there’s more. A molten need to be close to her.
My gaze dips to her red lips, remembering the kiss we shared only days ago.
It affected me more than I wish to admit.
She made me yearn. Yearn for more of a taste of her.
It’s a feeling I’m not accustomed to, nor one I like.
I’m used to taking what I want, but Isabelle is a closed book.
She gives me glimpses of her pages yet hides her secrets.
But I hide mine too. Secrets have a way of breaking people.
Perhaps we can be broken together.
The door swings open, and I drag my gaze away from Isabelle. She goes to stand, but I place a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back in her chair. She shoots me a reproachful look, but I simply shake my head. “You do not stand for men. They stand for you.”
Isabelle freezes, lips parted as if she wants to say something but then thinks better of it. She nods once, sitting back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other.
King Alpha Rip walks in first. He’s a large man and has to duck to get inside the doorframe. Next to him is a similar-sized Black male, scanning the room. I should have guessed Rip would bring his second.
King Allarick comes in next, his locs tied back neatly.
Behind him, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair enters, sword at his hip.
His age is deceiving, and I would bet he’d hold his own in a fight against younger warriors.
Seems to me like these kings don’t trust they’re safe meeting with me without their lapdogs.
What I don’t see is their wives.
“Oziel, it was a surprise to get word from you,” Rip says in a way of greeting. His eyes flicker down to Isabelle, and something akin to jealousy and possessiveness flares to life within me. He doesn’t linger on her long before his attention is back on me. “You don’t reach out.”
“Consider it your lucky day, Wolf.” Rip huffs, causing me to chuckle. “May I introduce my wife? Queen Isabelle Sinclair.”
Isabelle eyes the men warily. “Pleasure to meet you,” she says, though her tone suggests the opposite. “Where are your wives?”
It’s a question I’d love to hear the answer to as well. “Yes, Rip and Allarick, where are your wives? Or do you always make decisions without their consent and input?”
My words earn me a growl from Rip and a disapproving stare from Allarick. I don’t fear the Kraken king here. There are no fish to do his bidding. Rip, on the other hand, would be a fun fight, but I didn’t call them here for bloodshed. At least, not entirely.
“It’s not every day we are summoned by the demon king. You’ll understand why we’re cautious,” Allarick says.
“Enough of this. Oziel, tell us why we are here. What is it you need to discuss with us?” Rip, ever the impatient dog, barks.
I gesture at the seats in front of us. I only provide two, so their guards are forced to stand behind them. “I wish to speak with you both about our new problem. The Nephilim.”
At the mention of the creatures, both kings stiffen.
“What curse befalls your kingdom?” Allarick asks.
“Ah, that’s not why we’re here.” Though, if they entered through the courtyard, they probably have a good understanding of what my people are dealing with. “Have you trapped a Nephilim?”
The furrowed brows tell me everything I need to know, even before Rip shakes his head. “No. We were too busy killing them.”
“We didn’t deal with Nephilim. We had a Leviathan problem,” Allarick admits.
I raise a brow, making a mental note to do research on Leviathan later.
“So, neither of you tried to communicate with them?” I ask.
“Communicate? Absolutely not. Why would we try to communicate with them?” Rip asks, his temper getting the best of him. Such an emotional wolf.