Chapter 27
Isabelle
My body is still abuzz with the phantom touch of Oziel.
The bastard has broken through so many of my barriers that I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever truly be free of him.
If I want to be free of him. I was so close to giving in to my desires earlier and allowing myself to kiss him. Right here. In front of everyone.
And if I’m being honest, I wanted more.
The task at hand is the anchor keeping me grounded.
A demon carrying a tray of sparkling wine walks by, and I reach for a glass.
Oziel’s words replay in my mind. I have an hour.
An hour to pretend I’m drunk on lust wine—hence the prop drink in my hand—and find out any information I can from the partygoers.
I know the moment Oziel’s magic is working because my skin heats, feeling the caress of his magic over me, hiding my features.
To anyone else, I’m just another demon. Not their queen.
Bodies upon bodies dance in a sea of demons.
A few eager couples and groups have wasted no time throwing themselves at one another, getting right to the point.
A man sits on a chair while another demon straddles his lap, moving their hips in a suggestive manner.
Behind them, another demon kisses his neck.
I never thought I would be one for voyeurism, but my body grows hot at the scene.
I can’t help but wonder if Oziel ever participated in these activities publicly?
My nostrils flare with jealousy at the thought of anyone else touching or fucking my husband.
Another part of me wonders if Oziel would ever want to play in public together like the couples around me.
Scarier still, I don’t think I would be opposed.
Something is seriously fucked up with me. My horny vagina shouldn’t be trusted to make decisions. Ever. It’ll lead me down a path I won’t know how to come back from.
The atmosphere of the room intensifies as demons grow more frenzied. Getting anyone to talk will be a challenge, as they all get drunk with lust. This room will quickly turn into one big orgy, and no matter how fun that sounds, I have a job to do and only one chance to do it.
Loud giggles echo beside me, and I turn just in time to see a group of demons walk by, discussing something about the party.
I quickly blend in, joining the group by snuggling up to a woman in the back.
She grins at me, clearly not realizing who I am, which means the shadows are doing their job.
The demon strokes my hair, a predatory nature in her touch, and I’m the wide-eyed prey.
“Pretty little thing,” she purrs.
Acting drunk—especially around a bunch of drunk people—isn’t hard. I giggle too loudly and lean against her, straining my ears to listen to the conversation happening in front of me.
“…Did you see what she was wearing?” a feminine voice asks, laughing haughtily. “You would think she made it from scraps.”
“Perhaps she did. It’s just going to come off anyway,” the masculine voice responds, taking another sip of wine. “Except her little boy toy isn’t here.”
My ears perk up at this.
“Oh, he’s here alright. He’s just otherwise occupied getting his ass fucked by her brother,” the male demon says, earning a round of cruel chuckles from the others. My shoulders sag, realizing this is going to be a lot harder than I originally thought.
I drift away from the group, finding others to mingle with. It’s easy to infiltrate groups of demons—I’m another warm body they can potentially fuck. I play my role well, all but throwing myself at the demons who give me attention, trying to get them to speak.
“Who do you think the king will fuck tonight?” A conversation from a group of three demons stops me in my tracks. I pretend to take a sip of wine, craning my neck to listen.
“That human queen, I figure,” a feminine voice says, sounding disinterested.
“Ah, yes. The queen who is supposed to save us because our king is too weak or too much of a coward to do it himself,” a familiar voice says.
My head snaps to the side, and my eyes widen as I take in who spoke.
Lola. The servant who helped me get ready before my wedding with Greta and Paulina.
She’s not wearing a maid uniform now, but rather a skin-tight black dress with heavy makeup.
There’s no humor in her expression, just seething hate.
It makes sense because Greta, her boss and maybe friend, turned to stone.
She seems to be taking the loss of her friend hard.
“Don’t speak ill of King Oziel,” the woman next to her says. Pride swells inside me at having someone defend Oziel—until she speaks again. “It will hurt my chances of getting him to fuck me if he hears us talking.”
I decide I hate her.
Lola just mumbles something under her breath, breaking away from the others.
I note her displeasure with Oziel, but is it enough to betray him?
How long has she felt this way? Despite her contempt for my husband, I don’t think she’s the one poisoning the lake, but it doesn’t completely clear her either.
I make a mental note before continuing my rounds to speak with other demons.
They speak a lot. About fucking. Who they wish to fuck.
Who they wish to never fuck again. But they never speak of anyone missing or enemies of the king.
It was a far-fetched plan to begin with, but I had hoped this would provide me some insight.
Yet I’m no further than I was at the start of this, other than the new information about Lola.
Defeat tastes bitter on my tongue. My hour slips away, and the partygoers are long gone in their lust, all engaged in sex.
The room fills with lewd sounds of skin smacking against skin, moans and cries of pleasure, and the heady scent of sex.
I don’t even have the chance to enjoy the sight before me, knowing I’ve come away with nothing of substance.
I can’t make out Oziel, or even Garvan, for that matter, amongst the crowd.
My brain begins to conjure up images of Oziel with another, naked and sweaty, moaning as he slips inside her or him.
They would scream out for him because I know how good his cock feels buried deep inside me.
Anger slowly boils within me at the scene playing out, no matter how many times I tell myself it’s not real.
He wouldn’t betray me that way after he promised me he would behave.
Before I can work myself into a raging fit, something catches my attention.
I turn just in time to see a hooded figure leaving through the courtyard.
My body tenses, and for half a second, I contemplate finding Oziel or Garvan to accompany me, but by the time I find them, this mystery figure could be long gone.
No, this is my chance, and I can’t risk missing it.
Sidestepping the writhing bodies on the ground, I make my way out the doors leading to the courtyard, taking note that no guards are stationed here. Oziel surely had guards stationed at each door? Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen guards since the ritual.
The warm breeze hits my bare arms the moment I get to the courtyard. My eyes dart to the tree line just in time to see the hooded figure disappear through the thickets of evergreens. I start to run but only get so far before my feet scream in protest.
“Fuck,” I growl, leaning down to unclasp my heels and quickly discard them before starting my chase.
The hooded figure stops in his tracks, and I quickly roll behind a tree, flattening myself against it to blend in with the scenery.
For a few tense moments, the figure doesn’t move, and I think for sure they’ve seen me.
That this entire operation is over because they’re going to kill me.
But just as I’m mentally writing my will, they turn their back to me and start walking at a faster pace deeper into the forest.
In the direction of the River Hel.
My heart pounds loudly in my chest, drowning out all the other sounds in the forest. The dagger’s cool blade against my chest reminds me I’m not without protection, and I reach for the only weapon I have, clutching it tightly in one fist.
I keep my footsteps light, doing my best to not step on anything that would cause the hooded figure to turn back and spot me.
I feel every rock and piece of sharp earth against my bare feet but ignore the pain.
For five minutes, we walk, me a short distance behind him until the smell of the river infiltrates the air.
The River Hel is in poor shape, even worse than last time. It’s almost completely black in color and smells of rot and decay. The putrid smell nearly makes me vomit up the remnants of breakfast this morning. Does Oziel know just how bad the river has gotten? What does this mean for his magic?
The hooded figure crouches alongside the river, pulling something small out of his pocket.
Shiny black liquid gleams in the vial, sparkling like a captured miniature galaxy.
There’s a presence to the liquid, one that makes every part of my body rebel, telling me something isn’t right. This is wrong. All wrong.
It’s the poison.
The only thought going through my mind is ridding the hooded figure of the vial.
They’re so preoccupied with its contents, they don’t hear me approaching.
The weight of the dagger doesn’t seem like a burden any longer, but a necessity.
A necessity to kill and protect what is mine.
Because, for as long as I’m married to Oziel, this kingdom is mine to protect.
I will go to any lengths necessary to protect those I deem important, and Oziel is important to me, no matter how much I wish to deny it.