Chapter 32
Isabelle
As much as I was against sleep, it came easily the moment my head hit the pillow.
It didn’t occur to me that I was running on pure adrenaline from fighting the hooded attacker, worrying about Oziel, and fucking him.
My body fell into the bed, and I slept until soft hands gently nudged me awake the following morning.
For a demon, Oziel’s touch can be gentle.
Soothing even. I doubt many others get to feel their king caressing them like this.
My eyes flutter open, the flames from the fire burning in the hearth dancing across Oziel’s face.
Despite having slept, dark circles underline his eyes.
The usual teasing smirk dims to a soft smile.
Maybe it’s my sleep-riddled brain, but he appears gaunt and paler than usual.
“Get dressed, Kitten. Garvan is going to meet us by the River Hel to assist in our search this morning. Are you hungry?” His knuckles run across my cheek in an intimate gesture.
I shiver, my body betraying how much I enjoy the touch. It feels different than normal.
My stomach churns, but not with hunger. Nerves fill the void, and I’m too worked up for breakfast. Answers first, food second.
“I’ll eat later,” I decide, pushing myself up. Oziel is dressed, making me wonder just how long the demon king’s been awake. After throwing back the covers, I get out of bed to search for clothes, Oziel’s hot stare boring into my naked body.
Maybe I bend down a little more than I need to when selecting my clothes. I’m rewarded with a growl and a swift ass spanking. My body heats, already primed for him, despite just having him hours ago. Fucking focus.
The dress I pull out is black—of course—with a fitted bodice and flowing skirt. I don’t bother with panties, which earns me another satisfying growl, and pull the dress over my head. I quickly fix the top, making sure my tits aren’t spilling out, before slipping on sandals. “I’m ready.”
“That you are.” Even his voice lacks its usual playful humor. Yesterday must have taken more out of him than he’s willing to share. Before I have a chance to pry, Oziel takes my hand. I’m prepared to walk to the River Hel, but his shadows wrap around us.
“Oziel, no—” But my protests go unheard as the familiar feeling of being swept away overtakes me.
A moment later, the shadows retract, slithering back to Oziel. He sways precariously, and I reach out to grab him. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I chastise.
“And yet, it’s done.” Oziel’s words aren’t unkind, but they are dismissive.
He pulls out of my grip to get a better look at the river behind me.
The inky river is a foreboding reminder of all we have lost and will continue to lose if we don’t repair the damage that has been done.
How do we save something that looks beyond our help?
Oziel’s jaw clenches, his entire form shrouded in seething darkness, visible in the dim light.
Fury radiates from him, a storm barely contained beneath the surface.
He is livid, mourning what has been taken and sharing the same fears I have.
Is it too late? The very air crackles with his rage, nearly suffocating me with unspoken threats.
“We are almost out of time,” he growls, his voice a razor-edged warning. The weight of his words sends a shiver down my spine. Even though I know them to be true, it makes hearing them out loud no easier than before.
“What can I do?” Feeling useless, I go to his side. On instinct, I reach out for him, taking his hand. At first, Oziel doesn’t respond, but then his warm hand squeezes mine, and he sighs.
“Show me where you were attacked,” he says.
My brain tries to conjure up the scene from yesterday. Running through the woods in hopes of catching the demon traitor left very little time to map my surroundings. Still, I try to remember my steps from last night.
My hand slips from Oziel’s, and the absence of his warmth is immediate; I find myself missing it. Memories of last night crash over me—the struggle against my attacker, the sharp pain as my back slammed into a tree, the frantic search for the castle when demons began to flee in fear.
My feet move on instinct, carrying me across the clearing toward the spot where I think the fight happened. My gaze sweeps over the area, searching for anything familiar. Then, something catches the light. Just a faint glimmer. My head snaps toward it.
A blade.
“There.” I point in the direction of the knife, quickly running to it. My dagger lies in the grass, untouched, with dried, dark stains on the blade. Blood. My attacker’s blood.
“There’s still blood on it,” I tell Oziel as he approaches my side. My husband crouches, examining the dagger. When he doesn’t speak, worry seizes me. “Is it not enough?”
How much blood does he need to identify the attacker?
Is dried blood as potent as fresh blood?
After my failure yesterday, I want some success to come from today.
I had the traitor so close, but I wasn’t powerful enough to stop him.
It wasn’t for lack of trying, but rather the fact I’m human.
Here, I’m not as powerful as Oziel or his demons.
Yet, it is I who must save the kingdom? Ender had to be mistaken.
Oziel grabs the handle, bringing the blade up to inspect it. I hold my breath, as if waiting for a doctor to tell me grave news about my health.
Then Oziel tilts his head up and smiles. A true Oziel smile that he lacked this morning. “You cut him good, Kitten.”
Pride swells in my chest. “Yes, I did.”
“This is enough blood.” Oziel stands up, careful with the dagger in his hand.
A rustle has me turning my head just in time to see Garvan partially shrouded by trees. Much like Oziel, the demon looks tired. He manages to offer me a smile, bowing his head slightly. His gait is slightly stiff, and his face is flushed.
“My apologies for my tardiness,” Garvan says. “I just received word from King Allarick and his wife, Queen Erin.”
My body tenses. Out of the whirlwind this past few weeks have been, I’ve completely forgotten about my request to speak with Erin. “What did she say?”
“Allarick said Erin will see you, though I have not been given a date yet.”
The weight I’ve carried for far too long has finally begun to lift.
Not entirely. It won’t be gone until I speak with Erin, but the crushing heaviness has eased, just enough for me to breathe a little easier.
My shoulders slump, the tension unwinding from my body like a frayed rope finally loosening. A shaky exhale leaves me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words laced with quiet relief. Oziel’s hand comes to rest on the small of my back. He knows what this moment means to me and how important it is for me to speak with Erin.
“Of course, my queen. When I hear back about a proposed date, I’ll inform you at once,” he promises before his eyes drop to the dagger in his king’s hand. For a brief moment, his eyes widen in shock. “You found it?”
“Isabelle did.” Oziel’s praise warms something deep within me. “The blood of the traitor is still on it. We can track them, Garvan. Finally, we can find the one who has betrayed their own and punish him with the full extent of my command.”
I fully believe the traitor will wish for death, beg for it even. Oziel will show no mercy.
“We must go now.” Oziel takes my hand.
I start to follow him, but then something makes me stop. Call it a pull or a feeling, but I can’t shake the sense that something is here that we missed. Something I need to find.
“I want to stay here a little longer,” I tell him. Oziel’s brow furrows, confusion in his gaze. Unasked questions linger in his eyes, which I’m quick to answer. “I just want to look around a little longer. See if we missed anything. If I find anything, I’ll let you know at once.”
Oziel purses his lips, debating on letting me go. In the end, he lets my hand drop. “Fine. But don’t be too long. I want you there when I find the traitor. I can send guards to stay with you.”
“I won’t be long,” I assure, not wanting to wait on guards. “And I want to be there, but I just need another look.”
“Very well.” He nods once and then turns to Garvan. “Come, old friend. I will need your assistance with this.” He’s allowing Garvan to help, but still keeps him at arm’s length until we find out who is betraying us.
Garvan doesn’t argue, appearing resigned to helping.
Not eager, which I note as strange, but he’s been dealing with this a lot longer than I have.
I’m sure he’s ready to see it over just like Oziel is.
If all demons take strength from River Hel, it makes sense why Garvan looks tired and walks as if each step takes great effort.
“I’ll be in my study when you need me.” Oziel leans in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to my lips. I return it instinctively, but before I can fully savor the warmth, he pulls away.
He produces another dagger from his hip, handing it over to me. “I trust you’ll use this if necessary.” With a final glance, he turns, his dark silhouette retreating toward the castle. Garvan follows close behind, their figures soon swallowed by the distance, leaving me alone with my own thoughts.
Silence settles around me, but it’s not empty. It hums with possibility. A lingering sensation stirs in my chest, a quiet certainty that the answers I seek are here, waiting to be uncovered.
I simply need to figure out what those are.