Page 198 of The Soulbond and Her Beloved

Amie, on the other hand, threw herself fully into both programs. Emeriel was quietly pleased.

Prince Daviel had written her a few days earlier. His father was gravely ill—his health deteriorating rapidly with the arrival of winter. Daviel had begun assuming more duties, preparing for the inevitable.

Emeriel had sent her condolences. But truthfully, she could not care less if the tyrant king was dying. It had been a long time coming.

Daviel, for all his faults, would be a far better ruler than his father ever was.

Mistress Sinai’s funeral had taken place a week earlier. Her body had been found in the border woods, mauled by ferals during the eclipse moon. Theories suggested she had attempted to flee to the werewolf territories but was viciously attacked. Her remains were recovered and buried in the Citadel.

Emeriel didn’t know what it said about her, but… she was glad the woman was gone for good. Hopefully, Daemonikai’s next bloodhost would be a good female. Someone like Lady Merilyn—kind, stable, devoted. Until then, Emeriel would feed and nourish him herself.

She had even adapted her diet for it. While her blood never fully satisfied his needs the way a bloodhost’s would, he was never truly hungry either—so he was safe.

With his bloodlust kept in check, and his sexlust naturally dormant after her childbirth—as was typical of his kind—he hadn’t had a feral episode since the last one. Some days he got restless… occasionally, the voices even rose to a murmur. But overall, he was doing well.

Sinai’s letter had led to the discovery of the hidden den where Zaiper had imprisoned females to breed during their heats. Some were found too late, lives already lost before the rescue could come, but many were still alive. Malnourished and scarred, but alive.

Some days, her grand king went to the dungeon to see Zaiper.

He would return hours later, blood staining his clothes. He never spoke of what he did there. Just bathed, changed into fresh robes, and came to spend the evening with her and the children.

Emeriel didn’t ask, she didn’t need to.

With Lord Vladya’s soul restored, her sister was glowing. Their son, Aleksian, was as fussy as her Heraxiolia, but that was more than okay. Their children were the highlights of their days.

She was the happiest she had ever been. And so was Aekeira.

***

Zaiper's screams rolled down the dungeon corridor, bouncing off walls as Daemonikai sawed through his leg with a cutlass—whistling a slow, melodic tune. Blood sprayed, splashing onto Daemonikai’s robes, forming a growing puddle.

“This blade’s gone dull,” he said conversationally, examining the edge. “Get me the dagger.”

A guard handed it to him from the wall of instruments, so much polished steel behind them.

Daemonikai discarded the cutlass with a soft clatter and resumed with the dagger, slicing deep into muscle and tendon, never missing a beat in his whistle.

“Please! AHhhhhhh!” Zaiper howled. An animal sound, born of unbearable pain.

Daemonikai sawed clean through until the leg detached entirely. He lifted it, holding it up like a prized relic.

“I hope you don’t mind if I keep this,” he said casually, inspecting the severed limb. “It’s a clean slice. Unfortunately for you, it won’t regenerate—considering I’ve taken the entire limb. You’ll have to forgive me. I got carried away.”

He smiled faintly. “But don’t worry, I won’t let you die. What’s a leg, really? You can do without it.”

Zaiper was barely conscious, his breathing ragged, eyes glassy and unfocused.

Daemonikai tilted his head. “He didn’t hear that, did he?” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll make the decision for you then.”

He waved the leg in front of Zaiper’s face before tossing it aside like a useless stick.

“Binding cloths. Now,” he ordered, wiping the blade on his sleeve. “We can’t let him bleed out. His life isveryimportant.”

“Please... just... let me die,” Zaiper croaked, voice no louder than a whisper.

Daemonikai chuckled. “Now, why would I do that?”

He pressed cloth to the stump, sealing it tightly. Zaiper writhed, screaming again, but the binds held fast.

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