Page 40 of Demon's Bride

“My congratulations,” he says quietly, all traces of earlier humor gone from his voice. “A rare thing, to have found your mate. I wish you both nothing but the best as you navigate this trying time.”

I nod at him in pure, grim understanding.

For anyone amongst demonkind, finding a mate is the highest joy, the greatest wish we might receive in our lifetime. Having Allie here, by my side, in my bed, bound to me by word and magick, is nothing short of miraculous. But having her here with no guarantee she’ll be able to stay, no idea what our joint future holds, is nearly unthinkable.

To lose her now would break me.

Felix was here the day it was decided that Emilia was to be sent back. He heard Sylas’s anguished roar when she stepped back through the Veil—the two of them not mates, but the loss keenly felt. More than her magick left the realm that day, she took Sylas’s heart with her.

I wonder now if I was looking into my own future in that moment.

Felix reaches out and claps me on the shoulder. “One day is not enough indication at which way the tide will turn.”

All I can manage in response to his words is another nod.

“In the meantime,” he continues, “there are about a hundred courtiers who would have your ear this morning.”

“Yes,” I say, letting the familiar mantle of my position fall over me, discarding the unwanted dread and setting aside my anxiety over the state of my future with Allie for the moment. “Yes, let’s get on with it.”

The morning is filled with pain and strife from my subjects. Many of the petitioners ask for more grain to fill their depleted stores, for workmen from the capital to come and help rebuild roads and cities battered by the frequent, ever more violent storms that have rolled over the lands these last few months. So much pain in their faces, such weariness, an air of desperation that permeates court and courtiers both until all good humor and levity from the new queen consort’s arrival has fled.

Through it all, I sit stoic and steady at the head of the court. It’s been my role since my father’s death to be the calming presence, the level head, even as the news my subjects bring me fills my soul with dread and draws emotion up to sit uncomfortably at the back of my throat.

It’s not for a king to show outward turmoil, or to cry when his kingdom sorrows, but to lead them through such sorrow with strength and resolve. It’s what my father did for all the years of his reign, what this realm demands from its leader.

It’s been this way for years, since the day my father died and I inherited this throne. I’ve handled the business of the court, the realm, all on my own. Felix and my other advisors all help in their way, but the weight and responsibility of leadership have always fallen squarely on my shoulders.

To be fair, it’s never been as hard to carry out my role as it has been this past year.

Never have my people suffered such hardship. Never have I been at such a complete loss at what to do to help them. I’ve tried, Goddess knows I’ve tried, to put out fires as they ignite, to staunch the wounds of a bleeding kingdom to little avail. Bandage fixes are not like to help when you’re in the midst of a vicious battle for survival.

It’s hours later, when I’ve heard and granted numerous petitions for assistance, done all my position of power and authority afford me to relieve some of their suffering and triage the damage, when a lull in the steady stream of requests has me slumping subtly back in my chair.

My blood feels like ice.

It’s not unexpected, not after all these months. Rather than allow each individual horror chip away at me, I’ve instead let them steel and inure me against the despair. I’ve let them fuel my resolve to do what it takes, anything it takes, to press on. It’s easier that way. Easier to face it, easier to fix it.

And, being so alone, I’ve carried that same pervasive ice over into my personal life.

It started without my truly recognizing it. The end of a three-year relationship with a female I once thought would be my queen. More nights spent alone, the slow realization that I’d somehow wound up with no listening ear to share my burdens with at the end of the day. I’d spent years in a slow slide to loneliness, and by the time I realized I was there, it seemed far too late to do anything about it.

Strange, how only a few days ago I had thought myself alright with the state of my life. I’d reasoned away the regret, settled into what I thought was noble solitude, dedicated wholly to my duty at the expense of my heart.

Now, however, with Allie in my life, that same heart yearns for more.

We barely know each other. The weight of everything our union is supposed to represent and accomplish is still hanging over us like a headsman’s ax. There are no guarantees that she’ll even be able to stay if the magick deteriorates further.

Even so, my soul aches for her like it’s never ached for anything.

She believes it’s meaningless, this yearning. She believes it has nothing to do with her, that it’s only a quirk of biology and magick that draws me to her and makes me absolutely certain that in any of the thirteen realms, we would have been fated to find one another. No matter where her soul resided, I was meant to find it. Now I only have to convince her of that truth.

The lull in requests for my attention gives me unwanted time to think, to worry, and I’m only drawn back to the present by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“A pause for a late lunch, I think,” Felix says as he makes his way up the dais stairs. “And perhaps a visit to your bride down in the archives?”

I glance to the back of the room where the waiting petitioners have thinned.

“I’ll come with to occupy Vayla,” he continues, grin stretching wide. “So the two of you have ample time and privacy to discuss whatever she’s been studying down there all morning.”

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