Page 19 of The Demon King's Unruly Mate

I crossed my arms, studying her. I’d spent my life avoiding court politics, keeping my clan safely removed from the machinations that had nearly destroyed us. But she’d lived it, breathed it, survived it.

“What would you have me do, then?” I asked.

“Be king,” she said simply. “Rule.”

“That’s your solution? Just... rule?”

“Yes.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping. “If you dissolve the crown, what then? What happens when the power vacuum forms and the strongest clans start carving up territory? What happens when the humans catch on that we can steal and murder right under their noses before vanishing in a cloud of smoke?”

I opened my mouth to offer a defense, but it felt weak even in my own mind. “The clans have kept to themselves for centuries?—”

“Have you seen any frost giants in those centuries?” she cut in.

The question stopped me cold. Frost giants had once ruled in the tallest, deepest mountain ranges. Powerful, ancient beings who had seen humans as little more than food. They’d preyed on villages, stealing people and livestock, leaving devastation in their wake.

Until the humans had organized. Hunted them. Slaughtered them to the last infant.

The stories were still told, though the humans thought them mere fables—Jack and the Beanstalk, the giant grinding bones to make his bread. But we knew the truth. We remembered the histories from when the humans thought monsters were just nightmares, and the dangers once they knew we were real.

She’s right, I admitted silently. Any change I wanted wouldn’t happen overnight, no matter how hard I pouted or tantrumed. The royal court was a beast with many heads; cut one problem off, and two more would grow in its place.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” I said, offering a mocking half-bow. “I didn’t realize I’d mated the voice of reason.”

“There’s a great deal you don’t realize about me.” She let off a pleased hum as she tilted her head in teasing acknowledgment. But the keen look never left her eyes, and she continued, “You already know about leadership and responsibility. The rest is just...” She waved a hand dismissively. “Window dressing.”

Griffin cleared his throat, startling us both. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Your Highnesses,” he said, his eyes darting to Talia, then me, then back to Talia. “I believe I’ve spotted Leona and a human entering that bookstore across the street.”

I straightened. “Are they alone?”

“Yes,” Griffin confirmed, still looking primarily at Talia as if unsure who was in charge. “They appear to be... on a date.”

“Or under control,” I said, my voice strained as unwelcome memories washed over me. Javed’s magic seeped into my mind, forcing my body to move against my will, my hands reaching for Zral’s throat?—

A soft touch at the base of my tail pulled me back to the present. Talia pressed a palm against my back in a hesitant, comforting gesture, even as her voice remained hard.

“If the boy is human, he couldn’t possibly use the relics,” she pointed out. “No human has that kind of power over our kind.”

I took a breath, steadying myself. Of all people, she would understand. She’d survived years under Javed’s thumb. She must have learned to navigate his cruelty to keep her sanity intact. Our scars might not show on our skin, but they ran just as deep.

I gave her a slight nod, gratitude I couldn’t voice aloud. Her fingers lingered a moment longer before falling away. The small kindness hit harder than it should have.

We crossed the street and entered the bookshop, a small bell announcing our arrival. The interior was cramped but cozy, with shelves reaching to the ceiling and the smell of paper and binding glue hanging in the air.

It took only moments to spot Leona and her companion among the stacks. Leona stood with her back to us, leaning against a human male as they examined a book together. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. They were laughing softly, completely absorbed in each other.

I exchanged a glance with Talia. There was no mistaking the happiness radiating from the couple. This was no kidnapping or coercion. This was an escape.

Before I could move, Talia stepped forward. “Leona.”

The young ifrit whirled around, her eyes widening in recognition and fear. In an instant, she positioned herself between her companion and us, her stance protective.

“Princess Talia,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “What are you doing here?”

The human looked confused, his gaze darting between Leona and us. “Lee? Who are these people?”

“Aaron,” Leona said, not taking her eyes off us, “they are... from home.”

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