Page 32 of The Demon King's Unruly Mate

I hurled myself forward, sending balls of fire at anyone who stood between me and the throne. Guards scattered, some falling beneath my onslaught, others diving for cover. I didn’t care. All I saw was Emil, his hands wreathed in flames, reaching for my mate.

I reached the dais in three bounds, grabbing Emil by the back of the neck and yanking him away from Talia. Our eyes locked, and we both understood what needed to be done.

Together, Talia and I unleashed our fire, pouring it into Emil from both sides. His screams echoed through the throne room as he burned, the flames consuming him until nothing remained but ash.

The room fell silent, save for the crackle of dying flames and the groans of the wounded.

“Kaz!” Malak’s voice, rough but blessedly alive, broke the silence. He appeared at the far entrance, a group of guards in royal colors behind him. “We secured the communications room and found loyalists in the barracks. These men still serve the crown.”

Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. Across the body of our enemy, Talia’s eyes had found her father. She moved to him like a sleepwalker, kneeling beside the throne where Emil had carelessly tossed his body.

I turned to Malak and the waiting guards. “Take everyone who followed Emil to the cells. They’ll be judged later.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears. Distant. Hollow. “Secure the palace. No one enters or leaves without my permission.”

Malak nodded, already directing the loyal guards to round up Emil’s supporters. Zane and Rava moved among the fallen, separating the dead from those who could still be saved. Griffin stood watch over it all, his injured arm hanging uselessly at his side, but his eyes alert.

I crossed to where Talia knelt beside her father’s body. I didn’t speak. What could I possibly say that wouldn’t sound empty? Instead, I simply reached for her hand.

Her fingers twined with mine, squeezing so hard it hurt. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to feel. I have everything I ever wanted, but at what cost? An entire family, rotten as it was?”

“You don’t need to know how to feel right now,” I said softly. I knelt beside her, my free hand coming up to cup her cheek. “It can be different tomorrow, or the day after. Andthatcan be different ten days from now.” I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in the scent of jasmine and embers that had become as necessary to me as air. “I’ll be with you through it all, Talia.”

She closed her eyes, a single tear tracking down her cheek. I caught it with my thumb, this precious evidence of her humanity, her heart.

“My queen,” I whispered. Vowed.

Her eyes opened, meeting mine with a fierce, wounded pride that took my breath away. I knew with bone-deep certainty that I would spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her trust, her strength, her vulnerability.

“My king,” she answered, and somehow, in the midst of death and chaos, it felt like the beginning of something extraordinary.

The crown was still stained with blood. The throne room still reeked of death and betrayal. But as Talia’s hand tightened in mine, I felt something I hadn’t expected to find in this place of power and poison.

Hope.

CHAPTER NINE

TALIA

The weight of the crown settled against my temples. Not as heavy as I’d imagined all these years—just gold and jewels, after all—but the responsibility it represented pressed down on my shoulders like a mountain. Three days of coronation celebrations, and I still couldn’t quite believe it was mine. Ours.

I stood on the balcony overlooking the grand ballroom and watched the sea of bodies below. Red skin in every shade, horns gleaming with oils and jewels, tails adorned with precious metals swaying to the music. The nobility and elite of ifrit society, all here to pay homage to their new rulers.

King Kaz and Queen Talia Fitsum.

A title I’d dreamed of since I was old enough to understand what power meant. What I hadn’t dreamed of was the ifrit catching my eye down below, or the butterflies in my stomach when he slipped away from his conversation. His eyes hardly left mine as he climbed the stairs to join me on the balcony.

Kaz’s fingers brushed against mine, the contact sending a familiar spark up my arm. “How much longer must we endure this circus?” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

I suppressed a smile. “Patience, my king. A proper ruler knows when to make a graceful exit.”

“And when might that be?”

I glanced sideways at him, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the glint of gold in his eyes. The formal attire suited him—black and crimson, tailored to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his body. The crown resting on his brow looked as though it had been made for him.

Mine. My mate. My king.

And to think I’d once seen our arranged mating as just another move in the endless game of court politics. The memory of that first night, of viewing Kaz as nothing more than an opponent to outmaneuver, brought a wry twist to my lips. How wrong I’d been. He wasn’t a piece on the board at all, but rather the partner I’d never known I needed.

“Soon,” I promised, letting my tail brush against his. “The slimiest of the bastards are drunk enough that they won’t notice a short absence.”

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