Page 5 of Drawn to the Demon Duke
CHAPTER 3
SUMMONED
HAURES
“The ash farmers are behind on their quota of grain this cycle.”
Caim, head of the Dunkel village, is staring down his long nose at Orias, golden eyes blazing at the male with the twisted horn as he accuses him of reneging on a trade deal.
Orias might have a twisted horn, but it’s the mark of a battle against a lesser demon that he won. If a challenge broke out between the two village leaders, I’d lay my coin down that Orias would use his slimmer build to his advantage, barreling into Caim horn-first, then using
After all, that’s what he did when a rogue soldier targeted an unmated demoness in Chaleur. Orias protected his villager, as any demon in power ought to, and he defeated Yuul. I’m glad he did. If not, I would’ve had the soldier brought in front of my throne and made an example of to the rest of my realm.
Mates are a sacred thing. The gods grant us forever to find our one true mate, but should we decide to accept any demoness as our lifelong partner, a Sombra demon can—so long as thedemoness accepts a male’s essence and offers hers—and the mate promise—in return.
Taking a female because you’ve tired of waiting? There’s a reason some of my people will walk into the shadows at the edge of Sombra, never to return, when the long wait to discover their mate leads them to choose an end to their existence over continued loneliness. Allowing the shadows to take them is the only option for an honorable male.
For a dishonorable male? Death is the only outcome.
But a quarrel over a trade between two local villages? Alas, that is one of the many tedious arguments brought to my castle in Mavro, dropped in my lap as I lean back into my throne, legs spread, crystal crown weighting more heavily at times like these than others.
I am Haures. Duke of Sombra, Lord of the Shadows, Rule of the Flames.
And today?
I am Haures, arbitrator of silly little disagreements as I grit my teeth, silently gnashing my tusks as Orias jabs Caim in his unmarked chest.
Ah. That would explain it. Orias’s silvery ink stands out against his solid red form; he has four characters etched into his chest,J-A-H-I, for his bonded mate. Caim, on the other claw, is without a demon to call his own, and his aggressive posturing has more to do with jealousy than his pristine horns.
I stay silent, letting the other village leader speak.
“That’s only because there is a clan of yillurim that are nesting in the southern fields,” Orias retorts.
“So send a hunter to clear the fields.”
“Our hunters are protecting Chaleur from a huigitz.”
Caim sniffs. “Huigitz are easily tamed. Send a pair of hunters after the beast, and leave the rest to root out the yillurim.”
“We’ve lost three of our best hunters to the shadows and the predator. Relying on a pair would be needless death.”
“Dunkel needs its grain.”
Orias jabs Caim again. “Then Dunkel can tend to the ash fields.”
“In Chaleur?” Caim turns, facing me. “Your grace, please grant us your wisdom. Should my people have to do the work of his farmers? Or should they…”
Though I’ve dealt with far more tiresome meetings than this one during my two thousand years on the throne, Caim’s voice becomes a whisper in my ears as a pounding sound replaces it. My heart… it thrums.Beat beat, beat beat. My pulse thuds. My claws curl.
Snap.
Tug.
Yank.
I rise up to my feet.
Though duke I may be, I am even more powerful for the gift I was born with. As though my mother somehow sacrificed any shadows I was meant to have for a unique gift, I am the only existing bondmaster in all of Sombra.
