Chapter 3

The grand hall vibrated with suppressed power. As much as demon society worshipped magic, it appeared that etiquette among the nobility was to repress their natural abilities when gathering. Whether that was to mislead the other powerful families in their never ending quest for dominance or as a sign of respect to the king, Alora wasn’t sure. All Alora knew was that she was grateful for the unspoken rule as she slipped through the groups of demons and magic of different nature and strength fluctuated around her.

The aura of the demons prodded at her, subtly testing her strength. Not that any of them were stronger than her. Still, even with only the smallest touches of magic against her aura, it was suffocating.

Alora swiped a glass of wine from a passing servant’s tray. She knew the demon nobility were curious about her, Isten’s Ice Queen, but their gazes and magic made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that had her magic wanting to lash out and freeze them all to the spot. These men and women weren’t the one who her magic wanted. Her power wanted someone stronger: someone like that man with blood red hair and golden eyes from her dream. The demon general, he would satisfy her.

Her fingers tightened around the glass fluke as she shoved the train of thought away. She scanned the room again. The grand hall was rectangular shaped with the only two exits on either end of the hall: the grand entrance that led into the room and a set of smaller doors at the far back of the room that led out to a side hallway. Multiple chandeliers crafted from black iron and scarlet crystals hung from a vaulted ceiling. Tall, narrow windows with pointed arches lined one stone wall, while the other three were lined with tapestries and oil paintings depicting ancient battles and intricate scenes of demons in grandiose displays of power.

Across the hall, Lord Whittier, a rotund man in his early thirties with a balding patch amongst his thin blonde hair caught her attention. He stood in a circle with a group of demon nobles, likely the king’s diplomatic advisors.

During the war, Isten had painted demons as cruel, deformed versions of humans, lesser beings trying to copy the human form. However, the truth was demons looked remarkably similar to humans. The only physical differences, especially among the nobility, were that the Olgen citizens had horns and sharper teeth. Demons also tended to be on the taller side, and, of course, all demons had an affinity to magic.

Swirling her glass of wine, Alora debated if she should join him, before quickly deciding against it. She pivoted and headed towards the back of the hall, away from the nobility.

Alora should be observing the demons and strategizing of how to assist Lord Whittier for tomorrow’s negotiations but thoughts kept returning to her predicament. Alora frowned. When she was with Millie, Alora had sequestered all the anxiety and fears away, but left alone to her own thoughts, her mind kept sliding back to the dream and her strange reactions.

She had tested everything she ate since entering the demon territory. There hadn’t been poison. And although the dreams and her fluctuating magic was concerning; she didn’t detect any outside influences. However, Alora wanted to believe the journey into demon territory and the upcoming negotiations were putting her on edge; but that was a lie.

The symptoms Alora was experiencing were too chaotic to be attributed to simple nerves. Besides, if Alora was going to be honest, the symptoms hadn’t begun in the bathroom. For the last few days, Alora had noticed her temperature rising, breasts becoming heavy, and her cunt yearning for release. That hadn’t been the first time her magic had sparked without Alora calling on it either. In the carriage, she had almost frozen Lord Whittier and Millie when she woke from a dirty dream and, even before that, her magic had snapped at one of the soliders.

She didn’t know of any sickness that would result in those symptoms. An aphrodisiac could count for the perverted dream on the balcony, but, again, Alora had checked all her food. And unless someone had stronger magic than her, which as far as she knew only the king and the demon general did, she would have caught any interference.

The thought that her symptoms were from a calling made Alora shudder.

Alora threw back her head and drowned the rest of her wine. She was becoming as paranoid as Millie.

Her fingers tingled with magic.

“Destruction for Love.”

“Huh?” Alora looked up and started.

A demon and demoness had appeared beside her. She hadn’t noticed them approach. Alora’s magic rippled through her, but when she looked back, the man and woman weren’t staring at her. Alora followed their gaze to the wall to a smaller painting hung in between larger frames.

This painting was different from the rest. In the others, the kings appeared alone or in positions of victory. None of them looked as raw and brutal as this. A demon king held a beautiful woman in a protective embrace. His face was twisted with fury as he burned a city around them, his sword still dripping blood from the figures at their feet. The woman looked fragile, her body limp in his arms, yet the king’s hold on her was fierce and possessive. He held the woman like this—like a lover. Like if he released her he would lose his sanity. It reminded Alora of the painting hung over the bed in her room. Alora pressed her thighs together. Why was she getting turned on?

“It’s one of the oldest pieces we have,” the demon next to her continued. “Do you like it?”

Alora hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s very different. Was she…”

“A human?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a very ancient tale.” The demoness beside him smiled. Fanged teeth poked out of her lips. “King Aesther of the first kingdom and his fated mate.”

Alora’s mouth was dry and she wished she had more of her wine. “I hadn’t heard of a story of a demon king taking a human as a wife.”

“Not wife, mate,” the demoness corrected.

Alora’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“I believe humans call them soul mates or twin flames,” the demon added.

Alora glanced back at the painting. She hadn’t known demons believed in love and other halves. Not that should be that surprising. Demons were essentially the same as humans but with some adaptations. And even witches could have soul mates, although because of magic, finding their other half wasn’t simple. A witch’s magic found their soulmate in a calling. Ice ran down Alora’s spine. Her stomach twisted.

“Forgive me, where are my manners? I am Lord Bastion,” he said with a nod that bespoke authority. “Lord Bastion the head of the demon delegation. And this is my mate, Ivanna.”

Mate. The word again. Her mouth was dry and she had to try twice before she was able to respond. “Alora Kayden.”

“Ice Queen.” Ivanna laughed, a musical sound that drew glances from nearby. “You don’t need to introduce yourself. Everyone knows who you are, your fame proceeds you.”

Alora pressed her lips together. “The war is over. Despite my past, I am here for peace.”

“Of course,” Bastion replied, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “The king will be pleased to hear of your commitment. We have high hope that both our sides can move on. Letting go of past grievances is not easy, but the trade treaty and tonight will be the first step to re-establishing relationships after fifty years.”

He nodded toward the painting, and Alora had the sudden sense that he was not referring only to treaties. The hair stood on the back of her neck, like the tickle of premonition. But before she could dig deeper, a sudden press of power so strong and tempting washed over her senses. It was a wave of molten heat, lustrous and demanding. Her mind blanked, thoughts melting away. She looked up just as the grand doors swung open.

“Duke Kasimir Kim. General of Olgen”

The servant's voice barely registered above the roar of awareness in her head. Alora swayed on her feet, a moth overwhelmed by the blaze as she stared up towards the entrance of the hall and Kasimir Kim, the demon general and the harbinger of the battlefield.

Alora’s heart stuttered.

Kasimir Kim. General of the demon forces. The most ruthless demon with no shred of humanity, the man who spared her life, and the man from her dreams.