The Demon's Mate

Chapter three

After standing for what felt like hours, the auction still had not begun. It seemed everyone was waiting for someone's arrival or something to happen because everyone's eyes were glued to the double doors at the other side of the room. Mistress Silvane was also openly staring at the double doors.

Also, the empty, formidable chair at the center of the room was proof enough that someone had yet to arrive.

Just a few meters to Nirelle's side stood five men in similar chains to the one that bound her to the other girls. They were also meant to partake in the auction.

Nirelle was lost in her own thoughts of self-encouragement when a herald's voice cracked through the silence like a whip.

"His Majesty, Caspian Nox."

Everywhere went dead silent.

The double doors opened and a man walked in.

The scrape of chairs as the nobles rose one by one and bowed, eyes lowered in respect and fear, was so loud in the silence.

A whisper passed through the crowd, "My king."

Nirelle did not understand the cause of the tension until she heard Mistress Silvane whisper beside her through clenched teeth. "The demon king. He really showed up."

Nirelle's knees threatened to give out. She had heard rumors all her life of the demon king. How he drank blood instead of wine. That he skinned disobedient nobles alive. That his throne was made warm by the souls it had swallowed. They said to look upon him was to invite death. They said that he has lived since the beginning of time, but he still looked timeless. That his eyes could see the lie in your heart before your mouth even spoke it.

And now he was here.

Not a story nor a warning.

Here, in this hall in flesh and blood, breathing the same air as her.

She felt that familiar hot gaze on her.

Looking up, it was him—the man from the tower. Their eyes met, and she couldn't look away. His gaze was so intense that the senses in her body screamed danger, but she didn't heed it.

'He is the demon king,' Nirelle thought in shock.

He did not glance at the nobles. His gaze was locked on Nirelle as he walked majestically to the chair at the center of the room.

No—it wasn't a chair.

It was too regal to be called a chair.

It was a throne, made just for him. Carved from black oak, its back soared high above any man's head, crowned with sharp arches and gold leaf that caught the light like fire. The armrests were worn smooth by generations of kings, ending in lion heads with rubies for eyes. A deep crimson cushion sank beneath the weight of power itself, and still, it looked like it had never known comfort—only dominion, and as he took his seat, it seemed to have been waiting for his return.

Only then did he speak, "Rise."

Nirelle came back to herself with a start, her eyes dropping at once. She realized that she had been gawking at him and maintaining eye contact. That was forbidden and could incur severe punishments.

The auctioneer—a stout man with a waxed mustache—took his place at the podium behind the auction block. He introduced himself as Aloysius and called on the first batch of merchandise.

They started with the male slaves. The burly man dragged them to the podium and began presenting them to the hall, turning them this way and that so the nobles could get a good look at their physical attributes. The auctioneer went ahead to state each slave's strengths and weaknesses one by one, and bidding soon started.

It wasn't a rowdy affair like one would see in the general slave market. Instead, it was organized and respectable, not for the slaves because they were prodded and touched by the burly man when a noble demanded it.

Nirelle was paralyzed with fear just thinking of being put on display and standing exposed and humiliated in front of over thirty nobles and the demon king.

Soon, the auction for the first batch was concluded, and the next batch was called to the podium.

The burly man seized the first girl at the head of the chain by the arm and wrenched her toward the podium.

Her shackle jerked—and with it, the whole chain. Steel screamed against stone as the other four girls were dragged stumbling behind her, bare feet scrambling to keep from falling. Mistress Silvane followed behind.

On getting to the podium, Nirelle's fear became reality. Mistress Silvane moved and started presenting them one after the other, introducing them and stating reasons why they should be bought. Their ragged dresses were thin and humiliating, leaving little dignity, and every eye in the hall devoured their discomfort.

When it got to her turn, Nirelle logged out of her body. Her eyes turned hollow like she was going into a shock.

Mistress Silvane's expression was aloof and guarded as always. "Lot number five. Untouched and unbroken," she announced, her fingers finding the thin lace at Nirelle's shoulder. "Ladies and gentlemen, let us consider this merchandise properly."

Nirelle didn't even flinch. The hall was silent, pairs of eyes locked on her. Mistress Silvane's nail dug in, tugging—

"Stop."

The word was not loud. It did not need to be. It cracked through the auction hall like thunder.

Before Silvane could even turn her head, he was there, right beside her.

One breath, and the throne was unoccupied. The next, a gust of cold wind tore through the podium, and Caspian Nox stood behind Nirelle, his hand locked around Mistress Silvane's wrist.

Mistress Silvane gasped. Her face went white.

Caspian did not look at her. His eyes were on Nirelle. Dark, furious, absolute.

He leaned down, his voice low enough that only the front row heard, but it carried to every corner of the hall.

"She is mine."

He released the Mistress with a flick, as if her touch had soiled him. She stumbled back, clutching her wrist.

Then Caspian straightened, his cloak falling around Nirelle like a shield, hiding her from every hungry gaze in the room. He looked out over the stunned nobles, his voice ringing with finality.

"One hundred thousand gold crowns."

The auctioneer choked on his own breath. " O-One hundred—my king, the bidding starts at—"

Caspian's gaze cut him off. "One hundred thousand. Does anyone dare bid higher?"

No one moved. No one breathed.

Nirelle stared up at him, trembling. The man did not feel like a stranger anymore.