Demon Empress

Chapter 3 - Coveting

Iara leaned over the table, her eyes sparkling with an immature greed for gossip. “Who is that?”

The demon replied in a lowered voice, shifting over a seat to sit next to her. “Lady Rona Aluva. She’s the daughter of the Master of the Fifth Hellgate.”

Iara’s mouth formed an O in understanding. “I was wondering why she was trying to lord over an unrelated shop in the Fifth Ring. It turns out she really is the master of the Fifth Ring.”

The demon’s eyes waried. “You should mind your words. Gatekeeper Aluva is literally just that: a gatekeeper. The Fifth Ring, like all other Rings of Hell, are only at the command of one master, and that is the Empress.” He lowered his gaze and spoke under his breath, but Iara heard the disdain in his words. “A brat like Rona Aluva is not qualified to be lord over anything.”

Iara tilted her head to the side, studying this demon. “You’re a funny one. The Empress does nothing all day. Neither her harem nor her Court has seen her since her coronation five hundred years ago. She hasn’t done one thing to govern the realm, but you defend her — what’s your name?”

The demon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s treasonous talk,” he murmured lowly. “Don’t say that kind of thing again.”

Iara shrugged. “I’m only describing what everyone sees.”

“It’s a crime of treason to question the Empress’ ownership over Hell and its beings.” His voice was low, warning.

Outside, Rona Aluva seethed. “Very well, a shared table, then. But I must eat here today! Opening a shop in the Fifth Ring and daring to dismiss me, do you still wish to live?”

The clerk said something to her in a coaxing, flattering tone, and the next time she spoke, her anger had clearly simmered down, as her words were no longer distinguishable from Iara’s table.

They didn’t have to be curious for too long — soon after, footsteps drew near, and the clerk personally drew open the partition with a bow.

A pretty demoness in a dress far too luxurious for the Fifth Ring entered, escorted by a just-as-well-dressed demon. His subservient attitude made it clear this demon couldn’t afford to offend the arrogant woman, and he was careful to pull out her seat for her and help her into it. Only after she was settled did he take a seat for himself.

Behind them, a human slave trailed in quietly, his head lowered to hide his pretty face and his slender arms crossed politely together behind his back. He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor.

He wore the clothes of a servant, and he was beautiful enough to be mistaken for a demon, but the demon-steel collar with House Aluva’s seal engraved in the centre betrayed his identity quite quickly.

Iara did not know to fear. Letting out a low whistle, she unabashedly raked her gaze over the human. “House Aluva is truly mighty,” she mused thoughtfully, an easy smile on her lips. “In the Fifth Ring, only Lady Rona would be able to afford raising a human slave.”

Rona Aluva glanced at her condescendingly. “But of course,” she boasted stiffly, arrogantly. “Human slaves are a common commodity for nobles. As a master of the Fifth Ring, how could I leave home without one?” She scrutinised Iara, her lips thinly pressed together. “And you two are…?”

The beautiful demon who had cautioned Iara for her words rose from his seat and bowed his head slightly. “Luc pays respects to Lady Rona Aluva.”

Iara smiled to herself. Luc, his name was Luc. Rising from her seat, she copied his very proper greetings. “Iara pays respects to Lady Rona Aluva.”

But before the haughty woman could wave them back into their seats, Iara comfortably dropped back into her chair. As she did, she pointed at the slave. “I thought the trend of keeping human pets had passed already, but Lady Rona’s slave doesn’t seem to be as coarse as a regular soldier or meat shield.”

She ignored the gaze of warning from Luc, speaking as if she was oblivious.

The demon at Rona Aluva’s side glared. “How dare you question how Lady Rona uses her property? You really don’t know your place in this world.”

Iara simply arched her brows in response, unfazed by the man’s anger. “And you are…?”

The man’s attractive face distorted with an ugly indignation. “Peasant woman, you dare…”

Luc abruptly rose from his seat with a clatter, bowing his head low. “Would my lord please kindly excuse my wife’s disrespect? She is from the countryside, and it’s her first time in the Fifth Ring. I will teach her when we get home.”

Iara narrowed her eyes at him, her brows raised in a silent question. Wife? When did I become your wife? But she didn’t call him out on his lie, settling herself comfortably once again. Leaning forward she quickly adjusted herself: “Yes, that’s right, my sincere apologies. Husband, you need not worry. Lady Rona is as gracious as she is fair, and she will not make it difficult for a citizen.”

Faced with these words of flattery, Rona Aluva didn’t push the matter, elegantly waving it away with a gloved hand. “It’s no matter. Sit, sit, we are here for a meal. C’Rus, you too — calm down. They are my father’s citizens.”

Having been given this order, C’Rus bristled slightly, but pursed his mouth shut in visible displeasure. Luc sat back down once again, with the grace and dignity as if he had not risen for the sake of begging for mercy.

Iara met his gaze — his glittering, jewel-like eyes were intently fixed on her.

She returned his stare with an innocent smile and a shrug. He quickly looked away, an unreadably neutral expression settling on his features.

With the table fully occupied, they ordered their food. Throughout the meal, C’Rus and the human slave waited on Rona Aluva hand and foot, C’Rus with unmasked and flattering adoration, the human slave in obedient silence.

Iara and Luc ate quietly without exchanging words, watching the interactions between the three of them. It was clear Rona Aluva favoured her human slave; she ordered him to feed her, ignoring C’Rus’ attentiveness, and at some point rose and ordered him into her seat, sitting back down in his lap once he was settled.

But behind the slave’s carefully-schooled, blank expression, Iara saw the unwillingness, the fury as he obeyed all the orders, subserviently opening his mouth to accept her small rewards of food as she leaned further into his chest.

Luc didn’t stall. He ate his food, then his gaze flickered to Iara’s plate. Seeing it also empty, he rose from his seat, one hand reaching around her to gently but authoritatively yank her up as well. “My wife and I have finished our meals, and we have disturbed my lady’s private outing long enough. We will excuse ourselves.”

Rona Aluva nodded, and seemed as if she would say some words of courtesy to send them off, but Iara cut in with that same, infuriatingly oblivious smile. “How much would Lady Rona be willing to sell that slave for?”

Rona Aluva’s face immediately darkened, and the slave’s head flew up, his wide eyes fixed expressionlessly on her.

C’Rus growled. “You dare covet Lady Rona’s things, and a human slave at that, peasant?”

Luc’s brows creased, and his firm grip on her arm tightened slightly, his body tensing.

Iara tilted her head to the side. “If you are unhappy about selling him, would it be alright to duel you for him, then?”