Demon Empress

Chapter 6 - Qaen

C’Rus and Rona Aluva launched into the air and spread their wings.

Watching them fly away, Iara snickered. “You must be quite powerful, seeing such an arrogant girl run away as soon as your collar comes off. Should I be scared, too?”

Qaen mused inwardly. Dismissing Hellfire with plain demon-steel weapons was something he had never heard of before in his long time in Hell tied to many noble masters. It was an odd trick, but it was just that — a trick. As a human, Qaen did not fight with Hellfire, and though she had shown impressive speed, Qaen himself was not too slow.

He weighed out his choices.

He knew nothing about her to risk the consequences of running from her. After all, despite her simple movements during the short battle with Rona, he had felt that unmistakeable bloodthirst with his body.

Luc stepped forward, pushing his wife behind himself slightly. The demon was wary. “Careful, Iara. This human slave isn’t something Rona could handle. He isn’t weak, at all. Just let him go.”

Iara huffed in evident annoyance. “What do you think you are to me?” Grumbling, she turned back to fix her eyes on Qaen. “What’s your name?”

Rona Aluva had never bothered ask. To her, he had always been Lusar, like the four Lusars who had come before him.

“Qaen,” he answered.

“Qaen.” Iara mused, rolling his name off her tongue. He felt odd, hearing his name on her melodic voice. “Good name. Not a human name, I must say.”

Qaen didn’t reply.

“Well?” Iara prodded, smiling.

Qaen lifted his gaze slightly, looking up at her in wary confusion.

“What will you do now?” With a light, unbothered sigh, Iara woefully bemoaned, “I’ve already used up my energy in my duel against the Aluva girl, and Luc here tells me you’re strong, so I don’t have the confidence of taming you.”

Frustration exploded in Luc’s every word. “If you saw this coming, why did you bother?”

Iara rolled her eyes and chose to ignore him, continuing to address Qaen. “So now you need to make a choice. Will you run and be free, or will you take a gamble and come with me?” Her words were placid, but for a split second, her eyes glinted dangerously.

Qaen felt that bone-numbing cold again clenching his spine. Something he couldn’t put a name on made him quickly lower his pride and his head. “I will follow Master.”

Iara arched her brows wordlessly at him.

It took him a moment of confusion before Qaen hastily sank to his knees before her. “Qaen pays respects to New Master.”

He felt her hand rest on his head, her fingers sliding in through his hair.

Her quiet, peaceful voice dropped their words like heavy weights in the air. “I will not restrain you by using a collar.”

“Are you ma—”

Iara spoke over the Luc’s interjection. “Your strength will not be sealed, and I will allow you to roam freely and spend time as you please when you are not attending to me or carrying out orders.”

Qaen looked up at her slowly in surprise. No collar? Was a slave with no collar even a slave? What was a slave that was let loose outside alone without a collar?

Abruptly, he felt the wind being punched violently out of his lungs. It was as if the weight of the realm was crushing down on him from above, as if the hand on his head was the hand of A’Esha herself.

“But if you ever betray the trust I have placed in you, I promise every fibre of your being regret. With Hell as witness, you chose to be my person today. I gave you an option to flee, but you kneeled and called me Master. You shall keep your words, or the laws of Hell will ask you to pay for your crime.”

The powerful weight above him eased and dissipated into nothing, and Iara dropped her hand from his head. She smiled at him. “Get up, get up. Qaen, was it? I’m Iara.”

Qaen shakily rose to his feet, not daring to look up once at her. He couldn’t put a name on that force, that power that willed absolute obedience from him. Every stitch of his body had reacted to her words, as if the Hellground itself was shaking under his knees. It was not normal power, but Luc seemed unbothered — or rather, as if he hadn’t felt it at all.

“Hm? Qaen?”

Iara’s gentle nudge jolted Qaen back to the present. “Yes, Master.”

Iara grinned. “Nice to meet you.”

The greeting threw him off guard, and Qaen looked up to see Iara’s easy smile. “T-The honour is all mine,” he stammered awkwardly.

“Yes,” Iara arched her brows with a playful smirk. “It is.”

Why did Qaen feel as if she meant much more than what she made it sound like?

He watched as Iara turned to face her husband. “Finally. As for you, my dear meddler…”