Demon Empress

Chapter 15 - Her

Ithur was in his study when a rather commanding knock sounded from the mahogany doors. It was already quite late, but he was a firtborn noble, and he was in the midst of trudging through the quarterly reports each land manager of the l’Rasel estates had sent over.

It was rare that someone came looking for him at this hour, and his first thought was of his wife. She was certainly very commanding, as the beloved eldest daughter of the Minister of Business. But ever since he had caught her cheating, she had become quite ferocious in her attitude towards him, as if she was waiting to pounce in his vulnerable moments.

Then Qaen’s image flashed past behind his eyes. Despite being human and collared, even on his knees and bowing his head subserviently, to those who could see it, Qaen had always held a commanding air about him.

It was unfortunate his own wife was not able to see that.

“Come in,” Ithur called, heaving a sigh.

The door clicked open, and Qaen entered. He skipped the greetings, directly stating: “My master has requested your presence.”

Ithur nearly choked. He had treated the girl like an empress — had it made her suddenly feel as if she had become the Empress? This broke demoness from the Fifth Ring was summoning him to her, with what confidence?

But he also remembered that abrupt and short-lived moment of a terrifying, biting chill.

Do you know me?

He sat still in his seat, conflicting emotions racing over his face.

Qaen watched his hesitation calmly without rushing him. He believed Ithur l’Rasel to be a wise man.

Eventually, Ithur sighed and set down his pen, standing up from his seat. “I suppose if a guest has called, the host should be hospitable.”

Qaen snorted impolitely. “Sure.”

Ithur glared, but nevertheless followed Qaen to the guest quarters. When he arrived, Qaen knocked on the door, calling: “He’s here.” His words were curt and rather impolite for a slave, but Ithur had heard the way he had knocked on her door.

It was subservient and polite, almost reverent — not at all like the proud Qaen that Ithur had known for two centuries.

The voice that came from inside was calm. “Bring him in.”

Qaen opened the door and stepped aside, his pale, ice-blue eyes staring Ithur forcefully towards the room. Ithur calmed his unreasonable nerves, patting away the sweat in his palms on his pants.

He entered with a smile, gliding forward with outstretched hands. “Dear Iara, was there a problem? How is it that you’re still awake?”

He found the demoness in a soft, pale-pink nightgown, her long, slender legs bare. They hung elegantly from the plush, white vanity seat she occupied, and her bare feet were buried in the fur rug under her. He saw her perfect face reflected in the mirror. Through it, he could see her dark, reddish eyes watching him from beneath pale, lowered lashes.

Something about the way she watched him froze his feet and the smile on his face. It wasn’t that she came off cold, or aggressive, or predatory — but rather, an emotionless, lazy smile curled her lips.

Ithur wanted to run.

Keeping her gaze fixed on him in the mirror, she greeted: “You came, Lord l’Rasel—”

“—Ithur,” he hastily insisted.

“Ithur.” The lazy smile on her lips grew. Her eyes finally reflected a readable emotion, but the cold mirth he saw in them didn’t ease the fear and discomfort. “I did indeed have a problem which kept me awake. It is so kind of you to rush here for me.”

Every cell in his body screamed at him to not ask further. But he also could not stay silent. Very reluctantly, Ithur forced a hospitable smile onto his face. Be natural. “I’m so sorry to hear that, dearest Iara. What bothered you at such a late hour?”

Iara finally moved, turning slightly to the side to imperiously gesture him over.

His body followed automatically as if he was hypnotised. He obeyed the odd compulsion he had felt at her beckoning, but when he came out of his foggy haze, he found that he was a step too close to her seat, his upper body basically leaning over her. His feet screeched to an abrupt halt and he swayed to keep his balance, but fortunately managed to regain footing and tried to shuffle away as discreetly as possible.

Her quiet purr stopped his movements. “Would you kneel for me, dear Ithur?”

Ithur hesitated. Should he, the firstborn son of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, kneel at the whims of this nameless demoness? An endless silence stretched on. He could feel another intent stare glaring into his back — it was Qaen. He knew Qaen was watching, watching to see if he would really kneel to Iara.

Iara’s gentle voice softened even further — the musical purr sounded deadly. “You do not wish to?”

Slowly, as if he was floating from the sky like a dandelion seed, he sank to his knees before her. He didn’t have to muse over his decision for too long, because he soon found why she had asked him to kneel.

Jolting back to reality, he yanked the pool of white fabric tucked away under her seat. It was a night dress, the silk night dress that he had gifted her that very afternoon. Rising back onto his feet and holding it out, he saw that the hem of the skirt was drenched in blood, and the blood had risen up, climbing up the silk threads slowly to dye the dress crimson.

A vicious smile played on Iara’s face. “Is it not such a pity that the beautiful gift you got me had to be ruined?”

Ithur felt a chill. This time, he did as his sensibility begged him to: he stayed silent.

That didn’t mean Iara wouldn’t answer his unspoken question. After a brief moment of silence, she snickered quietly and continued: “Your wife is really bold. Qaen mentioned that she came from a powerful family not even the Minister of Foreign Affairs could easily offend. A lady like that of course shouldn’t have to worry about whose slave a human is. She is noble and may whip any human she comes across bloody without permission from his owner.”

Iara’s words were sardonic and disinterested.

Ithur suppressed a shiver.

“Let me make this clear,” she said coldly, softly. “I am lending him to you. It is a favour. You may use him to satisfy your personal revenge, but if I find his flesh torn from him again, I shall claim this debt from the both of you married couple.”