Taming the Demon King

Conversations at Night

The walls of my room feel too ordinary for the night I’ve had.  At the banquet after the ceremony, the King insisted I sit next to him.  This meant my parents sat in a place of honor higher than their Enchantress and Sorcerer titles would normally grant them.  I don’t know what all happened.  I feel like I blacked out at some point, being overwhelmed with the circumstances. The demons kept calling me “Duchess” or “your Grace” depending on their rank.  The witches kept referring to me as High Enchantress.  I didn’t know what to do.  I relied on all my etiquette training to keep from embarrassing myself.

Half the evening the King held my hand.  I kept hearing this constant murmur of his thoughts to the point that late in the night I finally picked up on them without the aid of physical contact.  It took the whole evening, but it finally happened.  I would have to pull my hand out of his to eat.  But then I suddenly picked up on his thoughts.  And understanding him made it easier to understand the other demons in the room.

This wasn’t exactly a good thing.  Not all the demons like the idea of a witch Queen.  In fact I’d say the vast majority don’t like it.  The same prejudices that afflict witches also afflict demons.  Neither side trusts or likes the other.  Why would they ever think a witch Queen is a good idea?

All of this means being completely unsettled by everything that happened tonight.  Do I even want this?  I know my own mind, but this has me completely confused.  This is a path that I would not have thought possible, not in a hundred years or more.

A knock on my door announces my mother’s arrival.

“May I come in?” she asks softly.

I tell her to come in.

“How are you doing, sweetie?”  She is carrying a small tray with a steaming mug and a plate of cookies on it.  “I brought you some chamomile tea.”

I shrug.  There’s a lot to process and I’m not sure how I’m feeling about any of it.  I take the cup of tea, blowing on it before I take a cautious sip.  It’s still hot but I can manage.  She has flavored it with a bit of honey.  She sets the tray on my bed and sits next to me.

“How do you feel about the King?” she asks.

I think before I answer.  “I’m not sure.  He’s sincere, I can tell you that,” I say.  “Either he’s incredibly skilled at hiding his thoughts or he is completely honest about wanting me for his Queen.”

“Did he explain why?”

“He says there is a reason why, but he hasn’t explained yet.”  I smirk as I add, “I made him promise to do so.”

She rubs my shoulders.  I eat a cookie hoping the sugar will soothe my nerves better than the tea.

“Tomorrow he said he wants to meet for an informal lunch.  I explained my birthday isn’t for another few days so you would have to come with me,” I say.  “Are you ok with that?”

My mother smiles at me kindly.  “If you are ok with that, then I will come with you.  And I suggest you bring Stella also.  He needs to get used to strong witches,” she adds mischievously.

I snort a laugh in an unladylike manner.  Shaking my head I say, “If he wants me for his Queen, he’ll have to learn to live with not just one, but two.”

She brushes a strand of hair from my face.  “Try to get some sleep.  You have another big day tomorrow.”

I let out a breath.  “Don’t I know it.”

She moves the tray to my dresser and gives me a kiss on the forehead.  “Goodnight, sweetie,” she says.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

She shuts the door softly behind her.

I sit there for a few more minutes sipping my tea and contemplating my existence.  Then I get up, set the teacup on my vanity, and begin to unwind my hair.  I’m sitting in front of my mirror, my hair completely down and wavy from being the braids so long, just staring at myself in my formal dress.  I slip the necklace off and set it in its velvet box.  It and the heirloom tiara would go back into their protective vault in the morning.  The crystal headband I loaned to Stella sits on my vanity, almost sad that it is no longer in use.  I finger the jewels and smile.

A stray thought passes through my mind and I feel curiosity come over me.  Most telepaths can reach out over certain distances and talk to each other.  I had never been in telepathic contact with a demon before today.  My curiosity at whether I could contact the King from here got the better of me.

Are you there?

The echoes of my thought voice ring into silence.  I try again.

Are you there?

Again I’m only met with silence.  Either I can’t reach him or it doesn’t work that way with demons.  To be fair, he is probably staying in the honored guest quarters which are located in a tower almost clear across the castle.  I’m not sure how far my thoughts can reach.  And I haven’t really tried to reach anyone that far away, as I’m not personally acquainted with that many telepaths.

Is that you?

The voice feels familiar.  After spending the whole day almost attached to him, I can recognize the King’s voice.  Relief floods me that I can reach him from this far.

It’s me, I say.  Now I don’t know what to say to him.  What are you up to?

Oh the usual, he says, flashing an image of his guest quarters.  Around him are a bunch of older demons, several of which appear to be arguing.  I can’t quite make out their words through him, but I can see that some of them are upset.

What’s wrong?

I’m being scolded by my advisors for choosing a witch Queen, he explains.

I haven’t said yes yet.

I’m confident.

I can see that, I say, rolling my eyes.  

What are you up to?

I project what I’m looking at: my reflection in my bedroom.

You’re beautiful, he says.  Why did you contact me?

I shrug.  I wanted to see if I could.  In my mind I run through the explanation that I hadn’t really read demon minds before and my range being somewhat truncated.  I can’t explain why I can contact him from this far.

There is a bond between us, he says.  He sounds almost surprised, as if the words are a confirmation rather than a manifestation.  He seems as surprised by this as I am.

I am gathering that.

Do you want to be my Queen?

I don’t know yet.  But I promise I am thinking about it, I assure him.  Which reminds me.  You promised to tell me why you want me to be your Queen.

There is a pause and I can feel him shift in his chair.  He wants to talk about it but he doesn’t want to yet.  I did promise to tell you, but it would be best in private with just us and not me half giving you my attention.  I owe you that.

The mystery deepens.

Suddenly I catch a glimpse of his thoughts unbidden.  What he is hiding has to do with a witch and has to do with his past.  He has a story to tell me, but he isn’t ready to do that over telepathy.  He wants to face me when he does.  And more than that, he wants to see my face and know my reactions.  

Alright, I say.  I don’t trust you yet, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt.

I feel him smirk to himself.  Without you knowing it, I am doing the same with you.

He means that he isn’t as sure of taking a witch Queen as he projects.  And he is taking a leap of faith that I’m the right witch.  I don’t know if I am.  I certainly haven’t been trained to be a Queen and I don’t know if I’m capable of leading the demon world.

We’ll have to find out together, won’t we?

I look at myself in the mirror and make a face.

He tries really hard to keep from laughing out loud.  He is barely keeping it repressed.

I’m going to bed, I say instead.  I will see you at lunch tomorrow.

Sleep well, my queen.

Please don’t call me that.

What should I call you?

I pause.  Call me Eloise.  And I will call you Constantin.

Okay, he says.  Goodnight, Eloise.

I smile at the sound of my name.  Goodnight, Constantin.

I break contact and shut my mind to the outside world.  For a few minutes I mull over our conversation and the conversation with my mother.  Then I get up from my vanity and get ready for bed.  There is no point in deciding anything tonight.  I might as well go to bed.