Taming the Demon King

Birthday Present

My mother takes the last opportunity to do my hair herself, weaving intricate braids in a crown around my head.  A tiara will sit atop, settling into the hair and tucking nicely with the natural crown.  I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror, feeling the ending of childhood and the looming presence of the future.

My mother says nothing, but she doesn’t have to.  Her telepathy transcends words and she only expresses support and love.  She squeezes my shoulder when she finishes my hair.

Stella sits perched on my bed as usual.  The tiara I loaned her is now hers in full.  I told her I wanted her to keep it.  She agreed to go with me to the Demon Royal Court and I said it would be my present of thanks.  No doubt there would be many more jewels in her future than just those.  We would be representing the Maison Royale and would need to maintain appearances.

A soft knock on the door heralds my father.  He pokes his head in and says, “The King is here to see you.”

A tremor of nervousness goes through me and my mother’s hand on my shoulder squeezes in solidarity.  I know what I am about to commit to.  And I know how much my life will change. 

“Send him up,” my mother says.  “We’ll greet him and then leave you alone to talk.”

My father smiles at me and then heads back out the door.  A few minutes later he opens it wide revealing the King and his bodyguard standing in the hallway.  Constantin makes eye contact with me as he steps into my room.  I could swear a slight blush pinkens his cheeks as he looks at me.  

I have to admit I look the part today.  My gown is a deep navy velvet so dark it’s almost black.  The neckline curves deeply from almost the point of my shoulders with thick silver embroidery filling the edges.  Long sleeves end in matching silver cuffs and more intricate matching embroidery traces along the hem.  The silhouette is vaguely medieval but with a slightly more modern bodice.  I love this dress and feel very glamorous in it.  The color offsets my hair nicely.

In his hands Constantin holds a velvet box.  He extends the box to me silently saying, Your birthday present.

I take the box and set it on my vanity.  Opening it reveals a large tiara, almost a crown really.  It is composed of intricate filigree in black and white gold.  Along the points set several moonstones with a large cabochon sitting in the center catching the light.  Against my hair it would stand out in stark contrast.

My mother gently lifts the crown from the box and Stella murmurs her approval.  I face the mirror as my mother nestles the crown between my braids and pins it in place.  The weight is not insignificant.  I expect it to be heavy though.  And I am prepared for it.

“It’s beautiful,” I say aloud for the sake of my mother and Stella.  My mother may be a telepath, but she admitted she can’t hear it when Constantin and I speak to each other telepathically. We have some sort of private communication not like that used between witches.  I only hoped that proved to be true with demons as well.

“May I have a moment alone with Constantin?” I ask.  The King smiles slightly at my use of his first name.

“Of course,” my mother says.  Stella hops up from the bed and the two step outside, shutting the door softly.

“You’ve made your decision?” he asks softly.  He knows I have.

“I made it a few days ago,” I say.  “I just needed time to think it through and make sure it was what I really wanted.”

He waits.  He doesn’t say anything, just waiting for me to make my answer known.  I stand up from the vanity and approach him.  He looks at me quizzically, wondering what I am doing.  I reach out and take both of his hands.

“I will be your queen,” I say.  “You know my hesitations and my concerns.  But I believe in the vision and I believe you have good intentions.”

He gives a wry smile as he says, “Despite being a demon.”

“Something like that,” I answer with a chuckle.

“And your family and Stella all know you answer?”

“Yes.  Stella says she will accompany me,” I answer.  Stella wouldn’t let me dissuade her really.  She said I would need the support.

He squeezes my hands and I feel the wave of relief going through him.  He was genuinely concerned I would say no.  And then the world would be in jeopardy in ways we don’t quite understand yet.  

Silently he says, I have something else for you.

He releases my hands and reaches into a pocket.  Out comes a small velvet jewelry box and something that I immediately know is a ring.  He opens the box revealing the stunning contents within.

This was my mother’s, he explains.  She and my father both died about three years ago. She would have wanted the reigning Queen to have it.

He gently slips my usual emerald band off my left hand and slides the ring on in its place.  I put the band on my right hand with my daisy ring.

For a moment I just admire the piece.  Objectively, it’s a gorgeous ring.  Again it’s composed of black and white gold, similar to the crown I’m now wearing.  However, this is what I would call a classic demon style.  The filigree is spiky and not at all delicate.  The central stone is held in place by a series of miniscule claws.  And that stone is quite a stone.  Rather than a standard white diamond or any other stone, it’s a blood red stone he silently tells me is a rare red diamond.  The kind of diamond that is beautiful because of the flaw in its making.  A red diamond feels like a powerful symbol for this relationship that is just beginning.

I promise you this, he says.  I will be respectful and gentlemanly.  I will respect your space as we get to know each other.  I know what he is saying and I feel relieved he said it and I didn’t have to ask.  I am not at all prepared for anything beyond holding hands and a cordial kiss right now.

Thank you, I say.  I promise to be open minded about this and everything ahead of us. I know this is a tall order for me to say this, but I want to give him the benefit of the doubt as much as I can.

I promise to do the same, he says.  We have a long road ahead of us, but I believe in this.  I believe in you.

I smile at him and say, I believe in you too.

A moment or two pass with each of us processing what has just happened.  I feel him working up to saying something and wondering if he is going to cross a line.  I squeeze his hand to remind him I can feel the murmur of his thoughts.  I want him to be honest with me.

Sorry, it’s just that it’s customary to seal an arrangement with a kiss.  He is almost blushing as he says it, a fact that endears him to me greatly.

I’ve only been kissed a few times before, I say with some embarrassment.  None of those kisses have ever meant near as much as this one will.

Same, he says.  I am surprised at the answer but somewhat gratified.

You may kiss me.

Awkwardness sets in.  I’m not sure what to do and neither is he really.  Finally after a few moments of staring at each other, he put his arm around my waist.  He pulls me the half step towards him so our bodies are up against each other.  I put my arms around his neck and realize this won’t even be like the few make-out sessions I’ve had in the teen years.  He leans down and kisses me.

In the time that kiss takes place, I feel like an eon could have passed.  I’m lost in the kiss the moment it starts. The depth of the kiss shakes my soul in a way I didn’t anticipate.  I find my lips moving with his and the taste of him filling my mouth.  He tastes vaguely of dark chocolate and spices, but almost as if it’s a hint rather than the actual flavor.  For a moment I don’t want the kiss to end.

We both pull back and he rests his forehead on mine.  He is a good head and shoulders taller than me.  I pull my hands down from his neck and rest them on his chest.  Through the leather of his tunic, I can feel his heart beating.  

I don’t know what my feelings are, but at the moment I am overwhelmed with them.  I like him, that much I know.  Enough to marry him?  I feel it’s a moot point.  It doesn’t matter if I like him or even love him.  There are bigger things than love and our partnership would have to be founded on that.

He cups my cheek with his hand and stares into my eyes for a moment.  I brush my fingers on his cheek in return, feeling the constant rumble of his thoughts below the surface.  I realize then that the telepathic bond between us tightened with that kiss.  And it dawns on me that more physical contact would only deepen the connection.  Slowly we pull away from each other, needing a moment.  

I look down at my dress and make minute adjustments.  Nothing is out of place but I check the mirror anyway.  I fix my lipstick and check him for it as well.  Without thinking I reach up and use my thumb to brush the lipstick off his mouth.  The move is so intimate, so natural that I am taken aback by how I feel.

I take a deep breath and steady myself.

“Are you ready?” he whispers.

I smile at him and take his offered hand.  “I am.  Let’s go break the news.”

He squeezes my hand.  Together we head out of my bedroom to face the music.