A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #2)(123)

“Oh shit,” I breathed.

Oh shit, my animal mimicked. That’s handy.

It was handy. And I wasn’t terribly winded from doing it. I hadn’t read about that trick in any of the shifter books, though.

I released my will and turned. Four demons immediately crashed into me.

“That counts!” I yelled, shoving them back and bringing out the throwing knives. I loved those things. I wasn’t a master by any means, but I could get the pointy end in the soft parts of dummies.

I threw two in quick succession, hitting center mass. One day I hoped to pull off trick shots, like hitting them in the eyeballs.

What was wrong with me?

I stabbed another demon and turned his body to block the one approaching behind him. I peppered my demon shield with the dagger, then ripped him away and got the one behind him in the peeper. I might not be able to hit a small target with a knife yet, but I could certainly manage it with a jab.

Something was definitely wrong with the pride I took in that fact.

Nothing is wrong with you, my animal thought. That is how normal people think.

Coming from her, that didn’t inspire confidence.

Two left, one having just pulled the knife from his center. I took it back and stabbed him in the throat before whirling around and throwing the projectile toward the other one, gaping down at the knife sticking out of her midsection. It sailed safely by. I’d missed.

“Dang it,” I said, hopping forward and stabbing with my dagger instead. I got her that time.

In what felt like a moment, it was all over. I stood in the middle of a cluster of dead or dying demons.

The music had stopped. The deep bass from the demon machines had dried up. All eyes were on me, some wide, some over smiles, and some narrowed.

I focused on those narrowed eyes, demons all. Anger kindled there. The desire to do something. But they held back. They hadn’t been given the green light to try me.

I wondered how long that would last.

A slow clap echoed through the space.

I turned to find the demon king leaning against the doorframe. He straightened up.

“Well done. I didn’t think you could handle so many.”

“I’ll be honest, I was hoping for a glass of wine before we got to the nitty-gritty. Would you have let them kill me?” I asked, walking toward him. I figured this was my go-ahead to leave the room.

“Certainly. It would’ve dealt a terrible blow to the dragon, and better yet, it would’ve been his fault.”

“His fault?”

“For letting you make that deal, and for not being here when you needed him. Maybe not all dragons are loyal, young Finley, but that one certainly is. It will be his undoing.”

“Your mouth will be yours.”

I wasn’t lying. He’d basically just told me his favored method of preying on Nyfain. I’d already had a pretty good idea, of course, but this was from the horse’s mouth, as it were.

It also demonstrated his arrogance. He didn’t think it mattered if I knew about his little tests.

“So what’s my next trial?” I asked, grabbing the knives from the bodies around me. “Apparently you are under the impression I shouldn’t be enjoying myself tonight.”

“Not at all true. You are enjoying yourself, are you not?”

He had me there.

“There’s an odd thing in the air tonight, it seems,” he went on, leading me out and up to the second floor. From there, we ventured deeper into the castle. “The people of the castle are not taking to my minions as normal. They act like they are forced to be in our company.”

“I would imagine that is true, right?”

“An issue only until our magic affects them. But the magic of my minions isn’t affecting them tonight. Orgasms are faked, females are dry, and the males can’t seem to get it up.”

“Huh. Well, you’re all gross, so there’s that. And clearly terrible lovers. The things you learn when your magic is on the fritz, huh?”

We stopped in front of a closed door, and he turned to me, his eyes a dirty red that spoke of blood and death. I hadn’t realized they changed colors based on his moods. That would be handy. For instance, right now he was clearly very angry. A fact that wiggled my bowels a little despite myself.

“In sixteen years, we have warped the minds of these miserable shifters. We have bled them, poisoned them, tortured them, and slowly killed them. We’ve stripped them of their honor and forced them into depressed, shame-riddled lives until their miserable early demises. I have enjoyed watching the dragon slide into a dark pit. A few more years, and he would’ve begged me to end his life. He would’ve begged me for any way out possible.” His smile was cold. “And then suddenly a woman appears in his life, and he perks up. He wants to live again. He heals the kingdom and somehow deadens the effects of my demons. Quite the coincidence.”

I kept my mouth shut. This guy had gotten bad information. Nyfain hadn’t healed anything. Nor had he figured out how to deaden the effects of the demons. He also never would’ve begged this asshole for anything. He might’ve wanted to die, but he would’ve trucked on even after there was nothing left to truck on to. Or for. I knew that in my bones. He wasn’t like his father. Whenever he devoted himself to something, he gave it his all.

Dolion stared at me, looking for a reaction.