A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #2)(127)

“You seem a lot less worried about your kingdom than you did on my last few visits,” Dolion said as a basket of bread came out. Nyfain didn’t reach for it, so I didn’t either. Clearly we wouldn’t actually be eating.

“I have other things on my mind. My chief concern is holding my dragon at bay so he doesn’t kill you where you sit.”

“And kill the kingdom with me.”

“Exactly, yes. We all know the score. Just to be clear, though, while I might graciously defer to Finley when I see the need, my dragon will not. Nothing will stand in his way if he decides to tear your head off. Not the curse, not you, and not her.”

“And what, pray tell, has you so worked up?”

“Don’t play dumb, Dolion. You’re already stupid enough.”

A shock of power rolled through the room. Dolion was losing his temper. “Have it your way, dragon. You have forced my hand.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

Uneasiness rolled through the bond. Whatever trick Dolion had up his sleeve, it would clearly come now. Nyfain’s hand tightened on mine.

His dragon is losing his shit, my animal said, crouched just below the surface. She didn’t like the atmosphere in the room. I couldn’t say I blamed her.

The demon attendant opened one of the double doors. A moment later, in walked a blast from my past. Jedrek, dressed in an older suit, with black hair slicked back and a smug expression.

My heart sank. He’d finally gotten his audience with the demon king, and now he’d come to collect. I should’ve had Nyfain kill him after all. The only reason he hadn’t was because I worried how it would look for him. Damn it.

Nyfain gripped the table edge, his knuckles turning white. He was undoubtedly thinking the same thing I was, though I doubt he was blaming me as he should.

“Well played, sir,” I said under my breath as though speaking to Dolion.

“I believe you know this man, Finley, correct?” Dolion asked.

“You know I do.”

Jedrek’s gaze slid to Nyfain, and the blood drained out of his face. His step lost its strut, and his spine began to bow. If he were a puppy, he would’ve piddled himself. He still might. For all his bravado, he recognized when someone was higher on the food chain.

“I paid him a visit and told him to never look at you again,” Nyfain whispered, his lips hardly moving. I tried to hold back my surprise. I didn’t realize he’d done that. “I scared him to within an inch of his life. Clearly he thinks Dolion will protect him from me. I should’ve just killed him.”

“What’s he doing here?” I asked Dolion.

“Well, now, that is a funny story,” he replied. “He says he made a deal with the demons in his village, who had planned to bring him to the castle to meet their superiors. I couldn’t validate that story, of course, because those demons have since disappeared.”

The silence stretched.

“You’ll have to send up a signal when you’re tired of hearing yourself talk and want some input. I can’t actually see your face,” I called down.

Another burst of power bore down on me—incredibly unpleasant, bordering on painful. A gush of power washed into me from Nyfain or his dragon, reducing the effect somewhat. He’d clearly dealt with this many times before.

“He approached the demons who moved into the village, and they were able to get a message to us,” Dolion said. “When I learned he was from the same village as you, the newest thorn in my side, I sent for him immediately. He had a lot to say about you. It seems he was not exaggerating about your beauty. I’ve seldom seen your equal. He wishes for me to arrange a love marriage between you two, using magic to coerce your feelings if need be. In return, he has offered your firstborn.”

I suddenly felt dizzy. Nyfain’s expression was one of pure confusion.

“What?” I blurted, hardly able to wrap my head around any of it.

Dolion chuckled. “Pedantic notion, yes. First, I cannot make you want to marry him with magic. I do not make love potions. I won’t even get into the ridiculousness of offering a firstborn to a demon king. What would I do with it? Second, I’d much rather have a beauty such as you decorating my court. A gilded cage would suit you nicely. Loaning you out to whomever I pleased would be just the thing.”

Nyfain’s entire body tensed up. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head toward me a little and refusing to breathe. He was struggling against the urge to run down there and snap off Dolion’s head. I knew that because I was fighting the same urge.

“I had planned to just kill him,” Dolion went on, “but I have thought of a better solution. I cannot make you love him, but I can force your hand into marriage and all that comes with it.”

I breathed evenly, sitting very still. I hadn’t accounted for this in my scheming with Hadriel. This was not part of my plan.

“And how will you do that?” I asked in (I hoped) a bored tone.

“A trade, of course. You will marry him, bear his children—I have attendants to hold you down and force your compliance if necessary…”

Rage filled the bond a moment before Nyfain roared. He launched up, and his chair went tumbling backward. He grabbed the edge of the long table and strained for a moment before throwing it up and flipping it over. It went skidding across the floor on its top. The candles snuffed out, leaving only the flickering sconces on the walls. He rushed down the empty space where the table had been, hellbent on reaching Dolion, whose eyes had gone wide.