Page 17 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

Hell had such potential. Bones of the Forgotten Ones could fortify any metal, stone, or spell. Typically found five kilometers below the surface, the resource was not as common in other areas of Fyre. The special bones could make Hell a thriving kingdom, one that contributed to Fyre as a whole. Instead, it was a cesspit of greed and death. A blight on the map of the fire elemental territory.

If I could pull it off. I sighed and rested my elbow on the wooden ledge, chin in hand.

“You’re doing fine.” Filaris squeezed my knee. “You’re already a strong queen.”

I accepted her misplaced comfort.

Soon, I would ease the ache that had embedded in my chest the first night Ash’ren showed me the labor rings. I would end my people’s suffering. The destiny I chose for myself would come to pass after decades of believing in a fanciful dream. The waiting, the planning, the emptiness and the hopelessness of doing nothing day in and out. Of standing by while my people were harmed. The flames-forsaken hoopla I was forced through for the nobles’ sake. I would finally stop being a helpless damsel in fancy clothes.

∞∞∞

The evening was a blur. As always, the nobles of rings One and Two, plus a few stragglers from Three, gathered in the dining hall to sup. My father’s vanity required such daily gatherings, lest his richer subjects forget how fantabulous he was.

I picked at the beef tips on my platter, kicking my uncomfortable heel against the wooden panel of the table I shared with the suitor-of-the-year on the dais. Filaris was mingling in the hall, while I grew exhausted trying to keep from searching for Ash’ren every few seconds. His discomfort was palpable from across the room, and I itched to take him to my rooms and show him how I’d missed him.

Clearing my throat, I waved to my lead attendant. Fara was a sweet, quiet woman who’d been my companion since my father gifted her to me—ick—after seeing how lonely I was with my only friend locked in a flaming tower. When we first met, she’d been a deliriously devoted follower of Devil’s false religion. That kindof brain-blistering hogwash never really leaves someone, but I can’t fault her without being a hypocrite myself.

I cast a farewell smile to Filaris, who inclined her head before returning to her conversation with Infernia, the business-savvy demon lord of Rings Three and Four, known for its blacksmiths, tinkerers, stonemasons, and other trades. Infernia was a silent but steadfast supporter of the rebellion who’d been laying the groundwork for this day long before I was born.

“He’s already gone to bed, my lady,” Fara informed quietly when I glanced around the room. “I had Smok’in follow to assure he arrived unharmed.”

“Unharmed? Are the people so alarmed by his arrival?”

“Some. Mostly your coven of jealous exes.”

I snorted, causing a passing noble to sneer in our direction. Whoops. “Then Smok’in will not be enough. Our friendly guard might only get in the way.”

“True. I heard his journey here was a hot one.”

“Yes.” I hesitated. “Fara, do you think I have changed greatly?”

Fara was quiet for the final paces to the grand entrance of the royal living quarters and all the way to my room, where she took my hand and squeezed.

“No one can stay the same for nine years. You’ll both learn to love again, Your Majesty.”

“Please, it’s Searra on this side of that door,” I scolded halfheartedly. My gaze snagged on the wall hiding Ash’ren, sleeping in his guest rooms.

“It’s been many days since I was brought to your home, dear. I don’t think the habit will break now.”

“Then some people don’t change after all.”

Fara swatted my arm, drawing my attention to my friend. “Of course, noteverythingchanges. You have a sturdy foundation to build upon.” She took my shoulders beforebusying herself with my braids. “He burned down Hell, the sacred ground of a deity. That should not be possible. Rejoice, he’s returned to you, and if the two of you can’t defy even more laws to be together, there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

I winced. “Fara, my father is no—”

“I know, I know,” Fara said sheepishly, tucking her hands around her chest defensively. “Still. It’s good advice, okay?”

“All right. Good night, Fara.”

Fara opened the door and bowed out of the room.

Nine years and my bedroom had never truly become my own. The shelves were full of books we’d read together. The bed canopy was covered with stars we’d crafted together. The velvet-soft throw at the end of the bed, the very one we’d covered our bodies with in the early days of our exploration. Memories that’d contributed to the crushing depression I’d miraculously waded through all this time. Most of all, the window with a view of the gardens through branches of a dragoncherry tree.

I opened the window a crack.

My gaze slipped to the golden door. Filaris would sleep there tonight, where many others had slept before. Soon it would be Ash’ren’s turn to lay his head upon those pillows, but I doubted they would feel his weight a single night.

“All righty, almighty,” I chirped. Clapping my hands, I busied myself around the room. A wild flash of deja vu sent me spiraling through the wrong timeline, giggling like a cannibal on a Sunday.

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