Page 40 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

Searra would already be in the dining hall with the nightly gathering of rich fuckers. I sniffed my armpit and winced. It wasn’t as though a little guppy in her pond like me would sit close enough for her to get a whiff, and I didn’t give six well-rounded fucks what the rest of them thought. Let my rancorous scent ward off anyone who attempted to sit close enough for their snobby looks to affect my jolly fucking mood.

Five, six, seven steps. The noise of the dining hall reached me before two guards opened the heavy doors. Eight, nine, ten—

My ears popped with the sudden rush of noise, immediately waving over me like dark magic weaving a spell to draw me deeper into the room. Fucking flames below, I’d never get used to this.

Searra stood from her fancy table for two at the dais and waved me over. An uneasiness slicked my palms. Every single platter was untouched, bearing the silver topper that hid important meals. Even Searra’s placemat, and the one beside her on the raised table.

“Sir,” Fara hissed, sounding a little out of sorts. She took my elbow and guided me to the front of the long table, motioning to the seat nearest the dais. Closest to Searra. Which was the exact seat I’d been headed towards anyway, but fucking whatever. Blood pumping uncomfortably, I shot a glance to the wide-eyed courtly woman across from me. Her nose wrinkled as I sat.

Fara offered a strained smile before scurrying away. On the dais, Searra stood in front of her table and raised a hand for silence. A snake-like demon that I recognized as a member of Devil’s asshole adviser team approached the dais mere feet from my chair.

“Princess Searra,” the man drawled after rising from a mediocre bow. His reptilian mouth curled in a half-smile, half-scowl that appeared well-lived-in. “An announcement over a special feast, two plates set upon the dais. One might believe your courtship was a success.”

The room hummed with delight, accepting his assumption without question. Small whoops and light claps rang out until Searra silenced everyone again. She was a ravishing queen, controlling these rich assholes with the slightest gesture of a hand that looked so dainty wrapped around my cock.

“My courtship with Filaris is over,” she said, her tone light. “Filaris was a special woman and one whom I will never forget. She is not why we are here.”

“I see.” The adviser hid his hands from Searra, but I could see them behind his back, tap-tap-tapping his forefinger and thumb in growing ire. “Then why the Hell are we here, princess?”

“Attendants, please.”

A flutter of movement andtingsof metal, and the meal was revealed. Fried canyon goose rounds, to symbolize fertility. Lemongrass bonbons for longevity. Orange thunder cakes, for alove as passionate as a volcanic storm. The hors d'oeuvres served every time a new suitor was named.

I stared at the lavish meal, the uproar fading into background noise. Dragging my gaze to the dais, I gaped at the woman I loved so desperately that I’d trashed any sense of moral code I might’ve once had, all to be by her side. Inside my chest, my heart burned and burned and burned, fire leaking from every orifice of my body. Searra returned my heated stare with a queenly one, her bright gods-given light leaking out for my eyes only.

Searra raised her hand, but this time, it went unheeded.

“Guys! Guys, please!” Searra grumbled, then banged her palm on the table set for two, rattling the silver. The room slowly grew quiet.

“Most of you have been in your stations since I was a little girl,” she began. Her voice was steady, the voice of a queen sure of her decision to upend the fucking laws. “Most of you were part of court when Devil banished a demon for asking my hand in marriage.”

“You can’t fucking be serious,” the adviser grumbled under his breath.

“The story Devil spread, claiming that I was a pawn in a game for the crown, played by a—ahem—pussy-hungry con artist,” Searra was forced to pause for the titters and whoops at her rare curt language, “was not true. I loved my station-less demon then, as I love him now.”

Another uproar, though it was silenced more quickly by the demon lord from earlier, who took three steps closer and bowed at the bottom of the dais, then straightened. His tone dripped with venom.

“Princess,” he all but snapped, “the matter of your courtship is not for you to decide. Let us take this up with Devil when he returns from Fyre. Surely, he will give your puppy—erm, Imean your criminal fuck boy—another chance, now that you are grown.”

My chair clattered to the floor. The snake jumped back a step, but it was Searra’s calm glance that kept my feet rooted. Bravely, the adviser met my glare. My warning was clear:speak to her like that again and burn.

“About that,” Searra said with a chirpy laugh. “Devil’s return to Fyre has been delayed.”

The demon’s eyes widened. “For how long?”

“Indefinitely.”

The room descended into madness. Through it all, Searra held my gaze captive. When she spoke next, she didn’t bother to raise her voice. Her quiet tone hushed the whole hall of richies.

“In light of my father’s abandonment of his realm, such decisions fall to me. Devil’s rejection is repealed. Ash’ren is owed one year at my side, per his legitimate request nine years ago.” She reached out for me, and I did not hesitate to close the five broad stairsteps between us. “And I accept.”

21

Searra

Charkam stomped to Ash’ren’s abandoned chair and righted it, banging its legs on the marble floor. The roar of nobles morphed into a tense quiet. I ignored the adviser’s temper tantrum and gazed lovingly into Ash’ren’s loving eyes instead.

“Princess—”

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