Page 74 of Tortured Royals

“Not at all. I mean sure, I don’t think they were happy I interrupted them, but all I had to do was make a bit of noise, and they figured out what I wanted.”

“Okay. Well, when you’re here, have them wait outside. I’ll call for you when we’re ready,”I tell her.

“Roger that,”Shade chirps, and she’s silent again.

I follow the others down the stairs to the dining room and carefully place the salad in front of Gloria this time. After the first incident, Alaric swapped places with me, and I struggle not to grin as Alaric leans uncomfortably close to Scyro, purposely getting into his personal space. The clan leader glares at my assassin, clearly not happy about the swap, but Alaric glowers at him so fiercely that I think he’s too scared to complain.

It’s an hour later when we’re walking back to the room holding plates of a fine dessert with layers of chocolate and white mascarpone cheesecake topped with gold leaf and berries.

“Hold on, so you’re telling me Ivar poisoned the dessert?”Shade shrieks when I lament how good it looks.“What kind of monster is he?”

“One who’s about to regret getting into bed with the witches,”I tell her.

During the past courses, Ivar spun tales of the laws he would change in the realm and how this would benefit all demons, but none more than the influential clan leaders now at his table.

“Ah, the final course,” Ivar says eagerly, rubbing his hands together. “My chef’s specialty cheesecake. My favorite.”

As the clan leaders reach for their spoons, Gloria asks, “You’ve spoken about changing demon law, Ivar, but what about the witches? Rumor has it that Toralyn is currently under attack. Please tell us how you plan to ensure our survival and victory against them.”

Everyone turns their gazes to Ivar, and Scyro is the only one to shove a spoonful of cheesecake into his mouth.

“This is it,”I say to my mates.“Once Scyro is dead, the others will see how Ivar tried to poison them.”

“You should eat,” Ivar insists. “The cheesecake truly is?—”

“You speak about making Seral stronger, but how will your leadership protect us against the witches?” Gloria says, interrupting him. “King Dalton has fought them before, and he’s the reason we’re all still here. What makes you think you can handle the witches any better?”

Ivar gives her a forced smile, his gaze flicking to her dessert before fixing on her face. “Like you said, rumor has it the witches are busy in Toralyn. They’re not our problem right now. The angels will wipe them out.”

He indicates with his hand to the dessert. “Now, if you please.”

“And if they don’t?” Gloria says, making no move to eat her dessert.

“As I discussed, you would all become my trusted advisors, including when it comes time to discuss matters of war,” Ivar snaps, his gaze darting to Scyro and then to Gloria. “But for now, let us enjoy this?—”

Before he can finish, Scyro coughs, spittle flying onto his plate as his face starts to redden.

Gloria’s head jerks to the demon leader from the Zetar clan. “What’s wrong with him?”

Ivar gestures to one of the servers behind him. “Help him!” he snaps. “He’s choking.”

The server hurries over to the clan leader, but when they draw close to Scyro, the demon starts coughing more violently, froth starting to bubble from his mouth. He lifts his hand to his throat as his eyes bulge.

“It’s the dessert!” Gloria shouts, pushing her plate away, and the other clan leaders around the table all follow her lead, placing down their spoons.

“What is this?” Another clan leader yells, jumping to his feet.

“He’s choking and needs assistance,” Ivar says gruffly, shooting to his feet as well. “What do you take me for?”

“You tell us,” Gloria snarls as more green ooze bubbles from Scyro’s mouth.

Scyro coughs, and green spittle sprays onto the table. More of the demons lift to their feet, pushing out their chairs.

Bracing his hands on the table, Scyro lets out a few more ragged coughs. His coughing changes to strange, frantic laughter, and then his laughter abruptly stops when his body turns to ash. The clan leaders stare in shock as his empty clothes crumple to the floor, and his horns land heavily on the table.

The servers start backing away, scurrying from the room.

“You killed him!” Gloria shrieks, pointing at Ivar’s horns. “That’s witch poison!”

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