Page 87 of Tortured Royals

My mate’s eyes darken, her desire replaced with a hard resolve. “The witches are here.”

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

~ Princess Blake ~

Morning light shines on us as we race to the armory.Of course, the witches would attack during daylight hours when the demons are ordinarily heading to their beds.Majority of the demon army is already positioned beyond the castle gates, but off-duty soldiers stream from the barracks inside the walls, rushing past us as we walk into the armory.

Inside the building is chaos, and General Josek is already there, fully dressed for battle. Spittle flies from his mouth as he barks orders to the soldiers, and they strap on their armor, grabbing their weapons. “Hurry up you maggots! Do you think the witches are going to wait before they start murdering your families? The witches are killing demons as we speak!”

The ancient general walks over the moment he spies me, his armor rattling, and his tail flicking from side to side. I’ve never liked the psychotic demon who was always too quick to resort to torture, but he stood by Dad’s side during the last great war withthe witches, and it’s a comfort knowing he’ll be fighting with us now.

“Your highness,” the general says, his face as hard as stone as he stops in front of me and my mates. “I’ve never hidden the fact that I’ve always disliked you.”

My mates tense like they’re ready to put the demon in his place.

“Fuck listenin’ to that,”Nate comments, but I hold up a hand, making sure they don’t do anything.

General Josek doesn’t look the least bit concerned by their presence, though he must know I could have him slaughtered for simply speaking against me.

“You don’t say,” is all I respond to the demon general.

“I’ve never agreed with the choices your father made regarding you, including that stupid competition of his,” General Josek says. “But none of that matters now.”

My brows slam down. “What other choices?”

His gaze hardens like granite. “The time I feared has come, princess, and I believe your father may be right.” He clears his throat. “That despite it all, you and your mates may be the only ones who can save us in the end.”

“Nice to know there’s no pressure,”Dante drawls sarcastically in my head, but I’m too busy staring at the general to respond. From as early as I can remember General Josek has treated me with disdain, only interacting with me when forced to. For him to be saying this sends a shiver down my spine.

A strange spark of emotion penetrates the general’s hard eyes, and his hand twitches. For a startling moment, I think he’s going to reach for me, but he doesn’t.

He clears his throat again. “Your father has left something for you in the back room,” he says abruptly, and he turns, marching away from me and barking orders to his soldiers again.

“What was that all about?” Prince Callan asks, but I just wave them forward, leading them to the back.

My steps falter as we enter the small, adjoining room, and I spy what’s in the center of the space. Held up by metal stands are six sets of armor, all of them in different sizes. Intricate swirls and marks are etched into the metal, and the light from the sky window above streams onto the polished silver, making the air sparkle.

Nate whistles aloud, and a slender demon who’s fussing with one of the sets peers up.

“Princess,” the male says as we walk over, and I recognize him as Dad’s master armorer, Master Mathyl. The demon has the gift of being able to manipulate different metals to a small degree. I’d once asked if I could have the master create a set for me, but Dad had turned me down, saying I needed to learn to fight without the armor before I earned my metal plates.

“Are these…” I trail off, still unable to overcome my shock.

The demon peers at me proudly. “Hand crafted for you and your mates, your highness. Your father had me start working on them the moment he returned from Toralyn. Admittedly, I had to obtain help from a few of my assistants to get it done in such a short timeframe, but I hope you are happy with them none-the-less.

Stepping forward, I run my fingers over the breastplate of the smallest set of armor, and the wings that are intricately carved there.

“I would have expected the royal crest,” I say to Master Mathyl.

“Ah yes, your father requested those to be added. You’ll have to take that up with him,” the master armorer replies.

The demon smiles at the others, indicating which sets of armor belong to each of them. “Given the specifications provided by the king, and the fact I had no accuratemeasurements for your mates, my assistants and I had to combine our gifts to create armor that will respond to the wearer.”

“Meanin’?” Nate asks.

“The armor will adjust to your body,” Master Mathyl explains. “I also consulted an armorer from the beast realm to make this happen.”

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