Page 93 of The Princess and Her Grand King

Aekeira burst into tears, shoulders shaking as she clutched Emeriel’s other hand.

"What do you mean you couldn't find anything?" Daemonika snarled, his back ramrod straight.

Faiwick’s shoulders slumped, his face ashen. “I am s-sorry, Your Grace. W-we searched everywhere.”

A tense silence filled the room.

The grand king looked… absolutely murderous.

Shit.

“We can still send a team to the mages,” Ottai was quick to add, desperate to curb whatever storm clouds were building in Daemonikai. “They might have the roots.”

“That’s a week’s journey at best,” Vladya countered, staring at Emeriel's pale, still body.

Daemonikai's hands balled into tight fists, speaking through gritted teeth. “How long does she have?”

Ottai shifted, uncomfortable.

"Two days, Your Grace,” Faiwick answered. "Three at most."

They all looked at him.

“The p-poison destroys from the inside, little by little,” the healer explained, nervously. “Every passing moment… it eats away at her organs. By the third day… there will be nothing left.”

Grand King Daemonikai threw his head back andROARED.

A thunderous bellow echoed through the walls, the building, the entire fortress… shaking the very stone beneath their feet as he pumped out heavy bursts of pheromones.

Spreading like wildfire, the compulsion’s strength dropped every common male to their knees. Heads tilted, hands behind their back.

The pressure so strong, Ottai went rigid… just like Vladya. Unable to fight the strength of his pheromones, they bared their throat too, submitting to Daemonikai's dominance.

"Calm down, D-Daemon, please…" Vladya said in a raspy voice

Another roar ripped from the grand king's throat, even louder and more intense than the first.

The stench of urine rose in the air and soldiers fell to the floor rolling on their bellies.

“I will destroy whoever is responsible for this.” Daemonikai’s eyesblazed, green and yellow. “I will find them, and I will make them pay."

Vladya, with visible effort, forced his legs to move. He was struggling, and Ottai could only imagine the turmoil the pheromones were wreaking on his half-mad beast.

"Your Grace," Vladya’s voice was strained, "please control it. Don't lose control in here. Please think of Emeriel."

Ottai, breathing through the pulsing pain in his skull, forced himself closer as well. “I’ll prepare the men for the journey to Mysticaria, Your Grace. We will ride all night and day, without stopping, without resting, until we reach the mages. We will return with the antidote."

“By then, her grave will be cold.” Daemonikai glared at him, sneering.

Everywhere went as quiet as a tomb.

“Get out, all of you!” he barked, his body practically vibrating with rage.

Rising to their feet, the healer and soldiers scrambled out, leaving only the grand rulers and a sobbing Aekeira.

Daemonikai gripped his head, face hardened, stomping from one end to another like a caged bull.

It had been so long since Ottai saw him lose his ever-present control like this. The sight was jarring. And borderlineterrifying. What if he went feral again?

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