Page 78 of Prince of Demons
Selma’s gaze sharpened. “If I want it? Do you not understand—this stone is power. And it was given to you. Over the centuries, demons have fought and died for these things, but you would just… offer it to me?”
A flush rose to Georgia’s cheeks. Unbidden, Kesh’s derogatory words about her inability to take what she wanted resonated in her mind. But that was ridiculous. She didn’t want some demonic artifact weapon—all she wanted was peace. A quiet life with someone who didn’t hurt her.
“What would I use it for? I’m not at war—you are. Better you take it than me. I wouldn’t even know how it works.” Turning back around to the magnificent red gown laid out for her courting ceremony, she ran her fingers over the fabric once more, trying to find some softness in it. “As I understand it, all I can do is marry one of your allies to ensure your support doesn’t crumble and you lose this war. Love was never in the cards for me, but if I can help in some small way to keep yours intact… that’s a nice bonus.”
“Georgia—”
“I don’t want it. All I wanted at the start of this was for my brother to live. He did. Kesh cured him. I don’t want any part in demonic relics, or war, or… or Fate. Or whatever that goddess thought was going to happen when she gave me that stone. Please, just… just let me try to find whatever peace I can.”
Selma was quiet for a long time. Finally, her voice softer than before, she said, “The main thing I’ve wanted for our kind was agency over our own lives. If this is your choice, I will support it. But please know that you aren’t alone, even when it may feel like it. If you ever need me in your new life, reach out. I will come.”
The red gown was as uncomfortable as it was beautiful.
Georgia stared silently at her own reflection, trying to reconcile the perfectly decorated doll she saw in the mirror with the empty sense of despair gnawing at her insides.
She’d never given much thought to who she’d marry. If she’d marry. Sure, when she was young and had felt alone and overwhelmed with the responsibilities her mother had foisted on her, she’d harbored dreams of some modern-day prince sweeping in and taking her away from all the difficulties. But as she grew older, it just hadn’t felt realistic. To fall in love? To find someone who understood her, cherished her? No, that had never been in the cards. Not for her.
A firm knock on the door pulled her thoughts to the present. She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself, and turned away from the mirror just as the door swung open.
Kesh stood in the opening, dressed in his leather armor and with an iron crown decorating his brow. In his human disguise, he looked like a beautiful warrior prince straight out of a fairytale, and the sight of him made everything numb tense up inside her.
For a long breath, they stared silently at each other. Georgia’s pulse thudded in her temples, down her body and deep into her core where she still felt the sweet ache of their illicit union. A cruel reminder of those haunting moments where she’d thought…
She forced a breath through her nose and deep into her lungs, raising her chin in defiance. There was no point in poking that wound anymore, and certainly no reason to let him see how much it still hurt.
“Are my suitors here, then? Take me to them. I wish to meet my future husband.”
40
Georgia
Kesh’s only response was to hold out his arm in silent invitation to join him.
It felt like a mockery of chivalry, the way his posture remained arrow straight and his face a blank slate as he waited to lead her to her Courting. Like he’d never touched her, never been inside of her. Never called her love.
The skirt of her dress swished as she crossed the room and, hesitating for only a moment, placed her hand on his offered arm.
For a long breath, he remained still, frozen with her hand resting against his leather arm guards. She dared a glance up and met his eyes. And for a moment… for a single split second, she could have sworn she saw… something in those black pools.
It was gone before she could decipher what it was. If it was even more than a figment of her imagination.
Without a word, Kesh began walking, leaving her to keep up with his long strides.
He led her down long corridors with worn, red carpet still present from the days when the casino’s upper floors functioned as a hotel. Apart from taking out the slot machines on the lower floor, installing his imposing throne, and boarding up the windows, the prince really hadn’t done much to change its 90s-style free lobster buffet aesthetics.
As he pushed open the double doors leading to the stairs, a low murmur of voices drifted up from the throne room.
Her waiting suitors, no doubt.
“How many are there?” she asked, hesitating at the top of the stairs as she realized she’d never asked. Her previous courting had been just a handful of males. This… this sounded like a lot more.
“Just under fifty. Thirteen of whom were on the fence about whether to support us or the Europeans, until the chance at winning your favor arose.” He began descending the stairs, expecting her to follow.
She did, despite the knot of anxiety in her tensing with each step.
“Oh. Well… That’s good. Your brother must be pleased.”
“Yes. He must.”
