A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

“Hmm,” she said, stroking my chest. “What was the blast of alarm you felt earlier, after your mom?”

I debated not telling her, but she was not the type of woman who would allow me to save her from the less savory parts of ruling a kingdom. Hell, she’d probably offer to torture them herself to save me the unpleasantness.

“Demon scouts. Govam says they travel in packs. We’ve only found one so far, but they’re looking for more.”

She jerked up to sitting. “Are you serious? We should be out there searching with them.”

I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back down, forcing her to nestle against me again. “Part of being a prince and future king is delegating. I can’t handle everything myself. I need to be able to trust my people to handle some of these tasks.”

“Right, well, delegate to me, then. I want to help secure the kingdom.”

“You are helping secure the kingdom. You are working on making an heir.”

She moved her fingers over my chest and then flattened them against my heart. “I’m going to assume you’re too smart to reduce me to nothing more than your broodmare. I can do both, one after the other, or even at the same time. Or don’t you know how ‘sperm meets egg’ works?”

I smiled and stroked her hair off her shoulder. “Honestly, I needed you here. With me. I’ll be interrogating the demons and assessing the trustworthiness of your demon friends.”

“They aren’t my friends, and that’s probably wise.”

A soft rap at the door announced Urien. I sighed, dreading getting up and going back to my life.

“I can do it,” Finley said, making me smile again. I’d known she’d offer. “I can make the demons talk. Actually, anyone from the dungeons will be glad to. You can delegate this. I can feel your hesitancy to do it.”

The rap sounded again. I called out for Urien to enter. He wasn’t accustomed to knocking, but we’d needed to make adjustments for Finley’s comfort. She still wasn’t too keen on having people walk in on our lovemaking, and there really was no telling when and where we’d go for it.

“No, I need to do it.” I explained why as Urien popped his head in.

“Good evening, your highnesses.” Urien offered a slight bow. “Sire, they have tracked down four more demons and put them into the dungeons. They are looking for more, but don’t think it is likely they’ll find them. They’ve mostly combed the kingdom.”

I kissed Finley’s head and rolled out of bed. “Thank you, Urien, I’ll be right there.”

Finley moved to get up, and I put out my hand to stop her. “Rest. Read. Relax. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then you can try to mark me again.”

She paused, her eyes darting to the open door, and then threw back the covers.

“While you’re doing that, I’ll work the everlass,” she said. “I want to harvest some at night for the elixir I’m making. How were your scales? Back to normal or still affected?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She paused, giving me a stern look. “It does matter. I want to know the extent of what I’m trying to fix.”

I almost told her not to bother, that I doubted this was something that could be fixed. Hope could be a dangerous thing. I didn’t want to dream of wings and scales if it would never come to pass. I didn’t want to insult her, though. She would try regardless, and if anyone could figure it out, it was her.

I described my color and the state of my wings while she listened avidly. Then she nodded, finished dressing, and went out the door. When there was a job to do, the woman didn’t know the meaning of rest or relax.

“Did you still want to meet…your mother over dinner, your highness?” Urien asked as I stepped into some leather pants.

“Yes. Tomorrow. Have Cook make her favorite. She might as well go out with a bang.”

“Of course, sire. And shall we have our crew excavate the gold?”

“I’ll see if she wants to be there for it or not. When I know, I’ll send word to organize it. We’ll only use those who are not also competent fighters. It seems we’ll have another battle soon. We need to prepare for it.”

EIGHT

Finley

The next day, I returned to the everlass field while Nyfain slept. He’d spent most of the night “interviewing” the trespassing demons and comparing notes with the friendly demons, who had translated out of earshot from each other so that their stories could be checked. When he’d finally trudged through the door, he had dark circles under his eyes and mussed hair. He’d washed off all remnants of his activities, but I could see the disgust in his eyes. He hadn’t liked the job.

I didn’t ask him about it. For all my bravado, I wouldn’t have liked it either. Killing demons as a means of survival or in the heat of the moment was one thing—it was a rough world and we all knew the stakes—but slowly and methodically inflicting pain to get information? It wasn’t ideal, and if the whole kingdom wasn’t on the line, I doubted he would’ve attempted it. But as Tamara was quick to tell me when she met me in the everlass field (she was not pleased I’d gone off by myself the night before when there were demons on the loose), the kingdom was on the line. Those scouts meant Dolion was readying for an attack.