Chapter 341

Four months later.

GRAND KING DAEMONIKAI

Screams echoed around him. The dungeon reeked of old blood and scorched flesh.

“I shall ask again,” Vladya snarled, dipping a branding iron into the hot coals until it glowed red. “What can you tell me about the dark mage who dared tamper with the mind of Urekai’s ultimate ruler?”

The iron hissed as he raised it, reflecting a glow in the prisoner’s wide, terror-stricken eyes.

The prisoner shook his head violently. “I don’t know! I swear it! I don’t know anything!”

“Wrong answer.” Vladya pressed the iron to the mage’s bare chest.

The sizzle of burning flesh filled the air, punctuated by the prisoner’s screams.

Grand King Daemonikai turned away, striding toward the dungeon’s arched entrance, leaving Vladya to his work. They had swept through the city, rounding up every mage in Urai, receiving the same useless answer for over a month.

Fifty mages they had taken, but only three were dark mages. All were held in lightless, soundproof dungeons, tortured day and night. Yet, none gave him the answers he needed.

His eyes fell on a cell as he passed. A mage hung upside down, his body a ruin of welts and open wounds. Blood dripped from his back as the whip cracked against him again. The mage’s roars would cease within a few hours. Iron collars at his neck, wrists, and ankles rendered his magic useless, as it had for all of them.

Usually, Daemonikai was patient. He disliked punishing the many for the sins of one, but that was before. He was desperate, furious with the world and himself. He was on the verge of madness, and time was running out.

The guards opened the heavy iron gates, and he stepped out, the gates clanging shut behind him. “Keep me informed of any new developments.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Yaz bowed low.

Still nothing new. No news on the dark mage. No evidence linking any of it to Zaiper. The Oracle remained away from Urai, handling loose ends, as she had stated. All remained stagnant.

The only thing different was the passage of time and his increasingly darkening heart. His blood boiled. Rage, his new companion, walked alongside him.

Everyone stood as Daemonikai entered the arena. Cheers and applause swelled, hands clapping in unison, voices raised in praise. His people waved banners, flowers scattering in the breeze as he approached the high dais.

The Grand Rulers stood, arrayed in their ceremonial regalia, every color and crest gleaming in the afternoon sun. Reaching his seat, Daemonikai turned to face his people.

“Greatest citizens of Urai,” his voice rang clear. “We stand before you today to celebrate this momentous occasion. The day your First Ruler,” he gestured toward himself, “and his Third—” His gaze found Vladya, who nodded firmly before briefly smiling at the crowd. “—proudly stand before you to announce we are free of mindlessness.”

The crowd roared. Shouts of victory. Fists raised in triumph.

Daemonikai let them revel for a moment before raising his hand for quiet.

“You asked for this day, and so here it is,” he said smoothly. “Drink, dance, and celebrate, knowing your rulers stand fully restored, minds unclouded. Our focus is solely upon you, our people. We will carry this kingdom to its next greatness, without the dark thoughts of madness in the shadows of our minds!”

The lies came easily now. He had practiced them until they became second nature. For a male who had despised deception, he had grown remarkably skilled in it. Skilled at deceiving his people. At deceiving his woman.

“Our lands flourish once more. The famine is long past, our crops grow strong, and the rains come of their own accord.” He lifted his ceremonial goblet. “To a new chapter in our lives! To the next level!”

The roar shook the ground. Females crowned with garlands threw petals, showering the arena in a storm of color and sweet scents.

“And before we take our seats,” he lowered his goblet, “the Third Ruler and I would like to welcome our females, the very reason we stand here today. Our blessings from Ukrae.”

The gates opened, and both princesses entered the arena.

Emeriel and Aekeira smiled brightly as they approached the dais. At five months pregnant, both glowed with the peculiar light often seen in expectant females. From afar, they could have been twins. Dressed in identical gowns, differing only in color, they were nearly the same height, though Aekeira was slightly taller. Both bellies were rounded, though Emeriel’s was slightly more pronounced.

As they reached the dais, Emeriel walked straight into his arms.

“Human filth,” the Voice snarled in his head. “It would be so easy to reach inside her and rip the little one free.”

Daemonikai held her tighter for a moment, then eased his grip. She smiled up at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. No, the ever-present sadness she thought she hid so well was right there.

“How do you feel?” he asked gently. “Does your chest still hurt?”

“Just a little. The healer ensured I took the potions, so it has eased.”

“Good.” He took her hand, guiding her to the seat beside him, Vladya doing the same for Aekeira.

“Thank you,” Emeriel sighed softly, settling herself, hand resting on her belly.

Hours passed in a blur of ceremony: feasts, oaths, and blessings. Throughout it all, Daemonikai’s attention never strayed far from her. Even when he spoke with ministers or acknowledged nobles seeking his favor, his mind was half-turned to her. He noted every smile she gave to every noble who greeted her.

“Look at Lord Jakal,” the Voice said. “See the way his eyes linger on her. He is unmated, still searching for his life partner. I wonder what he imagines now…”

Daemonikai gritted his teeth. Across the arena, Lord Jakal had taken Emeriel’s hand, bowing low to press his lips against her knuckles.

“Does he think of those thighs? The sweet thighs that have not opened for you in over five months? Does he imagine them wrapped around his waist?”

Daemonikai forced his jaw to relax as Emeriel glanced his way and beamed. He returned the smile flawlessly, then she turned back to Lord Jakal, speaking softly.

“Those pretty thighs,” the Voice crooned. “He will take her, and she will welcome him. His mind is clear… he does not mount his female half to death.”

“Shove those thoughts away,” Vladya said suddenly. “Do not let them win. Whatever they are telling you, it’s not true.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…” Daemonikai exhaled. His fists ached from clenching them, and he forced his fingers to relax, one by one. “Sometimes, it’s really, really difficult.”

“I know. I have lived this too,” Vladya said with pity.

“Congratulations, Vladya.” His tone was flat, but the sentiment was genuine.

Unlike himself, Vladya was fully healed. He had not suffered a single feral episode in four months. His mind was clear, his beast calm and engaged, more at peace than it had been in centuries. Everything had truly improved since Vladya started drinking from his Soulbond.