She was praising me, for killing him? Zinlia sipped her tea again, gracefully, not even reacting to the awful smell of burnt flesh.
“You—” I stammered. “You’re not mad or scared? What if I burn you next?”
“Oh, darling, let’s not?” she waved her hand like she was chasing off a fly. “Virraan’s life was forfeit the moment he tried crossing the King’s orders of not touching you. I doubt my Lord will mourn him much, if at all.”
I must’ve gone mad. Nothing made sense here and I had no information about why I had been taken. My eyes locked on her as I saw her stiffen, eyes sliding slightly backwards as if watching something behind her.
There was nothing.
Her focus turned back to me, eyes sharper than before as she placed her cup on the small table.
“He wants to meet you now,” she instructed.
“I won’t be summoned like a dog,” I said, trying to keep my voice cool as I crossed my legs and leaned back on the couch.
A faint smile spread on Zinlia’s lips. It looked oddly warm and kind, which made me shiver even more, because I knew it was probably the opposite.
“I admire your stubbornness, but I’m afraid it matters not,” she continued. “Youwillmeet with him.”
Zinlia rose to her feet, hands clutched elegantly in front of her as she looked at me, waiting.
“And if I refuse?” I arched a brow at her.
She gave the remains of Virraan a bored glance. “Well, you want to protect your friends, right?”
I clenched my teeth. “Are you threatening them?”
“Simply giving you advice,” she corrected and looked at me again. “I’m afraid our King is not of the patient kind.”
I sighed heavily, letting the moment drag out for a breath longer before I rose. “Fine. Take me to the DemonKing.”
CHAPTER
27
Zinlia guided me out of my confinement.
Beyond the room where I woke up, the décor followed the same style; dark and flashy, golden frames around the paintings, the floor covered in a vivid red rug that was a sharp contrast to the darkness.
There were statues of weird monsters, sharp teeth, horns, I had never encountered any of them. Maybe they weren’t based on real demons…or maybe there were abominations here we could never have imagined. I guess Virraan indicated as much.
The air smelled of sulfur and cold iron, of something ancient. My footsteps echoed faintly behind hers—steady, human, small against the vastness of this place.
Zinlia said nothing, her long black hair danced with every movement, the very picture of perfect hair.
Red banners dripped from the walls, embroidered with sigils I didn’t recognize, but most of them were torn down the middle…
By the time we reached the great doors, magic itched beneath my skin, restless and hot. The fire in me wanted out. I forced it down with a breath. I would not show fear.
Not here.
Zinlia stopped before the doors, placing a pale hand on the blackened metal. The shadows across the surface pulsed faintly, alive. Was it magically sealed?
“The King will see you now,” she said, her tone flat as stone.
The doors groaned open, heat washing over me—not from fire, but power. It thrummed through the marble floor and up my legs, prickling my skin like static.
The throne room was vast, a cathedral of obsidian and shadow. Pillars twisted upwards like petrified trees, and at the far end sat the Demon King.
