Page 116 of Fated to the Demon Lord

“You were magnificent,” I murmured tiredly.

“Me? Denara, you were—You put the fear of the gods into me and the entire army.”

The medic hurried in. “I am the lead medic, here to serve you, Commander Vaelor. I can do up your wounds⁠—”

“Treat her,” Vaelor said, pointing to me.

Surprise crossed the medic’s face. “I thought⁠—”

“Who is in charge here?” Vaelor growled.

He swallowed. “She is.” He scurried to my side.

I’ll be all right, I promised Vaelor, who stayed nearby, holding my hand. You should rest.

Not until I’m sure you have been taken care of. He sighed. That was close. If Throk hadn’t shared you with the army, or said that he and his subordinates were to go first… A shudder ran through him.

I knew the chances were high that he would. Demons in leadership positions like to share pain and torture as a way to reward loyalty, as long as it is in order of seniority. Throk seemed similar to Raxus in that sense.

His grip tightened, his hand sweaty in mine. I didn’t know if it was from being poisoned or if he was still overcoming his own fear. He controlled the army. He didn’t need their loyalty—he had it.

And yet there are ways around that, as we both demonstrated. Loyalty prevents the scheming we got away with today. I groaned as the medic pressed a wet cloth into one of my more open wounds, and pain flared.

Vaelor shook his head in disbelief and more than a little awe. You are clever and damned powerful.

“I’ll have to stitch up some of these worse ones,” the demon tending me said.

Vaelor stepped aside but remained hovering nearby through the medic’s ministrations.

The doors to the dining room were thrown wide, and the three demons entered with Creedan in their grasp. They’d bound his hands, and the blood spilling onto the floor indicated they had shredded his wings.

He looked up with panic in his violet gaze.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Creedan said. “I—I can give you my lands. Anything.”

Vaelor glared at him. “Can you give my family back? My people?”

Creedan shrank away. “Look⁠—”

“Not only did you take my wife, my unborn child, and my mother from me, but you also forced my brother to prove his loyalty by having him kill the people he was supposed to protect. Don’t deny that it wasn’t your idea.”

“How about I give you my people? And my son and heir, you can have him too. Kill them and add them to your army. Just don’t…” Fear crashed across Creedan’s face.

“Don’t what?”

His gaze fell on me, as I lay there helpless and being wrapped for my wounds. And yet, there was no mistaking the terrified expression in his eyes.

Vaelor released a low chuckle. “It is tempting.” He looked up at the guards. “Give me your soul blade.”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier handed over the obsidian dagger. Vaelor weighed it in his hands but then said to the guard. “Hold him, don’t let him move.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vaelor stalked from the room and returned a moment later, a rose in his hand. The blood drained from Creedan’s face. Vaelor sliced at Creedan’s bonds with the soul dagger, freeing his hands and stuck the rose in them.

“Smell it.”

“Now, Vaelor⁠—”