AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Judgment
Part 1
Chapter 1
“I told you to go away!” I shouted through the door as Carnon, the Demon King to whom I had become unwittingly betrothed, knocked for the fifth time.
“And I told you I’m not leaving,” he replied, the sound a bit muffled through the moonstone door between us. “So you may as well let me in before I have to use my unnatural demon magic to enter the damn room.”
I rolled my eyes at the obvious attempt to bait me. Carnon knew of my disdain for demon magic. Being a witch, the fact that I somehow possessed demon-like magic of my own was a mystery I had yet to solve, and I was determined not to use it.
“If you insist on sharing a room,” I replied, sketching a pentagram in chalk on the hopefully very expensive coffee table, “then you’ll have to give me some privacy once in a while.”
“As adorable as it is that you think I can’t open this door,” he shouted again, “I am trying to be respectful and give you the chance to open it willingly. Don’t make me be an ass.”
“Too late for that,” I shouted loudly and with as much contempt as I could muster. Carnon had been lying to me since the moment we met, and he had now tricked me into a magically binding contract to marry him. I was determined to be as difficult and unpleasant to him as possible until he decided to let me out of it.
A flash of gold behind me was my only warning that his patience had run out.
“Elara,” he whispered in my ear, making me jump and hit my knee on the table. Candles toppled over and my pentagram smeared terribly as I whirled on him.
My knee ached, and the bright magic inside me eagerly perked up, hoping to heal something. I shoved it down, angrily pushing it deep into my gut where it seemed to pout at me. Although healing was generally a magic of the Goddess, I didn’t trust that it wasn’t also some demonic ability that I shouldn’t be tampering with, and I didn’t love that this new magic in me seemed to have opinions about how I used it.
“Apologies,” Carnon said, gripping me by the elbows to steady me. He was no longer dressed like a hunter with casual leathers and a dark cloak. Now he was fully embracing his persona as the Demon King, clothes of fine make in all black with gold and silver brocade at the cuffs and collar. He was clean shaven, none of the scruff from his disguise as the rugged huntsman on his square jaw. A thin gold band rested between the shiny black horns that curled from his temples, making his hair appear more blue than black in contrast, and his tan skin glowed warmly as if he were the sun itself. His eyes, green with snake-like slits for pupils, widened a little as I scowled, and his lips curved into a devastating smile.
Carnon had guided me through the Bloodwood and across the Darklands, and he had shown me that demons were not the vile creatures that my grandmother taught the Coven to fear, but very similar to witches. Once, I would have been disgusted by the Demon King before me. Now, he looked irritatingly handsome, and it was challenging to remind myself to hate him.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said gently, his sharp canines flashing as his smile widened. It did things to me that probably should warrant deep introspection on my part. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out, pushing him away from me. He conceded a single step, raising a brow as he looked down at me.
For three days, I had refused to play the part of willing captive, declining baths and making myself as prickly and unattractive as I possibly could. I was still eating, because a girl has needs, and my needs now included macarons, but I was doing everything else in my power to be disagreeable. I was wearing the same clothing I had been the day he had confessed our engagement: simple leather trousers and a blouse, with a laced bodice over the top. My copper hair was braided back, but hadn’t been combed in three days, and probably looked like a nest. I desperately hoped that my face was splotchy with anger, and that my breath smelled.
None of it seemed to be working.
“Gods, you’re so damn beautiful,” Carnon breathed, making me roll my eyes. He took a step toward me again, lifting a hand as if to cup my cheek, his serpentine pupils growing wide in his emerald eyes. I flinched back and he flexed his fingers, dropping his hand. He peered around me at the ruined coffee table. “What spell were you planning to cast, Elara?” he asked with an unconcerned smirk, brows rising a little higher. “Something involving torture or dismemberment, I presume?”
“Break the contract,” I said, crossing my arms and glaring. “Then I’ll tell you.”
“I can’t do that, Elara, and you know it,” Carnon said with a sigh, turning away from me and plopping down on the couch. He sprawled across it, totally at ease, and pinned me with an appraising look. “And I promise, the day will come when you will be horrified you even asked.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” I muttered, tidying up my spellcasting elements and packing them away into the little bag Carnon had gifted me before I knew the truth. It had been such a sweet gesture, giving me a crystal and chalk and candles so I could still perform my witch magic, but it had all been to mask his lies.
“We need to come to some kind of understanding,” Carnon said behind me. I could feel his eyes on my backside as I tidied the table, and I hoped I was making him uncomfortable in a way that would torture him later. “I’ve given you as much time and space as I can to come around to all of this, but certain things are out of my hands.”
“What things?” I snapped, dropping the little bag next to the one I kept packed at all times, lest I miss the chance of escape. “I don’t see how there can be any understanding between us.”
Carnon sighed again, letting his head drop back onto the couch and running a hand over his face. He almost looked human for a second, before lifting his head again so that I could clearly see the horns.
“The Daemon Lords are growing impatient,” he said, his lilting, accented voice a caress against my ears that annoyed me to no end. “They want to meet my betrothed, who will be their Queen and rule beside me, as is their right.”
“Then you’ll have to introduce them to someone else,” I said, flopping down on the armchair across from him as ungracefully as I could. He smiled faintly at my attempt to be unalluring. “Since that person will not be me.”
“You have no desire to be a queen?” Carnon asked, sounding a little surprised by this. “You’re in line to be the Crone of the Coven one day. Is that not the same thing?”
“No,” I snapped. “It’s not. There’s no crown, and there’s a council of Mothers who help rule the land. It’s not like being a queen.”
“No king or queen rules alone,” Carnon pointed out, lifting his booted feet to rest on the coffee table. I smirked as he cursed. He had forgotten the chalk, which was now clinging very obviously to his black boots and trousers. “Elara, can I kindly ask that you do not draw with chalk on my coffee table?”
