Chained to the Devil’s Daughter (Mating the Elements #1)

13

Searra

"Y our Highness?" Fingers snapped. "Searra?"

"Hmm?"

Grasping for reality, I blinked rapidly. Filaris’ concern gave way to annoyance, her tone suggesting I’d been lost in my fancies for some time.

“Sorry, Filly. Only thinking.”

“Yes, I know. Ever since the Ash Render arrived, you’ve been lost in thought.”

“I don’t think he appreciates that name,” I snapped, then exhaled so hard I raspberried. “Sorry, sorry. I know.”

For once, it hadn’t been Ash’ren on my mind, but I kept that to myself. The gryffion carriage carried us faster than a falling star toward my first official trip to the labor rings. The groundwork for my rule was built in throne rooms and noble houses—shout out to Inferna, Demon Lord of Rings Three and Four, and the others willing to let me in on the secret rebellion they’d been setting the foundation for forever—but now it was my time to shine. I wasn’t a well-polished bone of the Forgotten Ones. Wasn’t even a diamond.

Would my people accept me as the face of their new nation? I was a spoiled princess, daughter to the tyrant of their holy texts. I couldn’t possibly ask for their blessing. I couldn’t possibly survive their rejection.

Filaris sighed. “It’s all right. I knew the risks of freeing him. You’re lucky I care for your soft heart so much.”

“So lucky.” I leaned forward, taking Filaris’ hand in my own. “Filly, I have loved every moment with you.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Technically, but still.” I wiggled her arm playfully, grinning at the reluctant affection on her features. “Even when you’re gone, I’ll always be your biggest fan.”

“Yes,” the older, wiser woman said as she flipped our hands to kiss my knuckles. “And I’ll always be your second biggest fan.”

We laughed, but the sound died quickly in my throat. I could easily imagine being with Ash every moment of every day, his broad shoulder to rest my head upon. Still, it was difficult to imagine not having Filaris’ steady advice in my ear.

Caught in my daydreams again, I barely recognized the words when Filaris informed me that the laborers had been evacuated to the eastern curves of each ring.

Due to the obvious nature of our plans, the nobles knew the Firefolk were being evacuated. However, it was best they didn’t discover the more brazen plans I would enact while addressing the laborers.

I came to once more when Filaris let out another long-enduring sigh.

“When I leave, you must follow the tradition.” Filaris was deathly serious now. “If you don’t take the fortnight to deliberate, you could lose the nobles for good.”

The skin of my lip chipped under my teeth. Filaris smoothed my mouth with her thumb, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. I wasn’t sure I could wait another three hours before announcing my courtship with Ash’ren, let alone a full fortnight.

The carriage driver shouted a command to the gryffions, and our ride slowed.

“Promise me, Searra,” my suitor begged. “Now.”

I opened my mouth to answer and choked on air. I coughed, but Filaris caught my shoulders and shook.

“Promise me!”

“I promise—” A knock on the door interrupted. Fara’s hand extended to help me down. I swallowed. I forced my gaze to Filaris’ and choked out the words—“to try.”

Descending the steps, I knew Filaris saw the guilt in my sad excuse for a smile. The disappointment in her wise yellow eyes seared into my soul.

I stepped out to a sea of dirty faces, and it was as though I’d stepped through my father’s portal. Nothing looked familiar.

Having spent my whole spoiled life in the inner rings, the dirt and grime of Ring Seven smelled worse than I’d expected. It didn’t take a stellar investigative instinct to note the half-buried bodies as the culprit of the stench. Burn marks marred hands protruding from the red sand, so full of blood it squished like clay.

I grasped my hands behind my back and stomped out the piece of my soul that wanted to drip tears over the wounds of every bedraggled citizen. They did not need another sob story written about their indentured lives. They needed a confident leader with a clear vision, though, in reality, everything was slipping from my fingers.

“Good people of Ring Seven,” I gestured to the carriage where Fuegis and Geysis were carrying out supplies. “Devil’s callous indifference has allowed the Firefolk to overrun your homes. We have come to guide them back into Fyre, where they can live wild and free, as we all deserve.”

“You’re going to get rid of Swiffer?” asked a small child from behind his mother’s legs, clutching a kitten with ears the size of his palm that were tipped with violet flames matching those on its tail.

Mews were feline creatures related to the great flaming gryffions. Docile and commonly considered domesticated, some nobles even kept them as house pets and complained when they acted like feral creatures. Despite all my attempts to trap the strays in my garden, I strongly believed no one could truly own a mew. The little critters often swarmed to the rings this time of year. Their typical habitats cooled while the rings, so far below ground level, retained more humidity.

I kneeled in front of the child. His bright red eyes and stubby horns reminded me so much of young Ash’ren that I couldn’t help glancing back at my lover. “What’s your name?”

“Markel.” He held up two fingers. “I’m three.”

I stifled a giggle and reached for the mew, who sniffed my fingers before nuzzling into my hand. “We’re only here to nudge the wild ones back to their homes. Your mew is free to do as she pleases. Take her with you when you walk the ring.”

“Walk the ring?” a woman stepped in front of the boy, nudging him back. “You’re asking us to walk?”

Still kneeling, I held the mew close to the ground. It hesitated to crawl from my arms, so I smiled up at the woman. “Only a one-mile-long chunk.”

Extracting the mew’s claws from my plain black chemise, I stood, nearly tripping on the crate someone had sat down for me to use as a podium. “Everyone who can walk is asked to walk the ring. It’s for your safety.” I glanced at the sheets and sticks they called home. Not a single one would guard against scared Firefolk. “You’ll follow behind my friends as they clear the way to the checkpoints. The Firefolk will be guided to the northern gate, to a landslide in Ring Ten where they’ll make their escape.”

Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd. I raised my voice, rushing to state more before their attention was lost. “Calm, please! It’s humane and effective. Oh, and all those who cannot walk will be taken by carriage. Please, trust me!”

The sea of faces became even more standoffish. Some adults hid children behind them while some fretted over nearby comrades who had difficulty standing. Still, most of the population followed orders and hushed, though I had the distinct feeling it wasn’t out of gratitude or unearned trust. Most of them were offspring of the original indentured servants, strangers from distant worlds who were ripped from the portal and forced into servitude for survival. They knew nothing but tyranny.

Markel tugged on my clothing. I looked down to see tears welled up. Glancing around, his mother appeared nowhere to be found. I dropped to my knees and gave him my full attention.

“Yes, Markel?”

“It’s my pa. He’ll die.”

My heart broke. “There’s space for him in our wagons, don’t worry!”

“No, no!” the kid blubbered. “He’s not a demon. His feet are broken.”

The child cut off with a sob, his soaked eyes pleading with me to understand. Brow furrowing, I searched the sand for clues.

“Your Highness!” a deep bellow came from behind. Fuegis. “You’re needed.”

“No!” Markel wailed. I took his hands in mine. I had no intention of leaving until I’d done something useful. “Please.”

From the height of a child, I surveyed my surroundings. Though I hadn’t thought it possible, my heart broke even more.

I saw hocked ankles of demons with paw-like feet and straight-legged humans, some being somewhere in-between. Many bore dirty scraps of fabric, none of which were the bright white color of fresh gauze. Scar tissue peaked from above worn straps, blood stains, and exposed bone. Some scraps barely clung to the skin anymore while some looked like skin had grown through the fabric, searing it to flesh. A handful of afflicted limbs weren’t wrapped at all and were barely sinew on bone. The majority of the victims were human or mostly-human, but there were some distinctly canine paws affected among the group.

“Phantom burns.” A hand dropped onto the child’s shoulder and squeezed. I looked up at Ash’ren, horrified. “Also known as the rot. Human feet are unable to withstand the black sands. That your pa has survived this long tells me he is very strong. Let’s go get him, what do you say?”

Flaming pits, if a single piece of my heart remained unshattered, it was lost now. Ash’ren scooped Markel up and situated the child on his broad shoulders. Markel beamed through sniffles. It was the first smile I’d seen since arriving in Ring Seven.

Tearful, I hid my quivering lips behind a smile in return. Ash’ren reached for my shoulder. His hand lingered in the air between us before dropping. Flame-fucking decorum, I wanted to crawl into his arms and hide, but at least one of us had restraint.

“You didn’t know. Your father sheltered you from the worst.”

“I-I should have known.” I bit my lip to keep it from trembling, but he was calm and collected, as always. The things he must’ve seen while digging the tenth ring. . . My heart panged like an arrow sliced through my chest, and I wanted to cradle his head in my hands. The people surrounding me, including my beloved, had known more pain in their lives than anyone deserved.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, planning to don my royal mask again. “Flames curse it,” I muttered. Closing my fist, I stepped back onto the podium and faced my people. Keynotes and planned speeches be burned.

“What you’ve gone through is awful. No one deserves to be treated like this. I won’t ask for your trust, but I plan to earn it. During my reign, I swear never to do anything without thinking of how it will affect you.” They didn’t know it, but they were all my babies now, and I would never hurt my babies. “Take your injured to the carriages and wagons first. We’ll await more vehicles before setting off. I’m not leaving anyone behind.”

Surprise rippled over the features of Ring Seven’s inhabitants. To my caravan, I demanded, “Send for more carriages at once.”

“Come on, gentle-demon,” Ash’ren’s voice, soft and promising adventure, drew my attention to him and the boy. “First, your pa. Then you’ll help me with the rest.”

Ash’ren made a silly noise, like a gryffion scratching at the bit. He poised one foot behind the other, rocking as though gearing up to launch them forward. Markel’s giggles were magic to my ears.

A weird sensation stirred in my belly. I suddenly became keenly aware of my womb and its cavernous emptiness. Watching the finest ass in the four territories saunter away with a random kid on his shoulders, I narrowly managed not to grab Ash’ren by the horn, drag him to my room, and tie him to the bed until he put a baby in me.