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

40

Searra

I paced the intimate sitting room where my father and I had taken brunch together from age four to fourteen, the only time he belonged only to me and not the hundreds of demons he kept himself surrounded by. I glared at my usual seat, across the six-person wooden dining table from Devil’s high-backed, intricately carved wooden chair that used to make me feel proud to be his.

I flung myself into the gaudy, throne-like dining chair and slumped back with a sigh.

From the sound of things, Ash’ren wasn’t holding back. Good. As long as he was delivered alive enough to answer questions, my tyrant father deserved everything my mate would dole him.

I’d begun pacing again by the time I heard footsteps, along with another sound, like a sack of produce being dragged down the aisle.

For a moment I was a child again, running away so my father wouldn’t catch me being disobedient. I squashed that part of myself with a firm but loving hand. I was here now, safe. Err, sort of safe.

Pouring a stiff glass of lavaberry wine, I donned my queenly facade. I tried to embody the type of uncaring attitude that would leave one’s daughter unnamed until the age of five. The type of lackluster interest that made a nameless child grasp at hope, hope that she would feel her father’s embrace for the third time in her life.

Someone knocked. For good measure, I muttered a prayer to whatever gods my true family might’ve prayed to. “Come in.”

I did not stand. I didn’t even look their way. When Ash’ren dragged the lump inside the room, I pretended not to feel a sour squeeze around my heart.

Devil, wrapped in black ribbons like a holiday gift, lay at my feet. The only sign he wasn’t dead was the furrow of his brows. I toed him with my soot-and-sand-covered boot, which I’d deliberately kept on. His slow-blinking eyes raised to mine.

“My queen.” Ash’ren bowed low. He dropped to one knee, took my hand, and kissed it right above Devil’s head. He kissed each knuckle and up past my wrist. Even with everything going on, I couldn’t stop my giggle.

Devil rumbled in displeasure. I slipped my hand from Ash’ren’s and twinkled my fingers.

“Hello, father.”

His gaze narrowed. I could see plainly what painful thing he wanted to say.

“You’re right, of course,” I started, taking care not to show how much it hurt. “I’m not your daughter. Nor are you my father.” I sipped my wine. “Those titles never suited us anyway.”

Devil gave no hint of a response. My gaze trailed over him, noting the bloody mess of his wing, the horn sticking from his stomach, the stump atop his head. I glanced at Ash’ren, who shrugged casually, his most charming impression of an impish smile decorating his oh-so-guilty features.

“My love,” I cooed. “You were very naughty.”

“I’ll take whatever punishment Your Bone-Blessed Majesty would give, for I would do it all again.” He tilted his head menacingly. “In fact, perhaps you’ll allow me a little do-over? He still has too many horns for my taste.”

Devil’s face crinkled at the use of my stolen title. I let out a seductive chuckle. “Settle down. Let’s see where the night takes us.”

“As you wish.”

Ash’ren winked. He stepped around us to the drink cart and poured himself a glass of volcanic panic, bringing the tray of beverages to the dining table to sit at my left. I held up my glass and Ash’ren filled it with lavaberry wine. “Let’s get straight to it, then. Tell me about the portal.”

I couldn’t remember a single time Devil hadn’t seemed invincible. He was a cold but steady presence. No one could harm me. If they tried, if they made me cry, their whole family would suffer the consequences.

Now he lay tied and gagged at my feet.

I lifted a finger to Ash’ren and the gag dissipated.

“Daughter.”

His voice was so brittle. Hoarse with pain and defeat. This demon had taught me the many masks of a royal. Right now, he pleaded with me using his fatherly mask. Thankfully, I knew not to trust his many faces.

“Daughter,” he choked out again. “Trust me. You do not want to know.”

Ash’ren snorted. I shot him a look and he covered his grin with a sip of thick orange alcohol.

“Perhaps we could chat with some privacy,” Devil suggested. “Father to daughter.”

“Not happening,” Ash’ren stated flatly, downing the rest of his glass.

I considered the request. A small, insecure piece of my heart wanted to unwrap him and place my hand in his, the wisp-like gesture of affection he preferred, the bare minimum for a child to cling to as proof their parent loved them. Proof their caregiver didn’t mind their burden. Reaching to my neck, I calmed myself with the velvet fabric covering my scar. Whatever my tragic origin story was, it wasn’t worth risking my kingdom’s lives over, and I didn’t trust myself to be alone in my father’s presence.

“Whatever you have to say can be said in front of my king.”

Ash’ren choked, a dribble of liquid fire sputtering out. I shot him a bemused look.

“King!” Devil spat the word like it was venomous, then howled with dark laughter that ended in garbled coughs. “You cannot coronate a suitor without my permission, child.”

I finished my wine and twirled the empty cup in my hand. “I beg to differ.”

“This is my kingdom! I made this empire! It’s mine!”

“Once again,” I said, sounding bolder than I felt. “I beg to differ.”

“It won’t be yours until I give it to you.” A tiny flame flickered in the back of Devil’s throat before black flames covered his mouth again.

“I don’t think he likes that idea, my love,” Ash’ren sing-songed. “Should we cede it back to him?”

“Hmm.” I rapped my fingers on the table, then shrugged. “Nah.”

Devil squirmed aggressively. He looked so much like a fly in a web, thrashing to break free, that I giggled. Slamming a hand over my mouth, I shared a bright-eyed look with Ash’ren as Devil went preternaturally still.

“Ungag him, Ash.”

“Daughter,” Devil hissed. “This isn’t you. Please, let us speak alone.”

There it was, that flaming patronizing tone of his. In a moment of weakness, I shrank inside myself. A little black flame filled my empty glass, and I glanced up to see Ash’ren, steady, my rock. His gaze reminded me of our purpose. Reminded me that I was worthy.

“This is your last chance, Devil.” I stood and deposited my empty glass on the drink cart, coming to lean on the table in front of Devil. “Tell me of the portal, of my family, or I’ll have my king dispose of your life as he wishes.” Ash’ren perked up. “And trust me, he has wanted this for a long time. I’m the only thing holding him back.”

Knuckles cracked at the table. When Devil’s silence continued, the chair creaked. I kept my attention rapt on Devil, who scrutinized me right back. There was a huge crash as Ash’ren’s wooden chair collided with the far wall. It splintered into bits, then went up in flames, which turned to ash before reaching the ground.

“Is that fear in your eyes, father?” I narrowed my own into taunting slits.

“I fear no one.” Something flickered in his stony stare. “Except you.”

I flinched, hurrying to hide my surprise by retrieving my glass. “Is that why you stole me?”

“No,” he said with a bitter laugh. “My fear lies in losing you, daughter.”

“Then why?”

“There you were, a baby with ocean blue eyes and skin like watercolors, sitting in carnage, not a tear in sight. You smiled at me like you knew me, like you trusted me, and. . .”

I hardened myself against his pandering. I’d heard this story, though the carnage had been left out before. “And?”

“This conversation is best left unsaid. Or, at the very least, said only between family.”

I slammed my glass on the table and filled it to the brim with wine. “Continue.”

Devil sighed. “Might I at least be tied to a chair, so that I can look you in your eyes whilst I break your heart?”

“No.”

Devil ground his teeth. “Fine, then. A sip of volcanic panic?”

I hesitated, then stood to retrieve it. Ash’ren was there in a flash, putting a hand over the cup and guiding it back to the tray.

“He’ll only use it to fuel more flames.” He turned to address the tyrant. “Answer the queen’s questions. I’ve had it with your games.”

“You were a fucking mistake!” Devil shouted. I startled at the sound, too reminiscent of childhood. “A moment of weakness. A brash decision I rationalized as I looked into your manipulative blue eyes.”

“Why?” I demanded, finally swinging to face him. “Why did you bring me through the portal?”

“Because, Little Torch.” His fatherly mask was gone completely. He was almost unrecognizable but for the voice dripping with tyranny that I’d heard countless hours of in the throne room. “You’re the key to my empire. Fuck those Fyre pricks! They can’t have my bone-blessed land.”

“The succession laws,” Ash’ren breathed.

My attention snapped to him. I was completely in the dark. “You know of this?”

He gave a stiff nod and poured a shot of volcanic panic, extending it to me. “They’re insanely old Fyre laws from before it was even called Fyre. A thing of the archives. Useless in the elemental age, but no one changed them.”

I gulped down the lava extract and puckered, rolling my finger for him to continue.

“Before the territories were formed and balance was restored, there were kings every few feet. You couldn’t throw one king without hitting another. War was a constant.”

“Sounds like chaos. What does this have to do with me?”

“Because,” Devil interrupted. “I am the first king in this era. You, little one, are not just any heir.”

“You’re a decoy heir.” Ash’ren looked at me, a weight to his words that I didn’t understand. “You would inherit the people, the land, and the magical power within it all.”

“ My power,” Devil said, his dark tone imploring me to understand, but I did not. “Freely given.”

“No. Stolen. Sapped from the land itself.” Ash’ren roughly ran a hand through his hair to briefly linger on the stump of his horn. Then…he shrugged. “But things are different now. Those laws didn’t account for the sentience of the land. Fyre wouldn’t give its power up to anyone.”

“Sure,” Devil cooed. I forced myself to meet his gaze. The mischief there made my skin crawl. “Besides, you’re a mortal. It would never work.”

“What do you know? Does it have to do with my real family?”

“Your real family doesn’t matter. They’re dead.” He spoke as though reading the weather forecast from the newspaper. “I am all you’ve got.”

“And what about you, old man?” Ash’ren growled. He gestured, and the ribbons of black squeezed tighter. Devil made little choking noises as hate spewed from his irises. “What would you gain from giving her everything?”

“You’ll— arrghh —never— aruughhh —know.”

I sighed. Whatever enigmatic emotion Devil was trying to evoke, it was swallowed by the dull emptiness of his earlier revelation. All I’d ever been was a plot point. A power play.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and waved noncommittally at the lump on the ground that I’d once seen as a father figure. “Take him to the tower.”

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“You’re not worth it.”

“I will escape.” Devil sounded incredulous. “Didn’t I raise you better, stupid girl?”

His question ended in a yelp as a fist collided with his face. I squatted before Devil’s bloodied face and snarled.

“Let me be totally clear, father . You are king of nothing. You own no one. You are nothing.” I waved between myself and Ash’ren. “We have all the power you crave, and guess what, father ?”

He spat orange blood on the floor and remained silent.

“We’re going to give it all away.”

Devil’s brows slammed down, his snarl muffled as the mask of black flame engulfed his mouth, and eyes, wrapping around him completely. I stood slowly, smirking through the dull thumping of my chest cavity.