A Demon's Wrath Novella: One Night with the Demon King (2 page)

Two moons prior…

Van Zandt Palace, Dardania Kingdom

LADY CECELIA VAN ZANDT STARED at her king
sprawled back in his mahogany and golden chair, his plump hands
resting atop his prominent belly. He was contemplating his giant
ruby ring on his porky finger, ignoring her speech of plea.

She felt quite annoyed by his lack of
interest. He looked as though he were about to fall asleep, but she
knew he wasn’t because he was now playing with the ring.

How could he not care? He was her king and,
more than that, her uncle. How can he act as though he has not a
care in the world?
My mother is dying, for God’s sake.

“Surely, sire,” she said, staring at his
hazel eyes and chubby face. “Could you not send your most trusted
and strong soldiers to fetch it?” She raised her hand in the air to
stress her point. “There are many strong soldiers in our
kingdom.”

“My dear child,” he said, finally looking at
her. “You are young and your mind is weak with neither thought of
danger nor death. Listen well, child…”

Cecelia grimaced. She wasn’t a child
anymore. She had seen ten and nine summers past, and that made her
a grown person. Of course, the king didn’t think thus.

She was petite and, to her annoyance, came
short on all the womanly traits men seemed to adore. She was too
thin, her hair too dark, and her skin not at all petal white, as
fashion required. This was because she’d spent too much time in the
sun. She knew people had been comparing her to Queen Eliza Van
Zandt, Lady Rosanna Van Dyck, and Lady Juliet Van Dyck, who were
all fair beauties.

“I will not send my soldiers to die,” the
king said abruptly.

“But, sire, ’tis the only way Mother can
live. The healer said she will soon die if we do not do something.
The Pearl of Life will cure the poison.”

“There is nothing we can do,” he said
slowly.

Cecelia was angry. There was always a
solution to a problem, but the king was a narrow-minded man. She
knew he would prefer to do what was safe for him.

She fisted her hands and said through
gritted teeth, “You do not care for your brother’s wife, then?”

King Leroi Van Zandt turned to look at his
niece, his hazel eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in her
person.

“Child,” he said, sitting up straight in his
large, dominating chair. “I do care for your mother.” He lied and
felt no guilt because it came too easy these days. “It is simply
too dangerous even for an excellently trained soldier. I do not
care to let my men set foot in that forbidden land. The creatures
that inhabit that sea of death and those monsters roaming in that
forbidden forest, not to mention the demons themselves.”

“But Mother’s life depends on—”

“Have you ever met a demon?” he asked.

Cecelia closed her eyes. Her heart began to
beat faster. Her mind flashed back to that night three years ago
when she’d first sighted the demons. They were monstrous creatures
with two thick, black horns on their heads, faces and large
bear-like bodies resembling a beast. She shivered as she remembered
the fire burning down walls and furniture, devouring everything in
sight, and the figures of demons shrouding around her.

She fluttered her eyes open and looked at
her uncle.

“Nay?” King Leroi smiled as he looked at her
shaking her head. “I imagine they would give you nightmares for
weeks to come.”

Cecelia was still shaking. It was not only
weeks. It was years.

“Monstrous creatures they are. Met one many
years ago. Killed ten of my soldiers on the spot, ripping them to
pieces.”

Cecelia paled and her stomach hollowed.

King Leroi smiled inwardly. “You are afraid
at the thought?”

Cecelia clamped her lips together in
response.

“Aye, you are not unfounded to be afraid of
them. I am a good king. You must appreciate that I am, and this
kingdom is protecting you from them.” He leaned forward, his small
eyes scrutinizing her. “Do you appreciate what I’ve done for you
and your family?”

Cecelia couldn’t look at him. Instead, she
stared at the polished marble floor of white and gold. She felt
quite numb.

“Do you?”

“Aye, I do,” she softly replied.

He smiled, his plump cheeks nearly covering
his small eyes as he did so. “Then you know it is for the best to
leave things be.”

She looked up at him then, her brown eyes
misting with tears. “You will not send the soldiers to the Demon
Kingdom?”

“Nay,” came the harsh reply.

Cecelia had to control her anger by fisting
her hands. Her knuckles began to turn white. She felt a sense of
defeat. All of her planning from the previous three nights had come
to naught. All her plausible explanations as to why this Pearl of
Life—a mysterious seed that grew within a giant clam in the Demon
Kingdom, which, according to rumors, had the power to cure her
mother from the Westwick poison—was to no avail.

“We will not talk of this in the future.
Perhaps it is God’s will that your mother would leave us soon,” he
said, looking heavenward and crossing himself.

Nay!
Cecelia cried in her heart.
’Tis not God’s will that Mother would die soon.

“You are dismissed.”

Cecelia curtsied, and turning on her heel,
she left the king’s private study.

In the long corridor, she was still feeling
defeated and angry when she met the two women she most wanted to
avoid. Even though she’d heard the clop-clops of their backless
mules, she couldn’t escape them as she did not know where an
alternative exit was except for the one shown to her by a footman.
That exit was at the end of the corridor, behind the two vile
women.

“Lady Cecelia Van Zandt, already back from
whispering your wicked thoughts to the king?” Rosanna sneered,
folding her arms across her generous bosom.

Cecelia looked at the blond-haired woman.
She was, as usual, exquisitely beautiful today, dressed in a silk
lavender
gown. Her silver-blond
tresses were styled into ringlets about her head, thus showing off
her slender, swan-like neck, which was adorned with a large ruby
and gold necklace of an intricate design.

“What did you say to him?” Juliet, the
younger sister, said, grabbing hold of Cecelia’s arm and nudging
her toward them.

Cecelia glanced at Juliet. She was also very
pretty today, dressed in a pastel silk gown and her honey-blond
hair styled into ringlets on her head.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Cecelia said,
shook her arm free, and moved aside to pass them.

Rosanna smoothly stepped in front of her,
stopping her escape. “Tell me or suffer the consequence,” the woman
said, her green eyes so sharp Cecelia thought if they were real
blades, her smooth cheek would be cut by now.

Though she was afraid, she stood her ground
and tilted her head a notch higher so her eyes met Rosanna’s.

“I said nothing that concerns you,” she
repeated without showing her fear.

“Insolence!” Rosanna snapped and slapped
Cecelia’s right cheek.

Cecelia took a deep breath as she fisted her
hands. Slowly, she turned to glare at the woman. She itched to
retaliate but knew she would only get into more trouble, for Queen
Eliza would soon hear of their fights and would, as always, punish
her.

“You will not talk of such to me again, do
you hear?” Rosanna hissed. “I am the queen’s cousin. I have all the
power, and you have none. It is as well that you know your place
here. You should thank the good king for taking you and your family
under his wing, for providing you and your family food and shelter
after the attack. You should thank the Lord you are still living
and breathing this day and not being ripped to pieces by those
demons.”

Cecelia squared her shoulders and said, “I
do thank God for his mercy every evening tide afore retiring to
bed, Lady Rosanna.”

“So what did you talk to the king about?”
Juliet asked, yanking at Cecelia’s sleeve.

Cecelia didn’t answer.

Rosanna frowned and her lips thinned into a
line. “Tell me now!” she said and yanked her again.

“The Pearl of Life,” Cecelia said.

Both women stared at her in disbelief.

“The Pearl of Life?” Rosanna repeated. “You
cannot think to ask the king to dispatch his soldiers to retrieve
it, can you?”

Cecelia didn’t answer. She made a move to
leave.

“Do you?” Rosanna snapped, grabbing
Cecelia’s arm and yanking her back.

“Aye,” Cecelia said and shifted her arm
free.

“But it is in the Demon Kingdom, somewhere
in the cave deep in the forbidden forest where the terrible
monsters live. ’Tis the demon king’s treasure. The creature won’t
allow you. The men will die.”

Cecelia ignored the women’s barks of outrage
and turned to go.

“You would let the brave soldiers die to
save your useless mother?” Rosanna said.

Cecelia twisted around and slapped Rosanna
on the cheek. She felt oddly satisfied. To hell with Queen Eliza,
she thought. If the news of this small fight reached the woman’s
ear and later she got the punishment, so be it.

Rosanna’s mouth hung open in disbelief.

“My mother is not useless,” Cecelia said in
a low, heated voice. “She is a great woman, a great lady. She is
Countess of Rosevalley, who loves her people.”

“And why is the great Rosevalley gone,
turned into ash overnight? Because your dear father was useless,
that’s why,” Rosanna snapped.

“It was the demons. It had nothing to do
with him,” Cecelia said angrily, tears brewing in her eyes.

“It’s because your father was weak. That was
why he couldn’t handle a few demons,” Rosanna said.

“It wasn’t just a few demons,” Cecelia
defended. Inside, she felt hopeless, and she knew no matter how
hard she tried to argue with them, she would still lose.

“How do you know it wasn’t just a few
demons?” Juliet asked.

“I know,” Cecelia said and knew they were
laughing at her acting like a child, defending her hero father,
Prince Peter Van Zandt, Earl of Rosevalley. In her heart, she knew
it wasn’t just a few demons. There was a whole army of them. She
had seen them herself. They had attacked at night, killing anyone
in sight. It was a miracle she, her mother, and her brother had
escaped at all.

She looked at Juliet, and without another
word, turned and walked as fast as she could from the corridor.

“Where are you going? Come back here. I’m
not finished with you,” Rosanna yelled.

Cecelia ignored her shout of outrage and
walked faster, her shoes clip-clopping against the polished
floor.

She exited the king’s wing and entered the
courtyard. Though the bright sun was shining, the birds were
singing, and the flowers were beautiful and blooming in all
different shades of the rainbow, she didn’t see them, and if she
did, she wouldn’t appreciate them.

She ran across the courtyard, passing the
exotic pond swimming with Koi and turtles, the great magnolia trees
blooming with white and pink blossoms, and the bushes of bright-red
roses that would have made her smile and entered the corridor of
the north wing.

This wing was assigned to her family three
years ago when they had arrived under the king’s aid after the
demons’ attack.

Cecelia was very glad that this north wing
was old and not very elegant as were the other three in the palace.
And furthermore, because the wing faced north, this meant it was
colder than the rest, which both the king and queen themselves, not
to mention Rosanna and Juliet, disliked immensely. Hence, they had
never come to visit. Not that they wanted to anyway. Queen Eliza
had never liked her mother, a fact Cecelia found most suitable to
her since her mother, and herself of course, had never liked her in
return.

Cecelia came to a grand foyer decorated with
a light rose-pink and royal-purple drapes over the long windows.
The grand stairs were made of white marble and the large walls were
hung with paintings of previous kings, queens, and lords of the
kingdom—her ancestors.

She climbed the stairs and then came across
the corridor. Turning to her right, she came to a huge door. She
stood there for a moment to calm her nerves. Once she was composed,
she walked into her mother’s bedchamber.

Closing the door behind her, she wiped her
tears clean. She didn’t want her mother to see her crying. The
woman already had enough trouble as it was.

“Mother?” she called into the large, elegant
room.

“Celia, my darling?” She heard her mother’s
hoarse voice and her heart nearly broke. She walked toward the
large four-poster bed in the center of the room.

Lady Margaret Van Zandt, Countess of
Rosevalley, was sitting between large pillows, and her fragile
figure only confirmed Cecelia’s suspicion that her mother was
getting weaker.

“Mother,” she said, taking a seat on the
side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Margaret said, trying to smile but
failing.

Cecelia knew it was painful to even lift
those once beautiful lips. Her mother tried for her sake, she
knew.

“I can hear the bees buzzing and the birds
singing,” her mother whispered. “So beautiful in spring, don’t you
think, darling?”

Cecelia agreed without much thought.

“The festival will be so lovely with
wildflowers everywhere.” Margaret reached out her frail hand to
touch her daughter’s.

“I won’t be joining,” Cecelia said as she
lifted her mother’s hand to her lips. She kissed it and then gently
moved it to touch her cheek.

“Why?” Margaret asked, watching her daughter
with interest.

“It will be no joy without you there.”

“Nonsense.” The countess frowned. “I want
you to go and enjoy the festival. Take your brother with you.
Perhaps this time, you will find a fine young man—”