Page 42 of Her Demon Daddy
“I said itmight.” Vag’thimon stands at full height, and his eyes pin me like a specimen to the elaborate tile floor. “How was I to know what my cousin had done? Were you not listening? If he had opened that portal of his own accord he would be sitting in my throne at this very moment.”
“Youknew.”
There’s no way a power-hungry demon like Vag’thimon would have put his own rule at risk. Not the way he struts about like he was made to be King. He must have suspected, at the very least, what Asmodeus had done.
And now I’ve confirmed it for him.
I might as well have killed Asmodeus with my own hands.
“You played your part well,” he says. “And I keep my word. For your assistance, you will live, remaining on Aerasak as my personal guest.”
The room blurs. Helpless, furious tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to stay anywhere near him, but before I can argue, he leaves.
The sobs I’ve been holding back since I first met with Asmodeus in the dungeons below burst forth, nearly bringing me to my knees. I fling myself onto the soft bed and let them overcome me until the light from the window grows dim.
With every hour, the trial draws nearer.
Does Asmodeus know these hours will be his last? What is he thinking, alone in that dungeon? He’ll know, when he hears testimony tomorrow, that his confession to me is what has sealed his fate.
All those words I blew about, upset that he hadn’t told me the truth. I wish I could swallow them whole. He was right not to tell me anything.
He’s going to die, and it’s all my fault.
How am I supposed to go on living without him?
24
ASMODEUS
The night after hearing Siara say she was falling in love with me was my life's longest, darkest night. Even with the dim flames of the torches in the dungeon, I can tell something evil and sinister has crept over me. I can’t help but wonder if Oltyx always knew this would be the outcome of me jumping through his portal.
If I don’t have Siara to fight for or have her beside me while I fight for myself, there’s no apparent reason for me to remain in this world. It’s sadly comical. I’m home for the first time in decades, back in the city that raised me. I remember thinking I would prove everyone wrong as a child, make something of myself, and become a household name for the whole country.
Unfortunately, I was correct, but not in the way I expected. I can only imagine the conversations in children’s schools, asking them to write reports on demonic law and justice for my crimes. Families will speak about my injustices over the dinner table. Vag’thimon will tell my story for the rest of his reign, probably happy that he was right about me all along.
It hurts the most knowing that while my name will be spoken for centuries and my name will be kept alive, it certainly won’t be from Siara’s mouth. I doubt she’ll ever want to relive this journey, and I don’t blame her. She shouldn’t want to relive it and never want to utter my despicable name again.
A part of me thinks I should have said something quicker before she left the dungeon last night. If I had said I loved her, screamed it from the top of my lungs, loud enough for everyone in the castle to hear, would she still be gone? Would I still be sure she’s never coming back? I know that was my last opportunity, and of course, I blew it. I let my pride and selfishness get in my way again. I’m my worst enemy, and part of me hopes I’m executed today, if for nothing else than for Siara to have justice and kill the part of me that’s always gotten in my way.
The dungeon door slams open, and my heart beats loud, like ceremonial drums summoning me to my beheading. I see out of my peripheral two trolvor approach my cell and unlock it. I don’t lock eyes with them nor stand to walk with them. I let them enter the cell and grab me by my arms. I’ve lost the will to try anything, even stand.
My eyes squint at the light coming from the castle door, my pupils adjusting to the bright light I’ve been deprived of for days. The trolvor walk me up a flight of steps and into the main castle. I look around, nausea hitting me as I remember the last time I was here. I had just received orders from Vag’thimon and was in the altar room making a prayer to Oltyx for protection, something I did before every battle. If I could go back in time, I would warn myself. I would tell myself not to open the portal, and somewhere out there, a woman named Siara is waiting for you. She’ll give you love as you’ve never known, and if you find her as yourself, you can avoid the worst pain of your life.
I’m led through the palace and into the large doors of the throne room. I hear a commotion from inside, some voices screaming, some cheering. Upon the trolvor opening them, I see hundreds of demons awaiting me. As I’m walked down the center of them, I glance at some of their furious faces. Some of them I recognize from Galmoleth. even Drar'ran and my other servants are in attendance, staring me down profusely to let me know they’ve received their sight back. Most of the room is filled with demons I’ve never seen before. Beings that should be brothers and sisters but have turned against me due to my foolishness.
Xaphan line the sides of the aisle, keeping the crowd from spearing me on the spot. I grimace at the thought of them in the main castle’s throne room. I can’t believe Vag’thimon allied with them once I was gone. My heart sinks as I realize I couldn't battle my way out of this even if I wanted to.
The Obsidian Throne awaits at the end of the aisle, taking up more than a quarter of the room. Vag’thimon lounges on the oversized throne with his head resting on his hand as he looks at me. He couldn’t be more bored, disgusted that he has to take time out of his day to decide his cousin’s fate.
The screams turn into low whispers as Vag’thimon motions for the court to quiet. I can barely hear what they’re saying, but I’m sure it’s nothing worse than what I’ve told myself in the dungeons. I stand before Vag’thimon in the empty space in front of his throne. Beside me, one of my most trusted advisors is escorted to the side of the room.
There’s a line of them, what I thought were my trusted servants and right-hands. Some from Galmoleth and others I worked beside closely in Ikoth. Less than half of them are in chains, which tells me that most came here willingly. The realization makes my gut turn. Even though the ones from Galmoleth were in a trance when I reigned over them, that doesn’t mean they won’t air on the side of justice.
I try to gaze into their eyes to make out their expressions. Of the ones that volunteered to come here, which stood by my side? After all the years of their luxurious lives in Galmoleth, which ones stood true and noble? I wish I could tell, but my heart is pumping too quickly, and my mind is racing too fast to read their faces accurately.
If I am executed, what will that mean for the ones who stayed true to me, if any? Will they follow me into the afterlife, leaving behind the families they’ve just reunited with, or will they be shown mercy? I guess it doesn’t matter, anyway. I won’t find out until I’m sent to the world beyond Ikoth.
I know Siara won’t be following in my shoes of death, thankfully. As the thought hits me, I look at Vag’thimon’s throne and am surprised she’s not there. I look over my right shoulder and see a cluster of disgusted demons. Over my left, I find her at the front of the crowd, standing next to a xaphan guard.