Split of the Worlds (18+)

Chapter 11.3

As much as she would have liked to accuse him of thinking only of his own advantage, of trying to scare her into submitting to his wishes, what he said made sense.

"The fact that you've bound yourself to me protects you, to a certain extent, from the influence of other higher demons. As long as I can hold my own against them."

If she weakened his position, she weakened her own protection.

"I'll try to keep that adjutant busy. And you know how charming I am." The demonlord smiled crookedly, but there was no amusement in it. "But you must do your part to support me. Wait." He raised a hand as Veidja could no longer quite suppress her revulsion. A low growl had risen in her throat. "I ask for nothing more than a truce between us as long as she is near you."

And then? The price will go up, won't it? At first, just my keeping quiet so I don't jeopardize my "safety." What comes next? She didn't want to even speculate. And she refused to give in to him.

"Please, at least think about it."

How did this demon manage to sound so defeated? Although Veidja knew it had to be a facade, his tone stirred something within her. Was it possible that genuine concern for her was truly driving his actions? Concern for his power, his reputation, yes, even his property, certainly. Nothing else could be attributed to a demon. That he revealed something like a weakness could only be a trick, a tactic.

Right?

The demonlord straightened up. Without another word, N'Arahn opened the door behind her with a wave and turned back to the table. She was dismissed. On the way back to her chamber, she was escorted by a captain, allowing Veidja to lose herself in her thoughts.

Something made her doubt the only reasonable explanation for N'Arahn's request. A gut feeling telling her that she should listen to the demonlord on this matter. That it would indeed be better to grant his request, no matter what ulterior motives he might have.

Veidja had a bitter taste in her mouth.

Well, perhaps she would simply wait and see what tomorrow's event brought.

- - - - -

He had almost expected his angel to refuse to put on the clothes he had had made and brought for her for today's occasion. But when she entered the throne room, flanked by Gorf, who had come to bring her, she looked exactly as he had imagined.

The warrior's white-blonde hair and the light bronze tone of her skin stood out in stark contrast against the black tunic. The faint glow that always surrounded her only intensified the effect. The stand-up collar looked good on her, and a black belt accentuated her waist. The buttons were red, just like the cuffs of the tunic sleeves. She wore matching deep-red pants that fell loosely but were kept narrow at the calves by black combat boots.

My colors suit you well. N'Arahn suppressed the smile that attempted to take hold of his features.

She sought his gaze, and he nodded to her. When he motioned for her to go into the adjoining room, whose door stood open, the expression on her face darkened, but she complied with his request.

He let her go ahead, gave a few final instructions to Darr, then followed the angel. She was tense; the demonlord could sense it. Veidja didn't show it, but ever since she had bound herself to him, he could sometimes perceive her moods more clearly.

He, too, did not like the fact that this adjutant had been forced upon him. Of course, one could view it as an honor. Many demonlords sought to keep several adjutants in their fortresses at the same time. They were powerful and skilled servants who could bring many advantages to creative demonlords. If one could subdue them. For naturally, every higher demon sought to attain the rank of a demonlord, as this came with the most resources and the most power in the Red Depths. And a position only became vacant when a demonlord died, so every adjutant was also a potential threat. Most demonlords were eventually killed by one of their servants.