– I may kneel before you, wretched man, but I swear you will pay for it! – Varma whispered hatefully, making Derek smile mockingly.
– Well, I'm satisfied. So be it, I will spare your lives, for I am so honorable," Derek said to the demons with contempt in his voice, and his men laughed again. He touched the tip of his sword blade to Sylvia Rossi's chin, making her raise her head and look at him. – And this must be your precious daughter, called Scarlet Flower," he added. – Truth be told, I don't see why she is given such honors: any girl in my kingdom is far more beautiful than your red-eyed daughter, Lamar. Do you agree with me, young maiden? – He asked Sylvia.
She dared not cross him. Her life, the lives of her parents and the entire nation hung in the balance. So she swallowed the insult silently and replied quietly:
– You are right, King. I am not worthy of the little finger of any girl of your great kingdom.
These words made Derek chuckle.
– I'm glad you agree with me," he said coldly and pulled his sword away from her throat. – Do you want peace, Lamar? Well, I'll give it to you! But you will pay a dear price for it.
– I'll give you anything you ask," the demon king told him quietly. – Just tell me what. Any jewelry, any land… Anything you want.
– Fine. – Derek grinned crookedly. – Then I'll take your main jewel from you. – He touched the sword to Sylvia's neck again. – Her.
– No, ask anything you want, but not my daughter! – Lamar exclaimed in horror.
– You don't seem to want peace as much as you claim," Derek grinned coldly.
The cold sword blade, covered with demon blood, was still touching the white neck of Princess Sylvia Rossi, but she was calm and only slightly frowned her beautiful forehead: why did this man want her? What does he desire of her?
The girl was lost in speculation, but carefully glanced at the face of the conqueror: he was handsome, nothing to say, but in his features felt the coldness that penetrated her to the bone. As far as Sylvia could tell, seeing this man, fully clad in heavy light armor, splattered with the scarlet blood of the enemies he had brutally killed, Derek Merkswerd had a tall, masculine figure, an aristocratic face, dark, slightly wavy hair down to his shoulders, and a small, well-groomed dark beard that distinguished humans from demons, who had not a hint of vegetation on their faces. But what struck the young princess were the man's eyes: gray, they glittered with steel and hatred. Hatred for her and her people. And she knew that he had a right to that hatred, and yet she despised him and hated him as much as he hated her.
And what does this cruel king of men wish to do to her? Burn her in the main square of his capital like a witch? Give her to the hungry dogs, to the delight of the mob? Put her in an iron box and submerge it in water until she confesses to sleeping with the Devil, only to be burned for having intercourse with the ruler of darkness? Isn't that what King Juris, Derek Merkswerd's predecessor, did?
– What will you do to our daughter, you vile man? – Varma squinted her eyes. – You are not worthy to even look at her!
– What will I do to her, my dear, over-long-tongued Queen of Flammehav? – Derek's eyes glittered with mockery: without realizing it, Varma was depriving this all-powerful conqueror of the desire to make peace with her husband with every word she said, the demoness was too proud. – I will do whatever I want to her: I will torture her, hang her by her feet in front of the palace, undress her and make her walk through the crowd of onlookers. That is exactly what I will do if you don't shut your mouth right now.
