She staggered toward the throne where Derek Merkswerd sat, the light scarlet dress swaying to the beat of her steps. The girl's wavy black, raven-winged hair was braided into a high, elaborate style and adorned with modestly sized blood-red sapphires that emphasized her large red eyes framed by long, black, thick lashes. Sylvia walked slowly, with a perfectly straight back and raised chin, showing that her pride had not left her despite the fact that she had heard nothing but mockery and insults from her future husband.
"They don't call that girl 'the main jewel of Flammehav for nothing,'" said Derek, who was already quite tipsy but still sober. He watched the princess's every move and rightly noted her true aristocratism, which, however, was absent in her parents. But the knowledge that Sylvia Rossi's own uncle had murdered the woman he loved, the mother of his children, made Derek cringe slightly at the thought of a relative of that accursed murderer becoming the rightful queen of Kaldwind, and, even more disgusting, his consort before God.
"Proud little thing, I'll put you in your place!" – thought the king of men with a wry grin, but decided not to humiliate Sylvia so openly in front of his soldiers, because she was right: by insulting her, he was insulting his own choice. Yes, he did not want to marry her, a demoness who must have already known many men. After all, that's what the demon king's palace was famous for, sculptures of debauchery: its orgies. And this girl Sylvia could pretend to be anything she wanted to be, whether it was a defiled innocent or a proud maiden who knew her worth, but Derek knew she was nothing more than a slutty voluptuary.
Derek, dressed in a modest black outfit over which he wore his armor, looked like a peasant: his shoulder-length dark hair was unwashed, his shirt was torn in places, his boots were untidy and muddy.
"He didn't even deign to wash the blood from his face and hands! King! – Sylvia thought contemptuously as she approached him. – And, mother of fire demons, he stinks like the last stable boy! From the battlefield to the feast! Am I to share a marriage bed with him?"
The way his bride wrinkled her pretty nose did not escape Derek's gaze, but he only grinned and leaned back on the high back of the carved throne and ordered more wine to be brought to him. He didn't care what this demoness thought of him or her feelings or desires. She was only a hostage, his prisoner, but he dared not take her life, knowing how precious this lecheress was: she would bring his people a guarantee of peace and protection from Lamar's wrath when the power of the White Talisman died with Andrada. Sylvia Rossi, without realizing it herself, was untouchable and needed by the one who had destroyed her home, killed her people, and was now forcing her into marriage.
Since the warriors who had witnessed the conversation between their king and the Rossi family that a marriage would be arranged between him and the demon princess had already tried to tell others, by now the entire Kaldwind army knew that Derek Merkswerd would take the daughter of the enemy as his wife and make her his queen. Some were angry, some were amazed, but most saw it as a boundless humiliation to the mighty Rossi dynasty and were overjoyed at the king's unexpected decision. No one but Derek and Bergil were aware of the Talisman and the threat that might loom over their homelands, but no warrior, not even the most angry, dared to discuss their ruler's decision.
