Varma thought that the atmosphere in the castle was very important. Cleanliness, cheerfulness and passion had to reign everywhere. There were even places in the palace where everyone, whether king or maid, could fulfill their secret desires. All you had to do was send an invitation to the person you wanted to spend time with. Scarlet wicker roses like flames caressed the columns of the palace with their petals and exuded a pleasant, intoxicating odor, so that visitors often stopped at the entrance to the palace and looked for the beautiful flowers, but found them only inside the palace next to the luxurious, openly dressed maids.
Demons had their own way of having fun: some lured strangers into their fatal embrace, some fed off their emotions, and some simply killed. Whoever once set foot in their lands wanted to return there, to Flammehav, where life was carefree but sharp. Varma had a great deal of merit in this. No one could have imagined that one day, in a beautiful jeweled chest, the queen of a great kingdom would find the head of her faithful servant. But it happened, which drove the demoness into a frenzy.
– Lamar! – The heavy door leading to the throne room banged against the wall with a rumble: an enraged queen stood at the entrance. In her right hand she was clutching the hair of the ambassador's head, which was sticky with dried blood, and a grimace of bewilderment on her face. – How can this be understood! How dare he? – Her beautiful white face contorted in anger, and she threw the ugly head at the king's feet.
– I see you already know that the new king of humans makes friends in such a strange way. – The demon king rose from his throne and picked up the servant's head and began to twirl it in his hands, as if it were not disgusting and creepy, but an ordinary cannonball.
– Strange? He's out of his mind! – Varma exclaimed: her husband seemed to have just added more wood to the fire raging within her, and the demoness could barely restrain herself from wanting to kill one of the servants.
– It's ironic: I was sent the news of my brother's murder, and you – the head of a diplomat. – It was as if Lamar hadn't heard his wife's words. – This Derek Merkswerd is not a cowardly man. – Shrugging his shoulders, the supreme demon deliberately released the head from his hands, kicked it with the toe of his tall red boot, and laughed loudly.
The head bounced into the wall and fell deafeningly onto the soft red carpet.
– I don't see what's so funny! – Varma growled, but her face immediately contorted: "Daryal is dead? But how? – She frowned, but then said confidently: – It can't be. He's a supreme demon, and these people couldn't, wouldn't dare…
– They could and they did. – The grin fell from the king's face, and he collapsed on his throne like a sack full of bones. That was exactly how Lamar felt.
– But that's impossible… – Varma was still unable, unwilling to accept this terrible news.
– Perhaps," the king interrupted her in a grim tone.
– But what about magic? – The queen asked quietly.
– There was no magic. He did not use it – Lamar's voice was dark and cold.
– No… No! – Only now did the queen realize the meaning of her husband's words.
– Yes!" came the queen's harsh reply.
– We must…" the queen began, but her husband immediately stopped her attempt to interfere.
