Читать книгу Raven's Soul. Volume 1 - Анна Морион - Страница 7

"Rude ignorant dork! – thought Sylvia, treading slowly across the cold, stone, reddish floor towards the one who had left her no choice but to give him herself, her body and her honor. After all, he was the victor. A conqueror. Her magic had no effect on him, and she had no way to penetrate his thoughts, his soul, but his behavior and attitude toward her and her parents spoke for themselves: he was a scoundrel, a tyrant, an ignoramus. – And this miserable creature, this proud man will soon be my husband? Consort… What a strange word! I am the heiress of Flammehav, a demoness, and this cruel usurper! He'll make me queen of his kingdom, but I don't want that! I want nothing to do with him! But do I have a choice? Alas, not even my father, the mighty Lamar Rossi can protect me!"

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.

Trying to remain calm and look cold and proud, Sylvia took a seat next to her fiancé and, squinting her eyes, slowly looked around the huge space of the throne room, filled with dirty, foul-smelling and rather drunken warriors. The girl felt like a graceful lion surrounded by hungry rabid dogs, but the thought of sitting on her mother's throne kept her spirits up. Her mother… Where is she?

– Why aren't my parents here? – She asked Derek coldly and gestured away from the goblet of wine offered to her by the groom's servant.

– Your parents were invited. But your mother doesn't seem to want to show herself in front of my handsome men in her new guise," Derek replied with a sneer of irony in his voice. – But, my dear bride, do not refuse the wine and drink to our soon sacred union. – At these words he couldn't help the mockery in his voice.

But there was not only mockery in Derek's voice, but order, so Sylvia silently beckoned to him to bring her the goblet, and when the vessel of wine was in her hands, she raised it, and looking contemptuously into the eyes of the bridegroom, said in a loud voice:

– Let us drink to Derek Merkswerd, murderer of women and children! A destroyer and, I hear, a usurper!

But if she wished to hurt the honor of her enemy and make him look like a monster before her own army, she was sorely disappointed. From all sides came the cry, "Usurper, indeed! Foolish goose!" "For Derek! To our king!" "Be thankful, woman, that our king let you and your father and mother live! He should not have!"

– A murderer of women and children! That's funny! – Derek laughed and took a sip of wine. – The murderer of women and children was your own uncle.....

– Lies!" Sylvia breathed out in frustration.

– He killed twenty-nine girls of my kingdom. Six of them were under fifteen years old. All of them were found raped and torn, in pools of blood," her fiancé continued mercilessly. His face was as if carved in stone.

– I know my uncle! He wasn't a monster! My uncle loved and spoiled me, and he did not- – The girl began to defend the memory of her father's brother, but Derek knocked the wine goblet out of her hand with a sharp movement, and the scarlet liquor flooded her lap and soaked into the fabric of her dress.

The golden goblet made contact with the floor with a loud clinking sound and was stopped by the muddy boot of one of the soldiers after rolling halfway down the hall.

The noise in the hall was replaced by loud whispers: what was happening between the king and his demoness bride intrigued the tipsy soldiers. Someone quietly laughed at the "foolish fool" and said that "the king will definitely show her where her womanizing place is!".

– One more word about your murderer and rapist uncle's nobility, and I swear I'll behead your parents right here in front of your eyes," Derek said darkly, his gray eyes fixed on Sylvia's white face, making her feel a real animal fear.

For this man was a monster. He killed King Juris, took his power, and deprived the rightful heir, Hedda Juris, of her crown. And the poor girl was so intimidated by him that she accepted her fate unconditionally. All the kingdoms of Vakkerland knew about it, but no one dared to resent such treachery. Besides, no one cared about what was happening in Kaldwind, the land of the weak creatures. The lands of men. Neither mages nor angels came to the aid of the rightful heiress, but simply turned a blind eye to it, as did the demons. And the Rossi family didn't care who was the king of Kaldwind, didn't care who they traded with… Until now. Now Sylvia Rossi only regretted that her father had not foreseen that Flammehav would be destroyed by this usurper. She regretted that at one time her father had only laughed at the news that the King of Men, Juris, had been killed by his own knight, who had immediately proclaimed himself ruler of Kaldwind. And now this impostor, this brazen murderer sat on her father's throne and dared to cover the name of her beloved uncle Daryal with filthy lies, for Sylvia knew that her father's brother was honorable and had a sensitive heart. Yes, lately, before he had been cruelly and lawlessly executed by Derek Merkswerd, he had been silent and gloomy, and then he had disappeared from the palace, and the only news of him Rossi had received was from the Chancellor, who in turn had learned of Daryal's death from a Caldwinian merchant.

A hundred curses were on Sylvia's tongue, but she swallowed them silently, remembering that Derek was omnipotent at the moment and could easily do what he had just threatened to do. Outraged and angry, she breathed heavily, her white face flushed and her hands frantically clutching the wine-wet hem of her dress.

– That's better," the usurper said quietly and gave the demoness a scornful look.

– If you will allow me, my king…" The words were so repulsive to Sylvia that she barely managed to force them out of her throat. – My dress is soaked, and I wish I could change my attire.

Satisfied with her voluntary humiliation, Derek silently made a careless gesture with his hand, allowing his bride to leave the throne room, and she rose from her mother's throne without delay and gracefully, with her head held high, headed for her chambers, but halfway there she stopped abruptly and turned back.

– Your Majesty, let me see my mother… I will try to persuade her to join me in celebrating our engagement," she asked loudly, glancing at her fiancé.

He smirked.

– I'm not a despot, my dear bride," Derek replied in a calm tone that didn't fit his mocking smirk. – You may see your mother.

– Thank you, my king. – Sylvia curtsied and left the hall, accompanied by two warriors.

When she reached the wide carved doors of her chambers, the princess turned to her attendants, who looked more like jailers, and said coldly:

– I will go on alone from here.

– We are ordered to follow you," one of the soldiers muttered in reply.

– You have my word, brave warriors, that I'll be out soon. And if you are afraid that I will escape from my chambers through the window, you are mistaken: we are on the thirteenth floor, and I have no wings behind me. – Sylvia went into her chambers and slammed the doors in front of her fiancé's pesky warriors.

Left alone, the girl walked quickly to the bed, sat on the edge, and dropped her head on her hands in despair. Never in her life had she, the proud Princess of Flammehav, known humiliation, but the usurper Merkswerd had been insulting her all this sad and hateful day. Her fiancé! Her future husband! And, if he allows himself to shower her so openly with abuse here in Blutok, what awaits her where he is considered a ruler, albeit an illegitimate one?

"Fiery ancestors, give me strength… I hate this man and everything associated with him! And it is I who am destined to be his consort! I am sure: one wrong step and he will take my life, burn me at the stake like a witch… He wants my submission, and he will get it! It's the only way I can stay alive…" she thought, and a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. But the girl immediately wiped it away with the palm of her hand. – But I swear by the love of my mother: he will not break me! Let him humiliate me, beat me, rape me! I will endure all this for the sake of peace… But, how I wish that he would soon die or be killed! I, the supreme demoness, daughter of the almighty Lamar Rossi, am afraid… Afraid of this man!"

To avoid falling even further into a maelstrom of despair, Sylvia rose to her feet and, going to the closet and opening it, selected and put on a long black corseted dress with a high neck, decorated with scarlet jewels, but with a rather prominent neckline, and in her ears she put large beautiful earrings with blood-red sapphires. She was beautiful, but she knew that her fiancé would reject and despise her, but she had no opportunity to wear something more modest, nor did she want to: let Derek Merkswerd see that she had not yet lost herself completely.

Looking into the large silver mirror on the wall, the princess smiled sadly.

"I need to keep in mind that first and foremost I am not the King's daughter, not a bride, not a wife, but a diplomat. And diplomacy has always been my forte" she decided and left her chambers. But Sylvia did not hurry back to her fiancé, but knocked on the closed door of her mother's chambers, who immediately responded with a harsh scolding.

– Mother, it's me, Sylvia," she said, and the door immediately opened.

– Come in, my love. I'm sorry, I thought it was one of the humans," Varma told her hastily.

Sylvia stepped into her mother's chambers. The door slammed shut behind her.

– Look what that bastard has done to me! – Varma moaned, clutching her head.

– Oh, Mother, I'm so sorry…" Sylvia could only whisper, for the decrepit old woman standing before her did not resemble her beautiful, always young mother in the slightest. She had seen only a glimpse of Varma in her chambers when Derek Merkswerd had ordered her to be his wife, and now the change that had come over the demon queen surprised her unpleasantly.

"So this is what my mother hides beneath her magical sheath! Her old age! No, I will not be like her… I will meet my old age with dignity and will not hide from it" – involuntarily went through the girl's mind, but she did not want to upset her mother with the truth, so she said:

– Mother, no one will ever take away your beauty....

But Varma immediately interrupted her:

– It's already happened! That damned little man… Damn him! But how? Does he possess some magic even stronger than ours? Impossible! Humans have never had even a hint of magical ability! – The queen walked briskly to her huge half-wall mirror and dug her fingers into her long gray hair. – Oh, my beauty! My youth! I hate this reflection, it's not me!

While Varma felt sorry for herself and cursed Derek, Sylvia waited silently for her mother to come to her senses.

– And you.... So young, so beautiful… What I was years ago! – with envy of her own daughter, Varma suddenly said quietly, glancing at the latter's reflection.

– 'The people have gathered in the throne room,' Sylvia hastened to say: at this moment her mother was pushing her away with her behavior and her vain wailing. – Derek Merkswerd has ordered me to come there to celebrate my engagement to him… Mother, please come with me! I need you! – she pleaded softly.

– No, no… In such a state… And what is there to celebrate? Our shame? – Varma cut her off.

The girl smiled bitterly, but did not ask twice, for she knew that her mother, as if disturbed by the loss of her beautiful false shell, would never leave her chambers.

– Tell me, mother, is it true that Uncle Dariel killed and raped the women of Kaldwind and was executed by King Derek for it? – She asked the question that had been tormenting her.

The demon queen smirked, went to the dressing table, sat down on a beautiful thin chair and began to open boxes with cosmetics and jewelry: she wanted to somehow cure old age in her own eyes.

– And who told you that, my daughter? – she said in an indifferent tone to Sylvia.

She walked over to the queen and stood behind her.

– Derek told me.

– And you believed him?

– No, not at all. But I need to know. – Sylvia swallowed. – 'I beg you, tell me the truth.

– The truth? – Varma took off her earrings. – Yes, he'd had a lot of fun before he died. But that despicable man still had no right to…

– How? Uncle Dariel was a murderer? Raped women? – Sylvia was stunned by this news. – But he was so honorable!

– Dariel? Noble? – Her mother laughed. She had already taken off her earrings and was putting new ones with large black stones in her pointed earlobes. – There's a lot you don't know, my naive girl! He was never satisfied with being a prince, and he waited patiently for your father to pass away.

– But he loved me so much," she whispered, remembering how she and Daryal had played hide-and-seek in the great long corridors of the palace, and how he had taught her to ride. And how patient he had been!

– It's true. You were his favorite. – The queen took out a scarlet lipstick from a box and began to paint her dry, senile lips with it. – But he thought that when Lamar died, he would steal your power and lock me in a dungeon or simply slit my throat. Darius thought no one could read his thoughts, but I did. You know my gift for reading minds is greater than that of any other demon. It took me eighteen years to get inside his head, but when I finally did, I was terrified. I told your father, and he ordered Daryal's arrest, but his little brother simply slipped out of the palace, never to be seen again. And then came the news from Kaldwind– But I'm not surprised. Darius has always had a taste for violent fun.

– Then King Derek was right…" Sylvia pressed her palm to her lips and shook her head.

– No, he wasn't! – Varma exclaimed angrily. – He should have sent Dariel to us, not lynch us! Who was he to decide the fate of Prince Flammehav?

– No, Mother, he had every right to execute the murderer," the girl said firmly.

– You seem to have forgotten who you are, taking the side of your pathetic fiancé? – Her mother squinted her eyes. – Have you forgotten the suffering he has brought to your people? How many demons he killed and how many cities he destroyed?

– I have not forgotten, and I will never forget! – Sylvia whispered loudly.

Silence hung, as Varma began to brush her gray hair and her daughter was taken captive by her thoughts.

The truth that her favorite uncle was going to overthrow her, the rightful heir, hurt Sylvia almost physically, but she chose not to think about it, for he was dead, and she would be Queen of Men… And consort to the cruel husband of Derek Merkswerd. Someone she hated with all her heart.

– You say they're celebrating? – The Queen suddenly broke the silence, turning to her daughter. – They must have emptied our wine cellars by now?

– The wine is flowing, Mother," she replied.

– We should have put poison in it," Varma smiled wryly. – In every bottle, so that every last one of those things would die!

– Will you come with me to the throne room? – Sylvia asked again, not wanting to listen to her mother's poisonous speeches any longer.

– No.

– Whatever you say, Mother. – The princess made a deep curtsy and silently left the room.

Sylvia reluctantly returned to her fiancé, and the celebration continued into the night. Neither Varma nor Lamar showed up to support their daughter. Thankfully, Derek didn't throw her any more taunts, but neither did he allow his bride to leave for her chambers. It was only when Sylvia, exhausted and tired, was almost asleep on her throne that Derek graciously summoned two warriors and ordered them to take his bride to rest.

– Get a couple hours of sleep, my princess," he told her. He was already drunk, but he did not let the guilt cloud his judgment. – We have a long journey tomorrow.

– Thank you, my king. May I take my maids to Kaldwind? – The girl asked.

– No," Derek said.

– At least two.

– Not one. And all your vulgar dresses will stay here. I don't want a wife who dresses like a whore.

– Whatever you say, my king. – Sylvia curtsied and hurried out of the grand drinking party.

When she entered her chambers and collapsed on her bed, she clenched her eyelids tightly so as not to cry from helplessness, but suddenly her fingers fumbled for some parchment under her pillow, and, holding it up to the reddish light of the lamp, she read:

"Find the element that suppresses our power and destroy it. And when you do, kill everyone who gets in your way and return home.

We love you.

Burn this message.

Father and mother."

Sylvia dipped the parchment into the red flame and it burned, leaving behind only an unpleasant smoke.

The night passed sleeplessly. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the wall, unable to believe that what had happened had not been a dream… And how she wished she could wake up and know that the war with Kaldwind, Derek Merkswerd, what had happened to her parents and herself, had been nothing more than a nightmare.

In the morning, when it was still dark outside the window, Bergil entered the princess's chamber. He silently placed a golden tray of food and drink on the table.

Having completed the task assigned to him, Bergil went to the door.

– We leave at dawn! – He suddenly shouted and slammed the door loudly behind him.

Chapter 7

"Well, it wasn't a very pleasant morning," Sylvia's sleepy mind flashed. Despite her thoughts, she managed to fall asleep, but an uninvited visit from the bearded man jerked her out of her slumber. – I would have slept another hour. Or better two. I wonder if I'm going to have strange men barging into my chambers every day from now on. He didn't even knock! Barbarian!"

The princess was filled with indignation and did not notice how she found herself near the wooden closet. She remembered her hated fiancé's words about not being allowed to take her favorite dresses and shoes to Kaldwind, but this time she didn't want to put up with such a stupid and insulting order, so she coldly gathered her clothes, shoes and jewelry into the large chests. When the job was done, Sylvia looked thoughtfully at the few dresses that didn't fit into the trunks and were left hanging in the closet: which one would be suitable for a long trip and not look so flashy? Yesterday Derek Merkswerd had made it clear that her dresses were similar in his eyes to those of courtesans. She had been annoyed by this fact, and in another situation she would have spoken out, but now Sylvia had to keep her mouth shut, because the demons closest to her were still in danger. But she was not going to be silent about this morning's intrusion: that hairy-rock Bergil had hurt her pride too much.

Putting on a dark blue dress with long sleeves and a relatively closed neckline, the Flammehav heiress twirled a little more in front of the mirror in an attempt to step so that the slit of the dress, rising to the white thigh, would be invisible, but her efforts were in vain. Sighing convulsively, Sylvia clenched her small fists and, assuming a casual look, looked out into the hallway to call the guards to carry her trunks downstairs, but met only derision. Trying to remain calm, the girl began to drag her heavy, overstuffed trunks toward the stairs on her own. The dirty, foul-smelling human warriors smiled derisively, watching her with interest, but the princess remained proud and dragged her trunks onward. Finally reaching the wide black stone staircase, the tired black-haired beauty collapsed right on the chests and, spreading her arms to the sides, called out loudly to her surroundings:

– Do none of you see that your future queen needs help?

– Of course, Your Majesty! You're so tired of carrying all this junk! – Bergil, who had suddenly appeared beside her, said with a sneer in his voice. – Though I dare ask… Has not my king made it clear to you that he does not wish to see these rags? Or are you trying your luck, future queen? – The grin on his face was more like a grin.

– I don't think I asked for your opinion. You're very wrong if you think I can't wear what I like. Those dresses…" Sylvia cut her off icily, but the sound of approaching footsteps behind her silenced her.

– Yes, you can't! – When she turned around, she saw Derek, and from his face she realized that he was clearly unhappy with her behavior.

– Perhaps you have forgotten, Your Majesty, that I am not a servant, but a princess, heir to the throne and your fiancée! And this scoundrel does not dare to mock me! – Sylvia flared up and pointed her finger at Bergil like a child.

The king's face turned crimson. In an instant he was seized with a real rage: his best friend and his demoness fiancée had put him in an awkward position, and his answer would determine how he would be treated by his warriors and his people.

"Couldn't that bear Bergil hold back? He would have laughed at her when no one could see! No, he should have done it in front of everyone! Will that brat of hell ever shut up? Her reminders that I'll have to marry her are getting in my throat!" – he thought.

The king remained silent and shifted his contemptuous gaze from Sylvia to Bergil and back again. There were already enough curious onlookers around them to anticipate that their lord would deal with the arrogance and insolence of this red-eyed demoness in a harsh and dignified manner.

– Remember forever, Sylvia: you have no right to behave like a capricious princess, because you still bear your title only because of my mercy. As for you, Bergil, aren't you the one who should be enforcing discipline? You've both disappointed me. Terribly disappointed. – The ice in Derek's voice made both the demoness and the head of the guard grow cold.

– I beg you, Your Majesty, let me take at least one chest with my belongings and at least one of my maids," she asked quietly but insistently, but Derek didn't seem to hear her:

– It's time to go: it's a long way home! – he announced loudly to his warriors. – King Lamar has provided us with a royal carriage and twenty of Flammehav's best horses. In addition, numerous wagons with provisions, water and wine are traveling with us! Well, anything else you wish to take away with you: jewelry, fabrics, and who knows what else, you will have to carry on your own, as the newly acquired horses already have one important task!

"Excellent! I'm sure he'll make me shake on the horse's back the whole way! – Sylvia thought wryly as she listened to her fiancé's speeches, and only now noticed that the once glittering walls of the palace were disfigured by deep holes, and all the gold threads decorating them had disappeared. – Looters! How greedy are these monsters that they would not squander even so little!"

But she did not know that all of her parents' jewelry had also been looted and, hidden in dirty black pouches attached to the belts of dozens of human thieves, were ready to go to a foreign land. Sylvia's jewelry was unharmed only by the will of Derek, who had forbidden even to touch it.

– Soldiers of Kaldwind! Are you ready to march? To go home? – Derek asked loudly.

– Ready! Home at last! Oh, we'll get rich! – That was his answer.

– Then let's go! – Derek shouted triumphantly.

– Hooray! Home! – With joyous shouts, the warriors, homesick for their families and homes, streamed toward the stairs. Armor clinked, swords rattled, and men laughed loudly.

Satisfied with the general joy, the king of men grinned and, coming even closer to Sylvia and Bergil, said quietly:

– Bergil, see to discipline. I don't want the army to suddenly become chaotic.

– As you say, Your Majesty. – Bergil bowed to the king and left: he realized that the king was angry at his prank, and decided to silently retreat.

– And you, Sylvia, will ride in the carriage…" Derek turned to his bride.

– I'm glad you haven't forgotten about honor… – the flattered demoness began.

– In a carriage for my servants, – the king finished his thought.

– But… – The princess tried to object, but was stopped by a quick wave of her hand

– One more word and you will walk to Kaldwind. – Derek unceremoniously grabbed Sylvia's arm and led her down the stairs. – Didn't you have a more modest dress in your rag-stuffed closet?

– Please, let me say goodbye to my parents! – the princess begged.

– You have had plenty of time," her fiancé replied sternly.

Derek immediately let go of the girl's hand as if it was burning his skin.

– What's that… There on the wagons? – Sylvia frowned when she saw the king's horses drawn in wagons loaded with rather large chests.

– This is your dowry," the groom announced with a wry grin. – And your father's payment for peace. Now get into the carriage! – He walked to the huge, luxurious carriage that belonged to Sylvia's father and climbed in, remembering to slam the door loudly.

One of the maids, who had come with the king from Kaldwind, timidly put her arm around Sylvia's shoulders and hurriedly led her towards the sturdily-built, but rather uncomfortable carriage for the servants who always followed their lord on his military campaigns. The princess took a seat by the window and turned her back to the glass so that people would not see her tears. Sylvia wanted to weep with bitterness: this cruel usurper wouldn't even let her say goodbye to her parents! After all, it wouldn't have taken long! She was ready to bear all the trials and humiliations, even traveling in the same carriage with her fiancé's servants, but not this… And hatred for her fiancé took hold of her heart even more.

Bergil jumped up on his horse and jerked the reins angrily. The horse galloped obediently to the end of the line.

The whole ride to Kaldwind was silent for Sylvia. But the army, returning home from war and with victory in their hands, jingled their armor and talked loudly, sharing with their friends what they would do with the King's reward and the loot from Flammehav. Derek sat alone in the comfortable carriage, studying the papers he had accumulated during the campaign and trying not to think about the conflict. Usually the king led his army on horseback, but this time the urgency and importance of the papers did not allow him to put on his armor again and be like everyone else. Also Derek did not want to scandalize his fiancée and especially not to offend his friend. Everyone in Kaldwind's army and palace had long been accustomed to Bergil's special status, and he was allowed more than the others, and here he was being punished because of some red-eyed girl! Derek hated demons as much as Bergil did, so he understood his anger and desire to humiliate Sylvia, but now the demoness was on her way to his kingdom as his future wife, and he didn't want her to be humiliated by anyone. She was, after all, his future queen. The mother of his heir. Bergil could mock her in private all he wanted, but he had to keep his mouth shut in front of witnesses. Be that as it may, Sylvia was the king's choice, and no one in Kaldwind, not even Bergil, dared challenge that choice.

For the night, the army would make a huge camp wherever darkness overtook them. A large royal tent was set up for Derek, but there was no room for his bride. Sylvia, the future queen of Kaldwind, slept in the same tent with the servants, but not a word of complaint came out of her mouth. Besides, she realized that Derek Merkswerd would hardly be interested in her complaints. During the daytime, the princess huddled in a corner of the carriage and, looking sadly at the ruins of cities and dead trees killed by fire, thought about what awaited her in a foreign kingdom. The girl had never been naive, so she knew that every inhabitant of Kaldwind was ready to tear her to pieces, to pelt her with stones and rotten vegetables, every one of them longed for her execution, every one of them wanted to be her executioner. She was the demon everyone hated. And just how would Derek get his people to accept his choice?

"Ah, yes," Sylvia recalled with a sneer. – After all, he is a usurper, and is feared like the devil himself!"

All along the way Sylvia had been humiliated and ridiculed many times, and yet before the war and the fall of her kingdom she had met with only raptures for her intelligence and delicacy. How many of Flammehav's inhabitants had fallen at the hands of men, how many times she had cringed, how many tears she had shed, but it seemed that these barbarians were not enough. They took away her home, her parents and forced her to agree to marry a usurper, a savage and a libertine, is that not enough? How much agony lies ahead of her? Will she be able to overcome all the difficulties and hardships? If only her parents were near and could give advice and support, but alas, Varma cared only about her appearance, and Lamar was grief-stricken, humiliated and, at the departure of his daughter to a foreign land, did not even come out of his chambers to say goodbye. Sylvia was left all alone, and she would have to solve problems on her own. That was the conclusion she had drawn when she left Røvann.

When the army finally left the devastated lands of Flammehav, Sylvia looked out the window with interest to see the nature and architecture of the kingdom she would soon rule, and the contrast of the calm colors, the modest stone houses, the clouds of diverse livestock grazing on the peasant lands, the friendly faces of the people shouting with joy as they welcomed home the victors, struck her. How different Kaldwind and its culture was from the one in which she had grown up! From birth, Sylvia had been surrounded by licentiousness, lust, and vulgarity, and she had to admit it to herself. Yes, she had never found interest and amusement in the endless love affairs so common in her father's palace. She had never had an affair with any demon or lain down with any man. And yet the girl was unwittingly beginning to understand why humans despised demons so much.