Raven's Soul. Volume 1
Шрифт:
The gift was given to the queen through foreign merchants: they often stopped by the palaces of high-ranking ladies, where they were well paid for goods and small services of other nature. Some passed secret letters to relatives and lovers, some asked for something special, and some paid for the satisfaction of their fantasies. For money, merchants were ready to tolerate anything, because sometimes the payment for one small favor could provide their families with everything they needed for a year.
– My queen, the merchants have arrived and wish to show off their wares and present you with a gift from King Kaldwind," Queen Varma was informed by her personal butler.
– Accepting gifts from defeated rulers is so tiresome! – Varma yawned, elegantly covering her beautiful mouth with a thin palm.
– You are right, Mistress. But this is a new king. The old one is dead, and his successor is certainly trying to please you," the butler said flatteringly.
– Of course, because no one wants a war with us. No one will ever have the courage and stupidity to threaten Flammehav! – The queen went to the window to look at the wagons of goods.
– If you wish, I will inform the merchants that you are not in the mood, Mistress.
– No need, let them show me what they've brought. And I wonder what the King of Men has decided to make me happy. – Varma looked around at the newcomers, sneered, and returned to the black leather couch.
– As you command. – The butler bowed and left the chambers.
Demoness, as it is supposed to royalty, was restrained and calm, only a slight grin gave away her true attitude to what was happening. From dresses and fabrics were already sagging shelves of her numerous closets, jewelry barely fit in the countless boxes. This demoness was eighty-seven years old, but she maintained her appearance with magic, making her look twenty-five years old. The queen was amused by the way the foreign merchants humiliated themselves in front of her, trying to find the right words and not to make unnecessary movements.
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.
– The war will begin soon. Go back to your chambers and don't you dare disturb me," the supreme demon ordered in a grim tone.
With a huff of anger, the offended Varma picked up the hem of her bright red dress and left.
An hour later, the demon king convened a council and issued an order declaring war. He was firmly convinced that humans, a weak race, would not be able to withstand the might of the Dusk Army, but he had no idea what trump cards humans were hiding and how it would turn out for Flammehav. And most importantly, what the Rossi dynasty would have to sacrifice to preserve the lands, and how in an instant the greatest race of all-powerful demons would turn to dust under the feet of the human king Derek Merkswerd.