Ruling the World With My Rebellious Demon Girls

Chapter 8

Marcus had said they would eat in town, so they left the ruins and left Selene and Dren lying where they had fallen.

Vyrella walked three steps behind him. She told herself she was only following to see what he was planning. It had nothing to do with the fact that, for the first time in two years, someone was actually going to feed her.

She had put a sword through this man’s shoulder that morning.

And now he was walking ahead of her, with his back turned, like it didn’t even matter.

Idiot, she thought, If I wanted him dead, he would be dead.

Halfway down the road, her wrist started to burn.

She glanced down. The black mark beneath the cracked chain, the one that had barely been visible before, was crawling up her arm like ink spreading in water.

No. Not now, she panicked.

Marcus looked back at that exact moment. She tried to hide her hand, but he grabbed her wrist before she could.

“What is this?”

“Nothing.” She jerked her hand away. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Your arm is turning black, and you’re fine?”

“I said—” She stopped.

Heavy footsteps were coming from the road ahead. More than one person was approaching.

Seven men stepped out from between the trees. They wore grey coats, and each of them had a black ring on his left hand. The rings were glowing faint violet, the same color as the mark on her wrist. They all looked like men who had never been told no.

The one in front was tall and thin, with a shaved head and a face as pale as candle wax. His coat was buttoned all the way up to his throat. He smiled politely as he looked her over, like a butcher checking whether the meat was still fresh.

Then Vyrella saw the crest sewn onto his sleeve, and her stomach dropped.

She knew that crest. She had seen it burned into the doors of her family’s hall.

“Lady Vyrella,” the man said warmly. “My lord has been looking for you for such a long time.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Last daughter of the house that sold the realm to its enemies.” His smile didn’t move. “I would not want to forget your title.”

“My house never did that!”

“The court records say otherwise.”

Marcus stepped forward. “And you are?”

The man did not even look at him. “Hadrek. Steward to my lord.” He glanced at Marcus for a second. “Lucien Veyr, my lord paid you in full for his claim on her. Step aside.”

Paid in full? Corven had already claimed he had paid for her. Was this another buyer? Or had Lucien managed to make the same mess even worse? Of course he had. Vyrella reached for her sword, but Hadrek lifted his left hand first.

The ring flashed.

Pain tore through her wrist and into her chest, like hot needles under her skin. Her knees hit the dirt before she could even decide to fall.

“Humph!” She had never knelt in her two years of running. Not even to Lucien.

“Kneel properly,” Hadrek said gently. “And greet your new master’s steward.”

“I would rather die!” she spat.

Her arm was shaking. Her whole body was swaying, trying to resist something she couldn’t even see.

And Marcus was watching.

Here it comes, she thought bitterly. He would smirk. Or laugh. Or use this to make her obey him later. Lucien would have done all three.

Except he wasn’t looking at her face.

His eyes were moving from ring to ring. Then to her chain. Then to Hadrek’s smile.

“Quick question,” Marcus said calmly.

Hadrek raised an eyebrow.

“Does your lord have the right to interfere with another man’s active contract?”

“Your contract no longer matters. My lord has a claim.”

“I’m not asking what your lord claims,” Marcus said sharply. “I’m asking whether you have a seal, a signed transfer, anything that voids mine.” He tilted his head. “Because I don’t see any paper. Only rings.”

For the first time, Hadrek’s smile slipped.

Vyrella glanced at Hadrek. His arms were folded, but from where she knelt, she could see that his fingers were shaking against his sleeve.

He was afraid of what that question could mean. “Bind her,” Hadrek snapped. “I am tired of this.”

Two of the men rushed forward and grabbed her arms.

The cracked chain flashed red.

“ARGHH!”

Smoke poured from their hands. One of them threw himself backward, cursing, while the other fell to the ground, clutching his burned fingers.

Hadrek could force the mark to hurt her. But his men couldn’t even touch her.

Because the old chain still enforced Lucien’s claim. Whatever the new mark could do, it had not replaced the first contract.

Marcus saw it too. She could tell by the way his expression changed.

“Get up!” he shouted at her.

It was Lucien’s voice. That deep, smooth, commanding voice she had hated for two years.

But the chain answered it. Its red markings flared against the violet light of the second mark. For a moment, the two bindings pulled against each other, weakening the pressure on her wrist just enough for Vyrella to push against the ground.

Her legs obeyed her.

She stood.

Hadrek squeezed his fist, and the mark flared again. She staggered, but it was too late. She was already moving.

Three of his men came at her. She slammed her elbow into the first one’s jaw, kicked the second into the dirt, and drove her shoulder into the third. Then she grabbed Hadrek’s left hand and bent his fingers back.

CRACK.

The ring split in half.

The pressure on her wrist vanished. The violet light faded from the other six rings as well. Without Hadrek’s ring to direct it, the men could no longer use the second mark against her. But the black stain remained beneath her chain.

Hadrek screamed.

“Tell your master,” Marcus said coldly, stepping beside her, “that Lucien Veyr’s contract is still active. If he wants to claim her, he can come and say it to my face.”

Hadrek held his broken hand against his chest. His men were already pulling the burned ones away from the road.

“My lord will hear about this,” he hissed.

They retreated into the trees.

Vyrella stood there, breathing hard, her wrist still trembling. She should have been relieved she had not been dragged away. Instead, she was embarrassed and furious. Lucien had seen her kneel. He had seen her helpless, unable to fight back.

Her face burned with anger. She turned on him. “Don’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Go on. Laugh. Or use it against me. That’s what you would have done,” she snapped.

Marcus glanced at her wrist. “Are you hurt?”

“Mind your own business.”

“It is my business,” he said, “if you’re supposed to survive long enough for me to get rid of that contract.”

It was a practical answer. A cold, reasonable, selfish answer. He hadn’t even mentioned that she had been kneeling in the dirt like a dog.

Again, that was supposed to calm her down, but she had known this man for years that seeing him act kind all of a sudden was messing with her head. She didn’t know how to answer.

He sighed and started walking again. “Come on. I’m still hungry.”

Vyrella followed him, staring at his back. She still wanted him dead. Of course she did. Seven days hadn't changed that.

So why the hell was she relieved he hadn't laughed?

Neither of them noticed the woman sitting on a branch high above the road, watching them disappear toward town.

She was Seraphine. She had watched the rings fail and heard Marcus challenge Hadrek’s claim.

A smile slowly spread across her face.

“Well, well. Lucien Veyr,” she murmured. “You really are becoming interesting.”

She glanced toward the direction Vyrella had gone.

“And you, my dear, have kept everyone waiting long enough.” The woman laughed softly before disappearing into the shadows.