Sympathy for the Demons (Promised to the Demons #1) - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,1

see you visit the nymphs, my lord!” Gillian said.

This was true. The nymphs bored me.

“Which I really like about you,” she added. “It’s kinda feminist of you.”

“It’s not feminist!” I snarled at her. “I am certainly not a feminist. That would mean I thought women deserve equal rights, yes? And I don’t think any of you deserve equal rights. Not men nor women! I am Lord Variel, the Devourer, son of Lord Vorsel, and your eternal master. All of your masters. None of these women are worthy of my affection; they are not even worthy of my seed. Just looking at them, and I disdain them.”

“Give ‘em a chance, anyway,” Gillian said.

“My lord, you want an heir,” Uram said. “How do you think that would happen without a bride? It might be fun to remind them on a daily basis that you are their lord and master, huh?”

“But I already have all of you for that.”

“They came all this way. It’s worth a look.” He held up the suit again. “And you’ll look really good in this suit. They’ll be throwing themselves at you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of…”

I tried to indulge my servants, mainly because I was at least a fair ruler, if not an indulgent one, and I had agreed to this. Even if I wanted to blame it on too much wine, I knew it was actually that I had suffered from one of those fits of restlessness that older immortals once warned me about. They told me that some day, I would get old enough that I would yearn to be mortal. At the time, I laughed. Yearn to be mortal!? Would I also yearn to be small, ugly and stupid?

And then one day I woke up with this feeling as if…well, as if it was all very boring. Every day the same. Ruling over people and being one of the most feared and desired demons in Sinistral might not be enough, but there was no further place to go from here.

My esteemed father told me before he died that when I started to feel this way, it was time to take a bride and have a child of my own.

So here I was. Stuffing myself into a suit that was surely worthy of a demon, with its pointed collar and cuffs, fine jet black collar and buttons made of obsidian, but that was not especially comfortable, and settling into the throne adorned with the skulls of the nine serpents my great-grandfather killed so he could claim this swamp as his domain.

“To Lord Variel, my esteemed master,” called my herald, who was a dour male harpy (very rare, male harpies, and I had never met one who wasn’t trouble). “I present to you the Lady Erisa, of the lamia clan of Misida, daughter of—“

“No,” I said. “I’m not into snakes.”

Lady Erisa immediately took a human form. “I can—“

“No,” I repeated firmly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still not into snakes.”

“What sort of high demon are you to be afraid of a snake?” Lady Erisa said indignantly.

“I never said I was afraid. I said I’m not into you. I don’t think I have to remind you that I am choosing a bride, and I am not required to waste my time arguing with a woman I have no interest in choosing.”

“You insult the House of Misida! I am the most beautiful woman in my lands! I—“

I looked at the guards. Lady Erisa was immediately grabbed, a large hand smothering her mouth, and she was dragged out.

“Jameson, please tell them to put her in the dungeons for a week before she is allowed home. In future, I can’t allow an insult to my character, nor my time to be wasted in such a way.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Jameson passed the order to a page and then flew back to his herald’s post. “Mistress Rutha, of—“

“She isn’t even a noble? I think I deserve better than that.”

Mistress Rutha, a slender young woman with black wings, had already learned the lesson of Lady Erisa. I suppose she didn’t want to spend any time in my dungeon. She was shown out before I knew anything more about her.

Still, I realized, as Uram looked at me with his mouth open in aggravation, that I had to indulge some of these women.

“Lady Heath, descendant of Hades, bringer of shadows…”

Lady Heath entered in smoky black robes with a staff and three ravens accompanying her, one on each shoulder and another perched on the staff. Ah…a crazy bird lady,