– It is a shame that you so disrespect your choices, my king. By humiliating me, you humiliate yourself. Do the subjects of your country dare to laugh at your preferences and future queen? – replied the Flammehav heiress calmly.

This phrase made people stop laughing, and the hall suddenly became quiet.

– Well, you're right about something, future queen. – Derek said the last word in syllables, through clenched teeth. – Have a seat. – He pointed to Queen Varma's empty neighboring throne and gestured for the musicians to continue playing.

"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.