FALLEN ANGEL: MARRIED TO THE DEMON KING
Chapter 38: THE DESIGNERS (2)

Chapter 38: THE DESIGNERS (2)

Without further warning, the small flame leaped from Arella’s finger. It zipped through the air, quick as lightning, and landed on Melsava’s long silver hair. A puff of smoke and a burst of orange light followed as the ends of her hair ignited. The acrid smell of burning hair filled the room.

The other two demons took a small step away from Melasva, not wanting to get even a small flick of holy fire on them. Melasva screamed, clutching at her hair in panic as the fire danced along the strands. Flicking her wrists, a dark shadow engulfed the flame as she tried to suffocate it in order to put it off.

Arella smirked. It was clear as day that this demon had never encountered an angel, nor had she ever fought with one. Her actions were futile, as the fire simply continued to burn past her shadow. The demon clutched at her hair in panic as the fire continued to dance along the strands. The flame was steady as it climbed all the way to the roots, sparing not even her scalp. Her silver hair, her beautiful silver hair, had been burned down to the roots. She could not even fight it. Was she really that weak?

She fell to her knees, numb to the pain the fire sank onto her scalp. Tears welled in her eyes as Arella snapped her fingers, extinguishing the flame with a casual flick. The silence that followed was more deafening than the screams Melasva had been letting out. The acrid stench of burned hair and flesh lingered in the air, as if a reminder of what had just happened.

Melasva remained on her knees, clutching at her now raw and bare scalp. Her eyes brimmed with tears, her proud demeanor shattered. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came—a strangled sob escaping her instead. Her entire body trembled with humiliation as she sunk the tips of her fingers into the small amount of ashes that was once her hair.

Arella leaned back onto the settee, resting her fingers back on the armrest as she regarded the kneeling demon with an almost bored expression. Echo turned his head and rested his chin on Arella’s lap. Arella took a deep breath before placing the portfolios she had been holding on the plush cushion on the settee next to her. She sunk her fingers into Echo’s fur and took in another small breath before looking up at the demons.

"You should consider yourself lucky," her voice was soft. "I could have done much worse; holy fire burns more than just hair, you know." She absentmindedly plucked on Echo’s fur. "I trust you have learned a lesson. If you thought I was an easy pick because I am an angel..." She allowed her sentence to hang in the air, aware that she had made her point.

Melasva’s hands were clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. The urge to lash out was simmering beneath the surface, but now she had a fear of provoking further wrath from the queen. If she would have known that the queen could be so ruthless, she would have chosen to go to the king. However, that would have been much worse. Her father would have been implicated, which would affect the entire family. With a shaky breath, she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her head was hung low, tears still streaming down her face.

"I... will take my leave, Your Highness." She lifted her skirt and gave a curtsy.

Arella raised a brow. "I do not think I have allowed you to leave." Her words caused Melasva to freeze mid-curtsy. "I will still take a look at your portfolio. Your hatred towards me means nothing. All I want to see is work that is up to standard."

Melasva clenched the fabric of her dress tighter, "I understand, your highness." She glanced back at her assistant, who hurriedly walked forward to give a black leather-bound portfolio to Arella.

Arella extended the hand that was not petting Echo to take the portfolio. Her fingers brushed against the leather cover. She placed it on her lap to open it. Part of the book flopped onto Echo’s head, but the creature made no move to get his head off of her lap. Arella dropped her gaze to the sketches within. The designs were unlike anything she had seen in the human and angel realms. The necklines of most of her designed dresses were plunging, and the silhouettes hugged the form tightly. The fabrics depicted were shimmering, shifting between hues of deep crimson, burnished gold, and onyx.

Arella tilted her head slightly as she studied the designs, her expression unreadable. Echo shifted his position slightly, the weight of the portfolio resting against him a minor nuisance, but he made no sounds of complaint.

Arella stopped at one of the pages, her eyes narrowing on one of the sketch designs. The gown was long, with flared sleeves that looked like wings of a shadow. The bodice was form-fitting but flared at the waist with obsidian shards at the polling bottom. "Wow."

Melasva’s trembling form stilled, her face still slightly pale with make-up running down her cheeks. She blinked twice, obviously unprepared for the queen’s positive critique. "Melasva." Arella called out, her voice calm. She did not lift her gaze from the portfolio.

"Yes, your Highness?" The demon’s voice still had a slight tremble, but at least she was no longer crying.

"You really are skilled." Arella turned to the next page. The dress there was a blend of blue and green. The fabric depicted appeared almost alive, as though it could ripple like water. Arella’s fingers paused, lightly tapping the edge of the page and running her hand down the small piece of fabric that had been attached to the top of the page. It was the fabric that Melasva would work with if she made the dress. It was silky, blue-green in color and shimmered like the oceans.

"This is a masterpiece," Melasva preened at the approval, her back straightening so slightly.

"Th-thank you, your highness." She stammered and bowed deeply."

.

S/T:

Arella: I remember when I was but a young Angel, I accidentally burned the hair of one of the playmates I had. Her parents were absolutely livid. Hair is very important to an angel, and without it, one can very well be shunned in society.

Velmoria: (Discreetly looks at Arella’s short hair.) I see.

Arella: The only reason my mother said nothing about the length of my hair is because she did not see it untied on the day of the wedding. By the heavens, if she had seen it, they would have very well been planning my funeral instead of my wedding.

Velmoria: (rolls her eyes) Noble demons are the same. It is almost as if hair determines their rank. (bends down to whisper in Arella’s ear) When I was younger, I snuck into some noble’s houses and cut the hair of their daughters so that they would be ashamed of them and hide them away until their hair grew back.

Arella: (Gasps dramatically) I like you. (Stretches hand out for a handshake.) Let’s be friends.

Velmoria: (Shakes her hand) I like you too, your highness

Varziel: (Has been watching from the corner this entire time.) Don’t teach my wife weird things, Velmoria.

Velmoria: I wouldn’t teach her anything she doesn’t want to know, (Winks at Arella.)

Arella: Can I marry her instead?

Velmoria is left laughing as Varziel comes over and carries Arella away

Varziel: (Turns back) Stay away from my wife.

Velmoria: (Shouts to his back) She’s our wife now!

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