The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 122: The Wedding Night

Chapter 122: The Wedding Night

Rama realized along the line of her precarious fate of getting married to the devil’s son, perks came with it. She wouldn’t let anyone trample all over her and even though Draco could use Malika as leverage to bend her into submission, she figured she could use the bond to bend him into compliance as well.

Amon who had been paying nominal attention to the conversation and rather more attention to the fragile flower at the other side of the banquet hall, mechanically tilted his head to the side, brows raised with a stunned look.

"You marked her?" Amon queried in disbelief, eyes darting back between Rama and Draco, while Ideria was too stunned to speak. Draco merely glanced at them without a reply.

"Yet you say you’re not to blame for the failed wedding when you’d already given your heart to someone else, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were having an affair with the king while you were engaged to my son." Ideria remarked with a bitter tone, her face suddenly turning grim with disgust as she sprouted up on her feet, dashing out of the wedding banquet premises.

She couldn’t even deny the allegations of Damien’s bitter mother if she wanted to. Even though they hadn’t had an affair, their intimate encounters were as close.

Rama gulped down the bitter bile of guilt stuck in her throat like a huge lump, it was all her fault. If only she had revealed the truth to him about her distant heart and rejected his proposal before it all turned out this severe, then she would have avoided this profound situation.

Well, she couldn’t cry over spilt milk, so she’d convey a heartfelt apology to him, that is if he agreed to even see her again, if he didn’t, she’d just have to write an apology letter instead, he deserved a much better apology, but what more could she possibly do than apologize?

Her appetite diminished as she fiddled dryly with her meal.

"Welcome to Draco’s dark world, I hope you’re able to endure till the end." Amon’s menacing voice echoed through the table, a smattering hint of caution in his tone before he settled his gaze on the fragile flower.

Her eyes narrowed at him, but she didn’t reply, she was already aware of the dark world she had been plunged into, but what she had no knowledge of was how dark his world was and how perilous the path she was treading on was.

"Are you done with your meal?" Draco said in a deep, calm voice, making her whip her head toward him with a jerk.

"What? Yes, I’m done." She spluttered with a small voice.

"Good, you look tired, we should retreat to bed." He said stiffly as he sprouted up on his feet, proceeding to exit the premises.

Amon’s gaze swept through them with a mischievous glance, his lips curving up into a sheepish grin. "Retiring to bed so soon? I guess you can’t wait to consummate the union." Amon murmured beneath his breath shamelessly.

No reaction was elicited from Draco whatsoever as he walked past him, although Rama’s brows furrowed, but even she couldn’t deny it.

If he wanted to consummate the wedding night with her, she had no say against his will and she couldn’t even resist him physically, just a single touch from him made her melt in his arms like butter in fire, she wondered what him being inside of her would do to her.

A slight shiver ran down her spine as she thought about it, making her shake her head inwardly as she shoved the thoughts aside, but her intrusive thoughts made it impossible to get rid of them.

She followed him out of the banquet, his hands interlocked with hers as they moved down the hallway, heavy silence weighing over the air made her heartpace intensify more.

As they moved, two maids obstructed their way with heads bowed.

"My lord, it’s time to prepare her highness for...the wedding night." One of them said in a slight splutter, the words felt too heavy for her mouth to carry or even release.

Draco nodded with a grunt and without saying a word, he released her hand and retreated to his chamber, his figure was lost into the darkness residing in the corridors as he strode with graceful steps toward his room.

"Your highness, please follow us to your private chamber, it’s right opposite the king’s chamber." One of the maids said, her tone less agitated than when she was speaking to Draco earlier.

She nodded in silence and followed them as they led her to her private chamber for the preparation of her wedding night, the mere thought of consummating the marriage with Draco, her supposed rival made her blood curdle, but yet she felt her skin tingle.

Nesstled behind ornate, velvet-draped doors, laid the queen’s private chamber. Bathed in a soft, ethereal glow from a crystal chandelier, the room exuded an air of regal opulence.

Crimson and gold tapestries adorned the stone walls, depicting epic tales of valor and mythical creatures. A grand four-poster bed, adorned with silk canopies and plush cushions, takes center stage, while a vanity table laden with jeweled trinkets stood nearby.

Moonlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the polished marble floor. The scent of exotic perfumes and fresh roses lingered in the air, creating an oasis of tranquility for the queen’s moments of respite.

Behind silk curtains, they moved into the bathroom to prepare her for the night. In silence, they stripped off her ivory gown and took out the pins holding her hair in a bun, for it to fall over her shoulders.

She immersed herself into the large ceramic tub filled to the brim with steamy water. They scrubbed her skin kissed by the sun, she couldn’t count how many times she had been scrubbed and dolled up that day, she felt more like a dressing doll than a human.

After bathing, they applied scented oils on her skin, giving it an ethereal glow, and then her hair was also soaked in almond oil as they brushed it to fall in inky waves down her back.

They clad her in a frail silky night dress, almost transparent to the sight before placing a thick robe over her, to conceal her from the sight of others as only the king was to see her in the frail night dress.

Her heart couldn’t stop pounding so loudly in her ears, every minute they spent in dolling her up to be feasted and devoured upon by Draco, anticipation and anxiety settled on her like a rock.

"We’re done your highness, we’ll show you the way to the king’s chambers now." The maids announced, a slight hint of jealousy in their voice, but they dared not disrespect the queen, as she had the power to easily summon their execution.

"Right, uhm I know my way to his chambers, thank you." She said and the maids exchanged glances before exciting the room as they nodded in compliance.

As soon as they left, she let out a shaky sigh, her hands trembled so badly she never realized she could be that nervous until then.

Taking a deep breath and mustering just about enough confidence to face him, she exited the room as she proceeded towards his chambers.

As she moved toward the east wing in the dimly lit corridors contemplating on what to do, a heavy gust of wind blew past the corridor and the flickering torches suddenly snuffed out, leaving her in perpetual darkness.

She subconsciously held her breath as she halted in her steps, eyes searching the darkness in vain. She gulped as she felt an icy presence everywhere, a presence that enveloped the vicinity with a suffocating darkness.

The torches at the far end of the corridor suddenly flamed dimly to reveal a dark figure, even with the dim torches illuminating it’s light on the figure, it still seemed to wallow in its cold darkness.

"W-Who are you?" Rama breathed out in a stammer.

Her throat felt clogged and she felt her stomach twist unnervingly as she stared at the dark figure that was approaching her with graceful yet sinister movement. He moved with the grace of a fallen angel, every gesture designed to ensnare one’s soul.

He halted just a few meters away from her, enough for her to drink in his sinister features, his dark presence and features resembled that of Draco, but in contrast to Draco’s which was a magnetic pull, his was of a darkness that frightened her to the core, one that promised her nothing but darkness and death.

He loomed over her like the cloak of death and darkness merging into one, his golden ember eyes burning into hers as he stared down at her like an object unworthy of his presence.

She wanted to run or scream, but his fiery gaze was a bottomless abyss which left her frozen with just a glance, leaving her dumbstruck.

"Everyone knows me, I have many names but you can call me Lucifer." His voice a velvety whisper dipped in danger sent burning shivers down her spine with every syllable. Like Draco’s smooth velvety timbre, his was calm, callous and dripped with honey laced with poison.

Where shadows writhe and the air was thick with malevolence, stood Lucifer, the Devil, a being of ethereal beauty that defied mortal comprehension.

Cloaked in an aura of darkness, the Devil’s presence exuded a mesmerizing blend of allure and dread, drawing the eye even as it sends shivers down the spine.

Cascading raven black hair spilled like liquid night down broad shoulders and tapered into elegant waves that seemed to shift with a life of their own. Each strand gleamed like obsidian, capturing the faint light of the flames that dance through the abyss.

As the Devil moved, his hair flowed like a living cloak, a tangible manifestation of the supernatural power that courses through this enigmatic figure.

Eyes like burning embers smolder within the depths of an otherworldly gaze, their brilliance capturing the very essence of fire’s unyielding intensity. These ember eyes pierced through the darkness, penetrating the souls of those who meet them with a haunting mix of curiosity and menace. When they fix upon a subject, it’s as if the secrets of the universe lay bare before them.

Drapered in opulent fabrics that seem spunned from shadows and woven from moonlight, the Devil’s attire befits a being of both power and decadence.

The luxurious garments shift and shimmer, suggesting an ever-moving cosmos trapped within the fabric itself. Deep, obsidian hues meld with silvery undertones, creating a dance of contrasts that mirrors the Devil’s dual natural essence.

Rama stood frozen with horror etched on her already pale face, as if he had devoured her soul already, yet he hadn’t even touched a strand of her hair.