Thank You, Rolfe.

"Speak carefully, Father," Rolfe growled. 

"Oh really?" The king raised his eyebrow at him, his horns curling and becoming darker. He pointed to Iona. "You want to marry this werewolf who was the Dark Witch, who worked according to Etaya's plans, who was with dark forces and at the moment who knows that she is even sane. Why would you marry such a woman?"

Rolfe's Adam's apple moved up and down. "Because she is my mate and because I know that she is not the Dark Witch anymore. Release her at this moment for she is not your target. I am. So take me instead of her. I don't want her to stand in your shitty palace even for a moment." His eyes went to his siblings—two brothers and his sister, who were standing in their tunics and armor. They looked coldly at him with their green eyes and he returned the favor. 

Ileus' lips parted at his response. Prince Rolfe was more admirable than the entire demon royalty multiplied by hundred.