The servants' quarters were dark, damp, and suffocatingly hot. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and something else-fear, maybe, or despair.

Inside, Reina saw girls like herself crammed into the small space. Some were younger, barely more than children. Others bore bruises and cuts from rough treatment. They huddled in corners or sat with their heads down, eyes hollow and defeated.

Reina's heart sank into her chest. This is my future, she thought. This is what I've become.

She knew immediately that she had to find a way out. She couldn't stay here. She wouldn't.

Before she could sink further into despair, the old woman who had led them here-the one with the severe face and cold eyes-called out sharply.

"You four! With me!"

She herded Reina and the other three chosen girls out of the quarters and down another corridor. They entered a massive kitchen, where fires roared in stone ovens and servants moved quickly, preparing food and drink.

The old woman pointed at one of the girls. "You. The prince requires tea. Take it to his quarters. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not look him in the eyes. Pour the tea and leave."

The girl she'd pointed at-a thin thing with pale blonde hair-went white as a sheet. Her hands were already trembling as a servant placed a tray with a teapot and cup into them.

The old woman turned to Reina. "You. Scrub those dishes."

She pointed to a massive pile of dirty plates and cups in a basin.

Reina opened her mouth to protest-she was a princess, not a-

But the woman's sharp eyes cut her off. "Did I stutter?"

Reina's jaw clenched. She said nothing. Just moved to the basin and began scrubbing.

But her eyes followed the blonde girl as she walked nervously toward the door, the tea tray rattling in her shaking hands.

The prince, Reina thought. The one with the silver hair and blue eyes.

Something twisted in her stomach. Not quite fear. Not quite... something else.

She forced herself to focus on the dishes.

Minutes passed. Then-

The blonde girl came stumbling back into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.

"He-he sent me away," she sobbed. "I almost spilled the tea and he-he just looked at me and I-"

The old woman's face hardened. She grabbed the girl by the arm and tossed her across the room

"Stupid girl," the old woman spat. "Useless whores who can't do anything right."

"I can do it."

The voice cut through the silence. It was Reina's voice.

She quickly put a hand over her mouth, her heart beating rapidly. Why had she said that? For all she knew, the prince was deadly and evil. She was supposed to hate him. But she was rather intrigued by him.

She wanted to see him again.

The old woman's cold eyes fixed on her. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she thrust the tea tray into Reina's hands.

"Fine. Go. And if you fail..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

As Reina walked down the hallway to the prince's quarters, she stared at the paintings on the walls. They were menacing-depictions of demons and fire, battles and blood. The figures seemed to watch her as she passed, their eyes following her movements.

She walked quickly, her footsteps echoing on the black stone floor.

Without warning, she nearly bumped into someone.

One of the prince's men.

She recognized him from the courtyard-he'd been standing beside the prince during the selection. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his armor dark and well-worn. His hair was tied back, and his expression was cold, unreadable.

But the strangest thing was his scent.

He smelled of freshly picked lilies.

It didn't match his appearance at all. He looked tough, strong, dangerous. The opposite of what he smelled like. He intimidated her where she stood.

"Move along."

The words were loud and clear in her mind-but his mouth hadn't moved.

Reina froze. Did I just... hear his voice in my head?

Fear washed over her, cold and sharp. She stumbled backward, nearly dropping the tea tray.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Just watched her.

Reina didn't wait. She turned and hurried down the corridor, her heart hammering in her chest, fighting the urge to break into a run.

What is this place? What are these demons?

And ahead of her, at the end of the hall, stood a door.

The prince's door.

The door was majestic-black and mighty, with strange inscriptions carved into its surface. The doorknob seemed to be on fire, flames licking around the metal.

This place is terrifying, Reina thought.

But she summoned her courage. She had to do this. She had to see him again.

She reached for the doorknob, bracing herself for the heat-

It was ice cold.

She gasped at the shock of it, but before she could pull away, the door swung open on its own.

She stepped inside.

The room was beautiful-nothing like the dark, grim hallway she'd just walked through. The prince was a man of taste, clearly. Dark purple curtains hung from the windows, and elegant gold upholstery covered the furniture. The air smelled of fine wine and royalty, rich and intoxicating.

Everyone smells good here, she thought absently.

And then she saw him.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

He sat in a grand, throne-like chair near the window, bathed in the red-gold light filtering through the curtains. He looked like something out of a dark fairy tale-beautiful and dangerous in equal measure. His silver hair caught the light, and he was dressed in armor, as if preparing for battle.

He didn't look at her. Acted like she wasn't even there.

Reina's hands trembled slightly as she approached the table set for tea. She forced herself to focus. You've done this a thousand times. You're a princess. You were trained for this.

She poured the tea perfectly-not a drop spilled, the angle precise, the steam rising in elegant curls.

Her eyes kept darting to him. He was gorgeous. That perfect face, those sharp cheekbones, that strong jaw. She hated that she noticed. Hated that her heart was racing.

He's leaving, she realized, seeing the armor. Going to battle. This might be my only chance.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

"Who are you?" Her voice came out stronger than she expected. "And what did you do to my people?"

Silence.

For a long moment, he didn't respond. Didn't even look at her.

Then, without lifting his gaze: "Does it matter?"

His voice was deep and smooth, like dark silk sliding over her skin. It shouldn't have affected her the way it did-shouldn't have made her breath catch, shouldn't have sent warmth pooling low in her stomach.

But it did.

Stop it, she told herself. He's a monster. He destroyed your kingdom. He-

He looked up.

Those blue eyes-flames frozen in ice-locked onto hers.

And he smirked.

Like he'd heard every traitorous thought in her head.

From where Daresh sat, he studied her.

She had hazel eyes that flashed with defiance even as fear lurked beneath. She was small, delicate even, but there was strength in the way she held herself. Smooth skin, despite the dust and grime of her journey. Beautiful brown hair that fell in waves past her shoulders.

And something else-something in the way she moved, the way she spoke.

Royalty, he thought. She was royalty once.

Interesting.

Reina couldn't bear it-couldn't stand the weight of his gaze, the knowing smirk on his perfect lips.

She stepped backward.

And then she turned and ran.

Fled from the room like a frightened child, her heart hammering, her cheeks burning with shame and something else she didn't want to name.

Behind her, she heard nothing.

But somehow, she knew he was still smirking.

Daresh was still amused, his mind lingering on the girl who'd just fled his chambers like a startled deer, when a sharp scent cut through his thoughts.

Rosemary.

He knew immediately who it was.

"Clifford," he said without looking up.

His right-hand man and friend stepped into the room. They'd grown up together-Clifford's father had been a general in the King's army, and Clifford had lived in the castle since childhood.

Daresh had been a lonely child. He'd scared the other demon children, including his own brothers. His power, even then, had been too great. Too different.

But Clifford had been the only one brave enough to approach him.

Daresh remembered the first time they'd met. He'd been at the pool-the one beneath the castle-throwing stones into the water and watching the ripples spread. Clifford had been fascinated. Why would a fire demon like them be so comfortable near water?

So Clifford had walked right up to him and started talking.

They'd been inseparable ever since.

"Your Majesty, this is no time to sit around," Clifford's voice cut through the memory. "Your troops are waiting, and demons are advancing."

Daresh looked up.

Clifford was a short, hefty man with fire-red hair that matched his personality and a thick, powerful build. He was intimidating in appearance-broad-shouldered and battle-scarred-yet he had one of the friendliest demeanors Daresh had ever encountered. It was a strange combination, but it worked.

Clifford also had a rare gift: he could track other demons by their scent alone. It was a highly sought-after skill in the King's army, which made it all the more surprising when Clifford had opted out and joined Daresh's troops instead.

Loyalty like that was hard to come by.

"You look good, Your Highness," Daresh said playfully, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Clifford's expression didn't change. "This is no time for jokes, Your Majesty."

The sound of thousands of horses and chariots filled the air outside as the prince and his troops prepared to depart.

In the kitchen, Reina paused mid-scrub, her hands stilling in the basin of cold, soapy water.

"What is that?" she asked, turning toward the old woman who'd been overseeing the servants.

Silence.

The other girls kept their heads down, too afraid to speak. Reina was the only one who dared.

The old woman's sharp eyes flicked to her. For a moment, she looked like she might reprimand Reina for speaking out of turn.

But then she answered, her voice flat. "Prince Daresh's troops are leaving for battle."

Reina's heart skipped.

Battle.

She thought of the silver-haired prince with his cold blue eyes and knowing smirk. The one who'd heard her thoughts. The one whose voice had sent shivers down her spine.

He's going to fight.

And despite everything-despite hating him, despite what he'd done to her kingdom-she felt something twist in her chest.

Worry.

Daresh rode at breakneck speed, his horse's hooves pounding against the scorched earth. Lincoln trailed closely behind, his eyes scanning the landscape for threats.

They didn't have to wait long.

Within minutes, they were surrounded by a sea of low-level fire demons-foot soldiers with black armor and burning eyes. They emerged from the rocks and crevices like insects, hundreds of them, forming a wall of bodies between Daresh and his destination.

"It's a trap!" Lincoln shouted.

Daresh's jaw tightened. Of course it is.

This had his brother's stench all over it. Callum. The Crown Prince. The one who hated Daresh more than any of the others, who controlled these demons like puppets, who would stop at nothing to see him dead.

Daresh drew his sword, the blade igniting with blue flame. "Then let's give them a fight."

The battle was chaos.

Fire demons swarmed from all sides, their weapons clashing against Daresh's blade in a symphony of metal and rage. He cut through them with precision, each strike lethal, each movement calculated.

But then something changed.

The air shifted.

A high-pitched shriek pierced the sky, and Daresh looked up just in time to see them-air demons, descending from the clouds like vultures. They were eerie, skeletal creatures with translucent wings that shimmered like glass. Their bodies were thin and elongated, almost ghostly, and their eyes glowed a sickly green.

Callum had made an alliance with them.

"Daresh, look out!" Lincoln's voice was distant, drowned out by the beating of wings.

Before Daresh could react, the air demons were upon him. They circled him like a storm, their wings flapping in unison, creating a gust of wind so powerful it lifted him off his feet.

His horse screamed and bolted.

Daresh was thrown backward, away from his men, away from Lincoln and Clifford, tumbling across the ground until he slammed into a boulder.

Pain exploded through his ribs.

He tried to stand, but they were already on him.

Punch after punch. Their fists-bony and sharp-slammed into his face, his chest, his sides. Their swords, thin as needles but sharp as razors, sliced through his armor and into his flesh.

Blood poured from a dozen wounds.

But Daresh wasn't one to be messed with.

And he certainly wouldn't give up without a fight.

With a roar of fury, he grabbed one of the air demons by the throat mid-strike. Its eyes widened in shock as his hand-burning with blue flame-closed around its neck.

And then he ripped its head clean off.

The body disintegrated into ash.

The other air demons froze, their green eyes wide with sudden fear.

Daresh grinned through the blood on his face. "That's your weakness, isn't it?"

They were like flies. Fragile. Easy to crush-if you could get your hands on them.

He lunged.

The fight that followed was brutal. The air demons were fast, but Daresh was faster. He tore through them one by one, his hands and blade finding necks, wings, anything he could destroy. Their shrieks filled the air as they fell, their bodies turning to dust before they even hit the ground.

By the time the last one fled, Daresh was alone.

Breathing hard. Covered in blood-his own and theirs.

His vision swam. The wounds were deep. Too deep. Even his demon healing couldn't keep up.

He staggered, trying to find his bearings, trying to figure out which direction led back to-

"Your Majesty!"

It was Clifford's voice, cutting through the haze.

Daresh turned-or tried to-but his legs buckled. He caught himself against a rock, breathing hard, his hand pressed against the worst of the wounds on his side.

Clifford appeared through the smoke and dust, his face pale. "I tracked your scent. Are you-Gods, you're hurt."

"I'm fine," Daresh growled, though blood dripped from his mouth.

"You're not fine." Clifford moved to support him. "We need to get you back to the castle. Now."

***At the castle***

"You ambushed me."

Daresh's voice echoed through the throne room as he stormed in, his boots leaving bloody footprints on the polished black stone.

The King sat on his throne, his face carved from ice, expressionless. Beside him, on the right, sat Callum-the Crown Prince-his lips set in a full pout, barely concealing his disappointment.

He'd hoped his brother would be dead.

Daresh looked awful. His armor was torn, his flesh ripped open in a dozen places, blood still seeping from the wounds. He reeked of sweat and demon blood, and yet he stood tall, his blue eyes blazing with fury.

"You're all-powerful, brother," Callum said with mock sympathy, leaning back in his seat. "Surely you could handle a couple of air demons. You turned out all right, didn't you?"

His tone was light, playful even. But his eyes were cold.

Callum had always hated Daresh.

He didn't fully understand why-or perhaps he understood too well and refused to admit it.

Daresh was different. He had no mother. Their father-the King-paid him no attention, treated him like a mistake, a stain on the family name.

And yet.

And yet.

Somehow, Daresh commanded more respect than any of them. The generals admired him. The soldiers followed him without question. No matter how hard Callum trained, no matter how many battles he fought, Daresh was always better-stronger, faster, more skilled.

He was handsome. Popular. Powerful.

Everything Callum wanted to be but wasn't.

And Callum hated him for it.

He wanted him dead.

"Stay away from me," Daresh said, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes locked onto Callum's with an intimidating stare that would have made lesser demons cower.

Callum didn't flinch. Just smiled that infuriating smile.

The King said nothing. Just watched as Daresh turned and stormed out of the throne room, blood dripping in his wake.

On his way back to his quarters, Daresh left a trail of blood behind him. It seeped from his wounds, staining the floor with every step.

Slaves were immediately sent to clean it up-scrubbing the black stone on their hands and knees, their heads bowed in fear.

Among them was Reina.

She moved mechanically at first, her hands working the cloth over the bloodstains, her mind elsewhere. But as she cleaned, something twisted in her chest.

His blood.

She thought of the silver-haired prince with the cold blue eyes. The one who'd smirked at her. The one whose voice had made her tremble.

He was hurt. Badly.

And despite everything-despite hating him, despite what he'd done to her kingdom-her heart ached for him.

Why do I care?

She shouldn't. She knew that. He was a demon. A monster. Her captor.

But she couldn't stop the pull she felt toward him.

Before she could think better of it, Reina glanced around. The other slaves were focused on their work, heads down, scrubbing in silence.

No one was watching.

She stood, her heart pounding, and slipped away from the group.

Down the corridor.

Toward his room.

Reina pushed the door open without thinking.

The room reeked of blood and sulfur. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the dying embers in the fireplace, making it difficult to see clearly.

And then she saw him.

She shrieked.

Daresh was sitting in a chair near the window, slumped forward, barely holding himself upright. He was badly wounded-his head cut and bleeding, his body stabbed in multiple places. He had what looked like bite marks on his back and arm, the flesh torn and ragged.

He looked like death itself.

"What are you doing here? Leave."

His voice echoed in her mind, sharp despite his weakness. He was too injured to speak aloud.

But Reina wasn't scared of him.

"You're hurt," she said, her voice calm and steady. "You need help."

Before he could protest-before he could order her out again-she walked confidently into his bathroom, grabbed water and a rag, and returned to his side.

She began to clean his wounds.

Daresh didn't protest. He just sat there, watching her.

She worked with surprising skill, her hands gentle but efficient as she wiped away the blood and dirt. When she was done cleaning, she applied balms to the worst of the cuts, her fingers moving over his skin with care.

She wasn't supposed to know how to do this. Princesses didn't clean wounds. But Reina had learned from her servants-they'd been her only friends growing up, and they'd taught her things no one else would.

Daresh sat in shock, watching her.

There was something special about this girl. This slave. This human who should have been beneath his notice.

She made him feel things he'd never felt before-giddy, uneasy, happy all at once. It was disorienting. Terrifying.

She wasn't scared of him. Instead, she was bold. Defiant. Brave.

He admired her.

He wanted her.

Wanted to be with her. Wanted to know everything about her. But he was scared.

In the past, his brothers had tried to set him up with women-beautiful demon women who'd thrown themselves at him, trying to seduce him, to find his weaknesses. None of it had worked. Daresh had paid them no attention.

But Reina was different.

She'd captured his heart from the first moment he'd seen her in that courtyard, looking up at him with those defiant hazel eyes.

And now, here she was, cleaning his wounds, thinking thoughts he could hear in her mind-thoughts that made his blood burn hotter than any fire.

She wanted him too. Even if she didn't fully realize it yet.

And it was driving him mad.

He wanted to pull her onto his lap. Pin her to the bed. Do sinful, wicked things to her until she forgot her own name.

A sharp sting from one of his wounds brought him crashing back to reality.

He observed her as she worked-how tender she was, how brave. There were bruises on her arm and forehead from when she'd been captured, dark marks against her smooth skin.

Daresh felt a sharp pang of guilt.

He'd allowed the King to attack her kingdom. He'd led the army that destroyed her home, killed her father and brothers.

And yet here she was, caring for him.

Why?

Reina was lost in her own thoughts as she cleaned his wounds.

She realized, with a strange mix of confusion and clarity, that she cared deeply for him. She didn't know why. She should hate him. After all, he was responsible for the death of her father and brothers. For the destruction of her kingdom.

Yet all she could feel for him was pity.

And something else.

Something she didn't want to name.

"I'm sorry if it hurts," she said softly, forcing the words out. "I'll leave now."

She'd spent too much time with him. The other maids would be looking for her. She'd be in trouble if-

"Stay."

His voice stopped her in her tracks. Not in her mind this time-out loud, raw and rough.

"Don't go."

Daresh heard himself say the words, and he no longer cared if she was a trap set by his brothers. He no longer cared about anything except the fact that he wanted this woman.

And he'd do everything to have her.

Seeing her turn to leave made his heart ache-more painfully than any of the wounds on his body.

"I have to go," Reina whispered.

And then she left.

Her heart was beating painfully in her chest. It always beat like that when she heard his voice.

She didn't understand it.

But she couldn't deny it.

Reina could hardly sleep that night.

Images of the prince kept flashing through her mind-his wounded body, his blue eyes watching her as she cleaned him, his voice in her head telling her to stay.

Why do I feel this way for him?

He was a demon. A monster. And she was just a human. Just a common princess who'd been viewed as nothing more than a bargaining chip by her own father.

She remembered how her father had tried to sell her off to a rich human king before the attack on the castle. She'd protested, and he'd slapped her. Her brothers had scoffed and laughed.

"You're only a woman," one of them had sneered. "What use could you possibly be to us?"

Tears had filled her eyes that day, and she'd decided then and there that she had to escape.

She'd been on the verge of running away from her own castle when the demons attacked-when they killed her father and brothers, destroyed everything.

Now, here she was. Trapped in a different castle. A demon castle.

She had to find a way out.

Reina tried to draft an escape plan in her mind. She couldn't go through the main gates-that would be suicide. But maybe if she ran far enough, fast enough, she could reach the desert. Find a way back to the human realm.

But even as she thought it, her mind drifted back to him.

The prince.

Daresh.

The way he'd told her to stay. The way his eyes had roamed over her body. She'd seen something in those blue flames-longing. Maybe even... love.

Had he seen the same in her eyes?

No. Stop it.

That's what demons do, she reminded herself. They tempt you. They lead you astray. They make you think-

Stop.

She forced her eyes shut and willed herself to sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING

Reina woke up bright and early.

She went to the kitchen, prepared tea, and carried it to the prince's quarters.

This time, she didn't hesitate. She entered the room without knocking.

And immediately regretted it.

The prince was half-naked.

He stood near his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of loose black shorts. His torso was bare, every muscle defined and perfect. He was tall-taller than she'd realized-and his body was flawless.

But what shocked her most was this:

All of the wounds were gone.

Every stab wound. Every cut. Every bite mark. They'd all healed completely. There wasn't even a scar.

It was like last night had never happened.

Reina stood frozen, staring, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was seeing.

And then the tea tray slipped from her hands.

The porcelain shattered on the floor with a deafening crash.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, dropping to her knees immediately. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I-"

She began picking up the broken pieces, her hands shaking.

One of the shards was sharp. Too sharp.

It sliced across her palm, and blood welled up instantly.

She hissed in pain.

When she looked up, the prince was standing in front of her.

He knelt down, his blue eyes locked onto her bleeding hand. Without a word, he tore a piece of fabric from his bedsheet and gently wrapped it around her wounded palm.

His touch was surprisingly tender.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and calm.

She swallowed. "Reina."

He tied off the makeshift bandage and met her eyes. "Thank you for everything yesterday, Reina."

Her heart skipped.

"You can call me Daresh," he said.

She nodded quickly. "Okay, Your Majesty."

For a brief moment, she saw something flicker across his face-annoyance, maybe. Or amusement. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

But he said nothing.

Reina stood abruptly, her pulse racing. "I-I have to go."

And then she fled.

Again.

As she hurried down the corridor, one thought pounded through her mind:

"I have to leave this palace. As soon as possible.

I don't like the way he makes me feel.

It had been a week since her last encounter with the prince.

She hadn't seen him since.

Reina told herself she didn't care. That it was better this way. But deep down, she felt embarrassed. Sad. Even... heartbroken.

He doesn't want me, she thought bitterly. I'm nothing to him.

She knew she had to escape the palace soon. Before these feelings got any worse.

As she walked into the kitchen one morning, she noticed something.

The back door was open.

Cold air flowed in from the desert beyond, carrying with it the scent of sand and freedom.

It was enough.

Reina didn't think. She just ran-as fast as her feet could carry her-out the door and into the vast, desert-like valley that stretched endlessly before her.

"Your-Your Majesty, one of the slaves escaped! Through the kitchen door!"

The old woman was trembling so badly she could barely speak.

"I-I promise, Your Highness, it wasn't my fault-"

Daresh sat at the table, eating his lunch without looking up. He was about to pardon the old woman-she was clearly terrified enough-when a thought struck him.

Which maid would be brave enough to run away?

"What slave?" he asked, his voice cold.

"One of the humans. A girl. The one who serves Your Majesty tea."

Daresh's hand tightened around his fork, the metal bending slightly under the pressure.

Reina.

A strange, unfamiliar feeling gripped his chest. Fear. And worry.

"We have to find her," he said, standing abruptly.

Clifford, who'd been standing nearby, observed the prince carefully. This human slave seemed to arouse emotions in him that Clifford had never seen before.

"We can't go after her, Your Majesty," Clifford said cautiously. "She'll be dead by now. It would be a waste of time."

Daresh's blood boiled.

Without another word, he stormed out.

The demon realm was crawling with lower-class demons-monsters that ate humans, tortured them, did unspeakable things to them for sport.

The thought of what might happen to Reina made Daresh's heart ache in a way he didn't understand.

I have to find her.

Luckily, her footsteps were easy to trace in the sand.

Reina had been running for hours.

It was getting dark now, and the desert seemed to come alive with eerie noises-howls, screeches, things she couldn't identify.

She thought about turning back, but she'd gotten lost. She had no idea which direction the palace even was anymore.

Then, a figure emerged from the ground ahead of her.

At first, it looked almost human.

But as it got closer, she saw that it wasn't.

It was unnatural-a grotesque being with thick blue skin, its body covered in rusted chains. It had sharp teeth, long claws, bulging eyes, and a bald, misshapen head.

More of them began to rise from the sand, surrounding her.

Reina screamed.

"Well, well, well," the leader said, licking his black, ugly lips with a long, forked tongue. "What do we have here? A human."

One of them grabbed her, pinning her to the ground. She cried, kicked, begged-but they paid no heed.

They were determined to harm her.

The leader leaned forward, his breath hot and rancid-

And then he froze.

All of them did.

They dropped to their knees, heads bowed.

Reina felt it before she saw it-an overwhelming aura, powerful and commanding, pressing down on the air itself.

She pulled herself up and looked.

Daresh.

He stood there, silver hair gleaming in the fading light, blue eyes burning like twin flames. He looked beautiful. Deadly.

And every single monster bowed before him.

"Your Majesty," the leader stammered, his voice shaking. "Forgive us. We didn't know she was yours."

Daresh's expression didn't change. "Who said she was mine?" he said coldly. "She was trying to run away from me."

The demon looked up, confused. "Is... is she yours, Your Majesty?"

Daresh's eyes shifted to Reina.

There was something in his gaze-pity, maybe. Or something deeper.

"Only if she says she is," he said.

The silence stretched.

Reina's heart pounded. She understood what he was asking. What he was offering.

Her survival depended on her answer.

"I am his," she said, her voice trembling but clear.

I just gave a demon prince possession of myself.

Daresh smiled-wildly, almost ferally.

In a blink, his sword was drawn.

And in another blink, all the demons were dead.

They didn't even fight back. They just knelt there and let him kill them, one by one, their bodies turning to ash.

Before Reina could process what had just happened, Daresh scooped her up effortlessly and placed her on his horse.

They rode back to the palace in silence.

He took her straight to his room.

"Have a shower," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

UA maid appeared moments later with clean clothes-silk clothes, soft and luxurious. It was the first time Reina had worn anything like this since she'd been captured.

She washed her hair, letting it fall in waves behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked like a princess again.

And for the first time in weeks, she felt like one too.

When Daresh walked in and saw her, he stopped.

He was spellbound.

"You'll stay here for now, Princess," he said softly.

The word hit her like a blow. Princess. He'd called her a princess-not because he knew she was one, but because he wanted her to be his princess.

"Why?" she asked.

His blue eyes locked onto hers.

"Because you said you were mine," he said simply. "So I'll treat you like mine."

He turned to leave, then paused at the door.

"Get some rest, Princess. I'll be back soon."

And then he was gone.

Daresh couldn't help but stare at the girl sleeping in his bed.

His bed.

She looked so peaceful lying there, her brown hair spread across the pillow like silk, her breathing slow and even. She was beautiful. More than that-she was his.

His mate.

He knew it. Had known it from the moment she'd looked him in the eyes in that courtyard. He was just too afraid to say it out loud.

He'd fought for this human girl. Killed for her. And he wasn't turning back now.

He could read her thoughts-heard them even now, soft and hazy in her sleep. She liked him. Maybe even more than she wanted to admit to herself.

But it didn't change the fact that this was wrong.

He still had to find a mate. A proper mate. And his mate certainly couldn't be human. It was against the law. Against the natural order of things.

Demons didn't mate with humans.

And yet...

He couldn't help himself.

He wanted to touch her. Hold her. Pull her into his arms and never let go.

But that might scare her.

So instead, he sat down in the chair beside the bed and just... watched her sleep.

His gaze was so intense that it must have disturbed her dreams.

She shifted in her sleep, her brow furrowing slightly. Her breathing quickened.

And then her eyes sprang open-suddenly, sharply, as if she'd been jolted awake by a nightmare.

The first thing she saw was him.

Those silver hair. Those burning blue eyes. Staring at her.

Reina's cheeks flushed a deep pink, embarrassment flooding her features. She turned slightly on the bed, pulling the blanket up higher.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

Daresh's jaw tightened. "I thought I told you to call me Daresh."

"Okay, Your Highness," she said with a small, defiant smirk.

He couldn't help the way his lips twitched.

She was stubborn. And she knew exactly how to annoy him.

He liked it far too much.

A knock came at the door.

Daresh stood and opened it. A maid stood there, her head bowed, holding a beautiful silk gown draped over her arms.

"For the girl, Your Majesty," the maid said quietly.

Daresh took the gown and closed the door. He turned to Reina.

"Get dressed," he said, handing her the gown. "We'll have breakfast together."

Before she could respond, he walked out of the room, giving her privacy.

Reina stood there for a moment, holding the gown. It was beautiful-deep emerald green silk that shimmered in the light, embroidered with gold thread. The kind of dress a princess would wear.

The kind of dress she used to wear.

She changed quickly, her fingers trembling slightly as she fastened the buttons. The fabric felt like water against her skin, soft and cool. She found a brush on the vanity and worked through her hair until it fell in smooth waves down her back.

There was perfume too-something floral and light. She applied a small amount.

When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself.

She looked like a princess again.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the bedroom and into the main chamber.

The dining area was set up near the window-lavish didn't even begin to describe it. The table was carved from dark wood, set with gold plates and crystal glasses. It was bigger than the entire dining room in her father's palace. Three times the size, at least.

And sitting at the head of the table was Daresh.

He looked up as she entered.

And froze.

His blue eyes swept over her, from her face down to the emerald gown and back up again. His gaze was so intense it made her stop in her tracks.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"No," he said, his voice low and soft. "You just look..." He paused. "Beautiful."

Her cheeks flushed pink.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him. "Please."

She sat, trying to steady her racing heart.

The table was laden with food-more food than she'd seen in weeks. Fresh bread, roasted meats, fruits, cheeses. Delicacies she'd forgotten existed.

They began to eat in silence.

It had been so long since she'd tasted anything like this. In the servant quarters, they got scraps-stale bread, thin soup. This was a feast.

After a few minutes, Daresh spoke, his voice breaking through the quiet.

"Did you sleep well?"

She looked up, surprised by the question. "Yes. Thank you. For saving me."

He set down his fork, watching her carefully. "You keep running away from me."

There was no accusation in his tone. Just... curiosity. Maybe amusement.

"Why?" he asked, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

Reina's eyebrows drew together, a flash of defiance in her eyes.

"Wouldn't you?" she shot back. "If you were captured and enslaved? Wouldn't you try to escape?"

For a moment, he said nothing. Then his expression softened.

"I would," he admitted quietly. "I did, once. When I was young."

She blinked, surprised. "You tried to escape?"

"Not escape," he corrected. "I just... tried to find somewhere I belonged."

The words hung in the air between them.

Reina didn't know what to say to that.

Daresh picked up his glass, taking a slow sip before speaking again.

"Your family," he said carefully. "In your kingdom. Were they kind to you?"

Reina's hand stilled on her fork. She hadn't expected such a personal question.

She looked down at her plate.

"No," she said finally, her voice flat.

Daresh waited, giving her space to continue if she wanted.

She took a breath.

"My father saw me as property," she said bitterly. "Something to trade. He didn't care about me. He just wanted to be richer, more powerful. So he decided to sell me off to an old man-some king who wanted a young wife."

Her jaw clenched at the memory.

"He didn't care that I hated the idea. Didn't care that I begged him not to. All he cared about was the alliance. The gold