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

And your brothers?" Daresh asked quietly. "They just... let him do that to you?"

Reina scoffed, a bitter sound. "They were worse. My brother said I was just a woman-only good for money, a bargaining chip. He said I was good for nothing." Her voice hardened. "They all despised me. Except my mother."

"My mother..." Reina's voice broke.

A tear trickled down her face.

"She kicked and cried and protested when my father tried to sell me. And my father-he slapped her. So violently I shook just watching." Reina's hands trembled at the memory. "That's when I swore I'd never be a slave to any man. I'd never marry anyone who treated me like less than human."

Her voice cracked.

"I just miss my mother. I want to know if she's okay. She's been through so much. It's not fair to her. It's not-"

She couldn't finish.

Reina broke down crying.

Daresh watched her quietly, something twisting painfully in his chest.

Guilt.

She'd been through so much. And he had contributed to her pain. His army had destroyed her kingdom. Taken her mother. Enslaved her.

She was sobbing now, and she looked so small. So vulnerable.

He'd grown up in a place where people boxed up their emotions, where everyone was strict and cold. He didn't know how to react to tears. Didn't know how to comfort someone.

But without thinking, he moved.

He scooped her into his arms and pulled her against his chest, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

And somehow-surprisingly-it worked.

She leaned into him, her sobs quieting.

And it felt right. Like he belonged here. In her arms. Holding her.

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said quietly, his voice rough. "I'll help you find her. I promise."

A mother.

The word echoed in Daresh's mind.

He'd never known his mother.

His thoughts drifted back-back to when he was little. A young boy, not above ten years old.

FLASHBACK:

The Demon King had invited all the princes and their mothers to dinner. A rare occasion. A family gathering.

They sat side by side at the long table-each prince next to his mother.

Except Daresh.

He sat at the end of the table. The seat next to him was empty.

Callum spoke first. He was a few years older than Daresh and took particular pleasure in tormenting him. It hadn't always been that way. When they were both younger-below the age of five-they'd been best friends.

But then Daresh's hair had turned silver.

And rumors spread through the castle: forbidden child.

After that, Callum's mother had pulled him away. Told him not to play with Daresh anymore.

The King-Daresh's father-had always neglected him. The maids cast him ugly glances wherever he went. His only solace had been his swordsmanship.

So at an incredibly early age, Daresh had started learning to fight.

He was a fast learner. His skills were impeccable-far beyond what anyone expected from a child his age.

Callum's mother had clearly seen him as competition, because she'd pushed Callum into the training yard too. But no matter how hard Callum tried, he was never nearly as good as Daresh.

And that had only made things worse.

"Having dinner alone, white hair?" Callum said with a mean smirk. "Where's your mother?"

The other brothers laughed.

Daresh felt like disappearing.

He remembered another time-years earlier. He and his brothers had gone to welcome their father home from war. Daresh had followed them eagerly, excited to see the King.

His father had hugged each brother with smiles and warmth.

Until it was Daresh's turn.

The smile had disappeared from the King's face. Replaced instantly with a look of irritation.

He'd barely acknowledged Daresh at all.

Daresh had been a hurt child. Sad. Lonely.

He'd never known love. Never been shown compassion.

He was raised by the soldiers he spent his evenings with. At an early age, he'd been forced to bottle up his emotions, to show no signs of weakness.

The Captain of the Guard had been certain he'd make a great soldier one day.

And he had.

But at what cost?

He remembered another day.

His brothers and their friends had ganged up on him-cornered him in the training yard. They'd thrown him into a fire pit.

Not just any fire. The red fire-a mysterious, ancient flame that could burn even fire demons. Only the most terrible criminals were thrown into it. Some were left there to die.

Daresh had been terrified.

But even then, even as a child surrounded by flames that ate at his skin, he'd fought back. Defended himself.

He'd injured his brother Pierre in the process-broken his arm, maybe his ribs.

Pierre's mother had wailed and screamed, dragging her son to the King. She'd made such a fuss, crying about how Daresh was a monster, how he'd attacked her innocent boy unprovoked.

Daresh had tried to tell his side of the story.

But it fell on deaf ears.

The King had locked him in the dungeon as punishment. No trial. No questions.

Just... punishment.

That was when Daresh had first thought about ending it all.

One day, he'd wandered deep into the bowels of the castle and found it-a little underground pool hidden beneath the stone floors.

He didn't know what had drawn him there.

Maybe it was the water's extraordinary silver shimmer-like his hair.

Maybe it was the way it glowed faintly blue-like the flames in his eyes.

But either way, he'd felt... warmth from it.

Like a mother's embrace.

Like a long-lost love yet to be unlocked.

And he'd wanted to jump in. To risk his life. To unlock whatever secrets lay beneath that shimmering surface.

He knew the consequences. Fire demons couldn't survive magical water. They'd die.

But Daresh didn't care.

He had nothing to live for anyway.

He stood at the edge of the pool, staring down into the blue-silver depths.

Just jump. End it. The pain will stop.

He leaned forward-

And strong arms yanked him back by his shirt.

A familiar, unfriendly voice growled behind him. A dangerous aura pressed down on him like a physical weight.

His father.

The King was furious. Daresh could see it in his eyes-those cold, burning eyes that had never once looked at him with love.

He said nothing.

Just ordered Daresh dragged away.

This time, the punishment was worse.

They threw him into the fire again-held him there while his father watched.

The pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt. His skin burned. His bones ached. Every nerve in his body screamed.

But Daresh didn't make a sound.

Didn't beg. Didn't cry.

He just... endured.

Part of him wanted it to end. Wanted the fire to consume him completely so he wouldn't have to feel anything anymore.

When they finally pulled him out, his father ordered water poured over the burns.

Salt in the wounds.

Daresh walked out of that punishment room with his skin charred and blistered, his eyes burning a fierce, furious red.

He climbed to the top of the castle.

And he jumped.

"DARESH, NO!"

A shriek tore through his thoughts, yanking him violently back to the present.

"Don't kill yourself! NO, DARESH!"

It was Reina's voice-terrified, desperate.

It was the first time she'd ever called him by his name.

He blinked, disoriented, his heart pounding.

She was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes, tears streaming down her face.

"You-you were going to jump," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I saw it. I saw everything. The fire. Your father. You were just a child-"

Daresh's breath caught.

She saw his memories.

How was that possible?

Only mates could share memories. And he'd always thought that was a myth. A fairy tale demons told each other.

But she'd seen it. Seen everything.

His chest tightened. Panic clawed at him.

He didn't know how to process this. Didn't know what it meant.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.

And without a word, he turned and stormed out.