CHAPTER FOUR
Soon after Reyna finished eating, a sharp chime rang through the kitchen.
A silver bell hung above the central hearth—delicate, ancient, unmistakable.
Reyna flinched.
The reaction around her was immediate.
The kitchen erupted into motion. Demons surged into action, voices overlapping, footsteps striking stone as Maerith moved among them with calm authority, assigning tasks swiftly and precisely—
Everyone was given an order.
Everyone except Reyna.
Prince Damiel's meal was being prepared.
The dishes were arranged upon a wide golden tray—pure gold, from plates to goblets to cutlery, every surface gleaming in the firelight. Reyna stared at it for a heartbeat longer than she should have.
How wealthy must he be…?
Voices rose behind her.
Two demon maids stood near the counter, facing one another with sharp expressions.
"I will not go," one said flatly.
"You should," the other replied coldly. "I served last night."
The first—the same demon girl who had insulted Reyna earlier—snorted softly, her gaze flicking toward Reyna.
"Why should either of us go?" she said smoothly. "The human is Prince Damiel's personal slave, isn't she?"
The words were calculated.
The other maid's lips curved faintly, understanding dawning. "Exactly."
Their voices carried.
Murmurs rippled through the kitchen—agreement, amusement, anticipation.
Maerith turned slowly.
Silence fell.
She looked between the two maids, her expression unreadable. "One of you will serve the Prince."
"With respect, High Steward," the first maid said, inclining her head just enough to appear obedient, "what purpose does the human serve if not this?"
Eyes turned to Reyna.
Disgust. Curiosity. Envy.
Maerith said nothing.
She stepped forward and lifted the golden tray herself.
Reyna's chest tightened painfully.
If Prince Damiel learns the High Steward served him in my place…
Fear surged through her.
Before Maerith could take another step, Reyna moved.
"I will go," she said quietly. "It is my duty."
Maerith turned, surprised.
She opened her mouth to respond—
When the bell rang again.
A second chime.
The kitchen froze.
That sound meant delay. Disobedience. Punishment.
Maerith closed her eyes briefly, then exhaled. She studied Reyna for a short moment before placing the tray into her hands.
"Walk with me," she said softly.
They climbed a wide staircase carved from dark stone, sigils etched deep into its rails. The air cooled with every step. At the top stretched a long hall—vast and solemn—lined with towering pillars veined in silver. Crimson drapes hung heavy between them, swallowing sound.
The floor beneath Reyna's feet gleamed like black glass.
At the far end stood a massive door—taller than any she had ever seen—carved with ancient constellations and inlaid with thin veins of silver that pulsed faintly, as if alive.
Maerith stopped.
"I'll stop here, you go ahead alone," she said gently. "Do not look at him directly. Bow your head at all times. When you finish serving, stand still—with your hands folded before you. Not behind."
Reyna nodded, memorizing every word.
Maerith squeezed her arm once, then turned and walked back the way they came.
Reyna raised her hand to knock.
"Come in," Prince Damiel said from within.
Soft. Controlled.
Her breath caught as she pushed the door open.
The chamber beyond was vast and ancient—high ceilings carved with constellations, stone walls smoothed by centuries, and a long table positioned before a wide balcony that opened to the night sky.
Prince Damiel stood there.
His back faced her.
He rested one hand lightly on the stone railing, posture relaxed yet commanding. He wore dark ceremonial robes layered in black and deep charcoal, the fabric rich and heavy, falling cleanly along his broad frame. Silver embroidery traced sharp, ancient symbols along the collar and cuffs, catching the moonlight faintly. A fitted black tunic lay beneath, belted with silver metal etched in runes.
Power was stitched into every thread.
His silver hair fell loose down his back, stirred gently by the night wind as he gazed over the dark gardens below.
His posture was relaxed—but there was nothing unguarded about him. The night wind stirred his dark cloak as he gazed over the garden.
Reyna approached carefully and set the tray upon the table, setting each plates, cutlery and goblet, down quietly, side by side, when she was done,
She turned to leave when—
He was suddenly in front of her.
Not a step. Not a sound.
One moment the space before her was empty—the next, he was there.
Reyna gasped, instinctively stumbling back a step as shock raced through her. Her breath caught painfully in her chest.
He stood far too close.
His scent reached her—strange and unmistakable. Like rain striking dry earth, something ancient and clean, something human enough to recognize… and dangerous enough to fear.
Her pulse jumped.
Reyna quickly lowered her head.
The movement irritated him.
"Where were you going?" he asked calmly.
She froze, not understanding his question.
"Were you not taught," he continued evenly, "that you do not leave unless I dismiss you? Especially after serving."
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Reyna said softly. "I will be more attentive."
He passed her and took his seat as she stood beside him, close enough to attend to his call.
He ate only a few bites—slow, deliberate. Unlike humans, demons did not need food. Eating was indulgence. Pleasure. Choice.
When he finished, he stood.
Reyna remained still, head bowed, hands folded before her, exactly as Maerith had instructed.
He stopped in front of her.
Close enough that she felt his presence like weight pressing against her skin.
"From now on," he said, "you will serve me."
Her breath hitched.
"You alone. Ask Maerith for my schedule. When the bell rings, you must be here immediately."
A pause.
"A second delay," he added coolly, "will cost you dearly."
"Yes, Your Highness," she whispered.
"And" he drawled,
"Look at me when I speak to you."
Irritation edged his voice.
Reyna lifted her head at once.
Silver met blue.
For a brief, dangerous moment—something sparked.
Not fear.
Not defiance.
Recognition.
Her pulse jumped. His gaze sharpened.
Then he turned away.
"You may leave."
Reyna bowed deeply and packed the dishes as she hurried out.
As she descended the stairs, whispers reached her before she entered the kitchen.
"The bell rang twice…"
"She must have been punished."
"She's human—of course he won't let he go so easily." Lysera said like she could already imagine what Prince Damiel would do to her.
Reyna pushed the door open.
Maerith's eyes lit with instant relief.
Reyna placed the empty tray carefully on the stone counter.
Maerith exhaled softly.
The others did not.
Their faces were tight with anger.