CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
The bell for evening dinner rang through the castle, low and resonant, echoing down stone corridors and into waiting hearts.
Reyna adjusted her grip on the tray and exhaled softly.
Her leg still ached—less than before, but enough to remind her with every step that she was not fully healed. Prince Damiel had ordered her not to attend to him till she had fully recovered.
Now, as she climbed the final steps toward his chambers, her heart beat a little faster.
Inside the room, Damiel stood near the balcony.
He was not hungry.
He had not seen her all morning, and the absence had unsettled him far more than he cared to admit.
She should stay away, he told himself.
She should rest.
And yet— he wanted to see her, he sighed, he had rang the bell to ask Inez about her in guise of serving his food.
A low chuckle echoed in his mind.
"So you admit it," Azaelth drawled. "You miss her." Azaelth teased.
Damiel did not answer.
"You're worried," the demon continued mockingly. "About what she thinks. About the punishment. About whether she fears you now."
Enough, Damiel snapped inwardly.
"And yet," Azaelth purred, "I want to see her too."
Damiel stiffened.
Before he could respond, he felt it.
Her presence.
The sound of her knocking made him eager as he tried to sound cold,
"Come in'' Damiel said coolly, the door opened softly.
Reyna stepped inside.
For a fraction of a second, Damiel forgot how to breathe.
He did not turn immediately. He could not trust himself to. The need to look at her—to confirm she was better, still here, still real—pressed hard against his chest.
He forced himself to remain still.
When he finally turned, he caught her limping ,not too pronounced,but still there, it made him frown, even though he was glad to see her. Prince Damiel was clad in a unique silver robe, finely cut, its fabric catching the light like liquid metal. It matched his hair. His eyes. His very presence. Magnificent and dangerous all at once.
Reyna's breath caught.
She did not understand how his eyes always did this to her—how one glance could leave her so utterly undone. She could look at them for hours and still not be satisfied.
He began to walk toward her.
She dropped her gaze instantly, bowing her head, pretending to focus on arranging the dishes from the tray onto the table. But her attention was entirely on him—on his footsteps, his nearness, the heavy silence that stretched between them.
He stopped just a step away.
"Didn't I ask you," Damiel said coolly, "not to come until your leg was fully healed?"
Reyna froze.
She hesitated, then spoke quietly. "Yes, Your Highness."
"Then why are you here?"
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table. She swallowed.
"I would have stayed away," she admitted softly, "but after what happened to Vaelith and the others… everyone was watching me. Whispering. I didn't want to be there anymore."
She paused, then added, almost defensively, "And it is my duty as your personal slave to serve you. Not others."
Damiel sighed.
Not in anger. In restraint.
"Sit," he said.
Reyna turned in surprise.
He was still standing there, watching her, waiting.
Slowly, carefully, she sat.
His gaze dropped to her leg. The bandage was different—newer. Cleaner.
"Who changed it?" he asked.
"High Steward Inez, Your Highness."
"Hm."
He noticed then how she fidgeted—hands twisting nervously in her lap, fingers worrying the fabric of her dress. He knew that posture. He knew that silence.
He sat down—not across from her, but closer. At the head of the table, near enough that his presence wrapped around her. He knew why she was like that, so he decided to ask her slowly.
"Were you in the kitchen today?" he asked.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Hm. Did you see them?"
"I did."
He could tell she wanted to say more.
So he asked gently, "What do you think?"
Her shoulders tensed.
"It was…" She struggled, words failing her. "I didn't think it would be like that. She's… she's hurt badly, and the others looked"..... she paused trying to find the right word, "terrified" She finished her voice low.
Her head remained bowed, eyes fixed on her hands.
He understood what she meant.
"Look at me," Damiel said.
Slowly, she raised her head.
"You think this was too much," he said, not accusing. Simply stating.
She hesitated, then nodded faintly.
"They hurt you," he continued. "Repeatedly. Deliberately."
"And if I had done nothing, they would have continued" she whispered. "And others would have joined" Prince Damiel said.
Reyna expression softened—just slightly.
"You did not cause this," Damiel said firmly. "Their choices did."
"And understand I didn't punish her for you, I punished her because she crossed the line", Prince Damiel said, partly true, he didn't want her to continue worrying blaming herself.
"A line?", Reyna asked confused.
"She touched what's mine", and as he said that a cold look passed his face.
She searched his face, as if trying to find the lie.
"There are things you do not yet understand about this world," he continued. "But no one will ever hurt you without consequence. Not while you are mine."
Her chest loosened.
For the first time since morning, her mind felt… steady.
"Eat, am not hungry" he said, pushing the food toward her.
She hesitated, why did he send for the food if he wasn't hungry, she thought, but she knew better, than arguing with him, so she picked up the spoon, scoop some rice and shove it in her mouth, she wasn't able to eat all day due to Vaelith and the others condition.
And as she ate, the tension finally eased from her shoulders.
QUEEN ALVIRA — POV
Queen Alvira laughed softly.
"For a HUMAN SLAVE," she murmured with delighted disbelief.
She rose slowly from her seat, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she approached the map laid across the war table. Candles flickered, shadows dancing like conspirators.
She lifted her fist—and brought it down over Damiel's castle with a loud thud.
"Finally," she whispered. "Your weakness."
Vaelor leaned forward eagerly. "What do we do next?"
"We use the demon servant," Alvira said smoothly, as she raised her hand, trying to remember the name of the servant."Vaelith."
"And the other demon servant?" Vaelor asked.
Alvira shook her head. "No. Fear binds them now. Fear makes loyalty impossible."
"And the one whose face was burned?" Vaelor scoffed. "You think she'll feel gratitude?"
"Hatred," Alvira corrected calmly. "She lost what she treasured most. Beauty. Pride. Identity."
Arkes smiled, a proud look on his face as he listened to his mother.
Queen Alvira turned towards Arkes as she smiled sweetly.
"I'll leave it to you, Arkes, send for her," Queen Alvira said. "Quietly."
"Yes, Mother." Arkes said as he stood up, eagerly.
Vaelith Pov
Vaelith scrubbed the clothes against the stone with vicious force, as though each strike could bleed the rage from her hands.
The laundry grounds were dark, isolated—just the way she wanted, the sight of light, seemed to irritate her now.
She reached for the bucket to rinse the clothes.
And froze, her reflection stared back at her from the water, as the moon shone brightly on her face.
A scream tore from her throat as she hurled the bucket away.
"You're directing your anger at the wrong thing," a voice said from the shadows.
She spun, heart pounding.
This was no ordinary demon.
She opened her mouth to scream—
"That would be a mistake," the voice said calmly. "Unless you wish to die before you taste revenge."
The figure stepped into the light.
Prince Arkes.
She dropped her head into a bow instantly.
"On the one who did this to you," he finished softly, tracing a finger along her burned face. She flinched.
"Such a pretty face," he murmured. "Ruined… so another could shine brighter."
Her fists clenched.
"I wonder," he continued, circling her, "what she told Prince Damiel to make him do this to his kind."
She trembled, her fist curled up in anger.
Then he stopped he front of her,
"Do you want revenge", he asked in a cold whisper.
She wanted revenge but her fear of Prince Damiel seemed greater, as she remembered the execution ground, and the feel of the fire against her face, as she shiver.
Prince Arkes seemed to have read her mind as he turned back a hand on his chin, as if supporting his head,
"Do you know the difference between you and those who were executed?" Prince Arkes asked.
She shook her head.
"They had no royal protection," he said. "You would, not just me, the crown prince, and the Queen, and even the King will be on our side."
Her breathing slowed.
"You'll be safe," he promised. "Under us."
He turned around, his hands at his back as he moved closer towards her and stood two steps away from her.
"So I'll ask you once more."
His eyes gleamed.
"Do you want your revenge?"
"Yes, I do" she said instantly, eyes briming with determination and revenge.
"Then come to the east wing tomorrow, at midnight," Arkes said. "And make sure no one sees you."
As he vanished into the shadows, Vaelith's hatred burned hotter than fear.
She looked back at her reflection in the puddle of water she threw away, and this time she didn't turn away.