Chapter 2 The silver haired prince

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.