Chapter 3 Battle Scars

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.