Bound to her Captor

The first thing Reina felt was pain.

Her head throbbed with every jolt of the wagon, each bump in the road sending fresh waves of agony through her skull. Her wrists burned-rope, she realized dimly, rough hemp cutting into her skin. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and fear, and somewhere close by, a girl was crying.

Reina forced her eyes open.

Darkness. No-not complete darkness. Slivers of harsh sunlight cut through gaps in the wagon's wooden slats, illuminating the faces of perhaps a dozen other girls, all huddled together like frightened animals. Some sobbed quietly. Others stared at nothing, their eyes hollow and distant.

Where am I?

The question formed slowly through the fog in her mind, and with it came a creeping sense of dread.

She remembered.

The memory slammed into her like a physical blow-the sound of screaming, the acrid smell of smoke, the clash of steel on steel. Her kingdom. Her home. Burning.

They had come at dawn.

Reina had been in the gardens, as far from her father and brothers as she could manage, when the first screams reached her. By the time she ran back to the palace, it was already too late.

The demons had come.

That's what the servants called them, in the whispered stories they thought the nobles couldn't hear. Demons from the realms beyond the mountains, beautiful as fallen angels and twice as deadly. Reina had thought they were just stories.

She'd been wrong.

They moved through the palace like death itself-men, if they could be called that, with impossibly perfect features and eyes that burned like coals. Their hair fell in dark waves past their shoulders, and they cut through her father's guards as easily as a scythe through wheat.

She'd hidden in an alcove, frozen with terror, and watched a demon warrior drive his blade through her father's chest.

She should have felt something. Grief. Horror. Rage.

Instead, she felt nothing. Her father had never been kind. Never been loving. He'd been preparing to sell her off to some foreign lord like a prize mare, and she'd hated him for it.

But her mother-

"Reina!" Her mother's scream cut through the chaos, raw and desperate.

Reina had tried to run to her, but rough hands seized her from behind. She'd fought-clawed and kicked and bit-but it was useless. Something hard connected with her skull, and the world had tilted sideways.

Then: nothing.

Until now.

"Water," someone croaked nearby. "Please... water..."

Reina turned her head-too quickly; fresh pain exploded behind her eyes-and found herself looking at a girl no older than fifteen, her face streaked with tears and grime.

"There isn't any," Reina said, her voice rough from disuse. "Save your strength."

The girl's eyes widened in recognition. "Your Highness-"

"Don't." Reina cut her off with a sharp gesture. "That doesn't matter anymore."

But the word had already spread. Around her, girls were lifting their heads, staring at her with a mixture of hope and despair. They wanted her to fix this. To save them.

She couldn't even save herself.

"Where are they taking us?" someone whispered.

Reina didn't answer. She didn't know. But she could guess: slavery, if they were lucky. Something worse, if they weren't.

She pressed her face to one of the gaps in the wooden slats, squinting against the harsh light. Through the narrow opening, she could see nothing but endless desert-red sand stretching to the horizon under a sun that beat down like a hammer.

They were far from home. Far from anything she'd ever known.

And then, in the distance, she saw it.

A gate.

But calling it a gate was like calling the ocean a puddle.

It rose from the desert floor like a monument to some forgotten god-a massive arch of black stone that seemed to drink in the sunlight rather than reflect it. Strange symbols covered its surface, glowing faintly with an inner fire that pulsed like a heartbeat.

The wagon rolled to a stop.

Around her, the girls began to scream.

"No! No, please-"

"I don't want to die-"

"Somebody help us!"

Reina's fingers dug into the wooden floor of the wagon, her nails splintering against the rough grain. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced herself to breathe slowly, evenly.

Panic wouldn't help. Panic would only make this worse.

The gate began to open.

It made no sound-that was somehow worse than if it had groaned or shrieked. It simply... parted, the black stone sliding aside to reveal what lay beyond.

Heat rolled out in waves, washing over them like the breath of some enormous furnace. Through the opening, Reina could see a landscape that belonged in nightmares: jagged mountains of volcanic rock, rivers of something that glowed like molten gold, and in the distance, a palace that seemed carved from darkness itself.

The demon realm.

It was real. All of it was real.

"Move!" A harsh voice barked, and the wagon lurched forward.

They crossed the threshold.

The moment they passed through the gate, Reina felt it-a change in the air, in the very fabric of reality. The heat intensified, pressing down on her like a physical weight. The light took on a reddish tinge, as if the sun itself had been replaced by something older and angrier.

This was not her world anymore.

The wagon stopped in a courtyard paved with black stone that reflected the sky like dark water. All around them, demons moved with predatory grace-soldiers in armor that seemed forged from shadow, servants in flowing robes, creatures that were beautiful and terrible in equal measure.

The wagon's door slammed open.

"Out! All of you, out!"

Rough hands grabbed Reina, yanking her forward. She stumbled, her legs numb from hours of confinement, and hit the ground hard. Pain shot through her knees, but she bit back the cry that rose in her throat.

Don't show weakness. Not here. Not ever.

Around her, the other girls were being dragged from the wagon, thrown to the ground like sacks of grain. One-the young girl who'd begged for water-fell face-first and didn't get up. She just lay there, sobbing into the black stone.

Something hot and furious flared in Reina's chest.

She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the protests of her battered body, and moved to the girl's side. "Get up," she said quietly, firmly. "Get up now."

The girl looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes.

"We're not going to die here," Reina told her, with more confidence than she felt. "But you have to stand. You have to be brave. Do you understand?"

Slowly, trembling, the girl nodded. Reina helped her stand.

Other girls were watching now. Drawing strength from her example, standing straighter despite their fear.

Good.

If they were going to survive this, they'd have to be strong.

They were herded like cattle into a side chamber, where servants with cold eyes and colder hands stripped them of their filthy clothes and doused them with freezing water. Reina gasped at the shock of it but held still, refusing to flinch as rough cloth scrubbed away layers of dirt and blood.

When it was done, they were given simple gray shifts to wear-rough fabric that chafed against her skin-and led back out into the courtyard.

Fifteen of them now, standing in a line.

A soldier paced before them, his armor gleaming dully in the red-tinged light. "Prince Daresh requires servants for his personal quarters," he announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "He will inspect you shortly. You will keep your eyes down. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not move unless commanded."

He paused, letting his gaze sweep over them. "Break these rules, and you will be sent to the lower pits. Trust me-you don't want to know what happens there."

Reina's jaw tightened. Personal quarters. She knew what that meant. What men like this prince would want from girls like them.

Her stomach churned, but she kept her expression neutral.

Footsteps echoed across the courtyard-slow, measured, deliberate.

An older woman emerged from the shadows of the palace, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, her face lined with age and something harder. Cruelty, maybe. Or just years of survival in this place.

She walked down the line of girls, studying each one with sharp, calculating eyes.

When she reached Reina, she stopped. Tilted her head.

"This one has spirit," she murmured. "The prince might find that... interesting."

Reina said nothing. Kept her eyes down, her breathing even.

The woman moved on.

"The prince approaches," the soldier called out. "Eyes down!"

Reina's heart hammered in her chest.

And then she heard it-the sound of boots on stone, drawing closer.

The footsteps stopped.

Silence fell over the courtyard like a held breath.

Every girl in the line had her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Every girl except-

Reina looked up.

She couldn't help it. Some defiant part of her-the part that had never learned to bow to her father, that had refused to be broken even when they'd tried to sell her off like property-demanded to see the face of her captor.

And what she saw stole the breath from her lungs.

He was beautiful.

Not the soft, pretty beauty of human nobles, but something sharper. Harsher. Otherworldly. His hair fell past his shoulders in waves of pure silver, catching the strange light and seeming to glow with its own inner radiance. His features were perfect-sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, full lips set in a slight frown.

But it was his eyes that trapped her.

Blue.

Not the blue of the sky or the sea, but the blue of the hottest part of a flame-the part that burns so intensely it transcends orange and red and becomes something purer. Something deadly.

The hottest fire burns blue.

The thought rose unbidden in her mind, and with it came a terrible realization: this man-this demon-was the most dangerous thing she'd ever seen.

And he was staring directly at her.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. His blue-flame eyes locked onto hers, and she saw something flicker in their depths-surprise, maybe. Or curiosity.

Then the soldier barked, "Eyes down!" and Reina's gaze snapped to the ground, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Stupid. So stupid.

The footsteps resumed, moving down the line. She heard the prince's voice-low, smooth, utterly cold-saying, "That one. And that one. And her."

The footsteps returned. Stopped in front of her.

She could feel him staring at her, could feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

"This one too," he said finally, his voice washing over her like dark silk.

And then he was gone, his footsteps fading back toward the palace.

The old woman materialized at Reina's side, her fingers digging into Reina's arm like claws.

"You four. With me."

She led them away from the courtyard, through a doorway and into the palace proper. The corridors were dark, lit only by torches that burned with the same unnatural blue flame as the prince's eyes. The walls were smooth black stone, carved with images Reina didn't want to look at too closely-demons and fire and things that screamed silently in eternal torment.

"You'll be taken to the servant quarters," the old woman said as they walked. "You'll be given instructions. You'll follow them precisely. The prince..." She paused, glancing back at them with something that might have been pity. "The prince does not tolerate mistakes."

Reina said nothing. Just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, through the darkness of this nightmare she'd woken into.

Her mother was out there somewhere. Alive or dead, she didn't know. But Reina would survive this. She would find a way.

She had to.

Behind them, the gate to the demon realm groaned shut with a sound like the closing of a tomb.

There was no going back now.

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.

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.