The Demon Castle felt different after Prince Darius arrived.
The air was heavier, like something invisible had settled between the stone walls. I noticed it the moment I stepped into the courtyard that morning. Guards stood straighter. Servants whispered more quietly. And everywhere I went, I felt eyes on me.
Darius's eyes.
He leaned lazily against a marble pillar, arms crossed, watching me as if I were an interesting puzzle rather than a person. When our gazes met, he smiled—not warm, not cruel, but playful in a way that made my skin crawl.
"So," he said, walking toward me without invitation, "this is how you live now? Playing servant in a demon's castle?"
I stiffened. "It's none of your business."
"Oh?" He stepped closer, too close. "Everything about you is my business."
Before I could respond, a sharp presence cut between us.
Azrath.
He appeared silently, placing himself just slightly in front of me. Not blocking me completely—just enough to make a point. His crimson eyes burned as they locked onto Darius.
"You're standing too close," Azrath said flatly.
Darius laughed softly. "Jealous already, Demon King?"
Azrath didn't answer. But his hand tightened, and I felt the tension ripple through him like restrained fire.
Darius turned his attention back to me, voice lowering. "Tell me, Seraphina… are you happier here than you would've been as my bride?"
Something snapped inside me.
"I would rather starve than live as someone's possession," I said. "And I would rather die than belong to you."
Silence.
For the first time, Darius didn't smirk.
His expression changed—not anger, not amusement—but something unsettled. As if my words had struck somewhere deeper than he expected.
"…Interesting," he murmured. "You don't beg. You don't bend."
He stepped back slowly, eyes never leaving mine. "Careful, Princess. People like me don't like losing what interests them."
Azrath's voice dropped dangerously low. "Then stop being interested."
Darius glanced at him, smiling again—but this time, the smile was sharp. "Or what?"
Azrath leaned in, aura flaring just enough to make the ground beneath us hum. "Or you'll learn why demons don't play games."
For a moment, I thought they might fight.
Darius finally chuckled and raised his hands. "Relax. I'm only a guest… for now."
As he walked away, I realized something terrifying.
He didn't see me as a toy anymore.
He saw me as a challenge.
Azrath turned to me then, his voice quieter. "You shouldn't let him provoke you."
I looked up at him. "You don't trust him."
"No," he admitted. "And I don't trust what he wants from you."
There was something in his eyes then—something protective, something raw.
And for the first time, I wondered…
Was I standing between two kings?