Chapter 33 — The First Court
The war room of the loyalist citadel smelled of sulfur, forged steel, and old blood.
Cairis stood at the head of the obsidian table like a king who had crawled out of his own grave. Power rolled off him in visible waves, making the lesser demons in the room instinctively lower their heads.
Liora stood at his right side, shadows curling lazily around her shoulders like a living mantle. The bite marks on her neck were still visible — dark, possessive, and deliberately left uncovered. She no longer tried to hide them.
The commanders and nobles watched her with a mixture of fear, lust, and calculation.
One of them — a broad-shouldered demon with cracked horns — finally spoke.
"A mortal witch bonded to our prince? This is an insult to the bloodlines. She should be a concubine at best, not standing at your side as an equal."
The room went still.
Cairis's claws scraped the table as he leaned forward.
