Dimara clung to Kujo like a kitten refusing to leave its perch. Her body was warm, soft, and a little squishy where it pressed against him, and he let out a quiet sigh as her teal hair tickled his neck.
She nuzzled her face against his collarbone, purring faintly. "Can we at least nap here for a bit? You're comfier than those demon court chairs…"
Kujo glanced at the door the Minotaur noblewoman had stormed through not long ago. "We'll rest once we make it through the next summons without any murder attempts."
Dimara giggled, but it faded when she noticed Fiore's eyes narrowing.
Fiore stood at her usual place beside Kujo's chair, arms folded, expression unreadable. Her golden gaze lingered on the demon prince as if sizing him up for the hundredth time.
"Don't get too relaxed," she said, tone clipped but not unkind. "There are still other nobles connected to your family's faction. They'll come sniffing around soon. Especially after what just happened."
"Let them sniff," Kujo muttered. "I'm used to being the black sheep."
"You're not just a sheep, sir," she said. "You're their scapegoat."
He gave her a sideways look, his fingers absentmindedly stroking Dimara's head as she purred louder. "That's a rather bleak metaphor."
Fiore's lips tugged upward for half a second before fading again. "It's accurate."
He leaned back, looking up at the chandelier again. "You know, Fiore… You don't have to be here."
Her expression didn't change. "Excuse me?"
"I mean it," Kujo said, eyes half-lidded. "You're the best swordswoman in the kingdom. Everyone knows that. My parents didn't order you to be my personal guard. You could be leading entire armies, running your own territory, commanding legions. So why stick around me? Why play watchdog to a useless, half-human failure like me?"
Fiore stepped forward quietly and crouched down beside his chair. Dimara peeked up, watching the exchange without saying a word.
"You think you're useless?" Fiore asked.
Kujo shrugged. "It's what everyone else thinks. Even I've started to believe it lately."
Fiore's voice softened, but her words stayed sharp. "You're the only one who ever treated me like more than a tool. When I was a weak demonling, mocked for being born without a crest, you gave me your food. You offered me a dagger when the other trainees hid theirs. And when I lost control and nearly sliced through a commander's throat, you covered for me. You let them punish you instead."
Kujo blinked.
She leaned closer, her eyes steady. "You say you expected nothing in return. That's exactly why I stayed."
Dimara held her breath.
Fiore stood back up. "I don't follow strength. I follow loyalty. And I don't need chains to stay by your side."
Kujo opened his mouth to say something, but a loud knock echoed from the door before he could form words.
A servant entered—a tall, pale man with slicked-back white hair and a single silver monocle perched on his nose. His uniform was black trimmed with red, and he moved with unnerving precision.
"Lord Kujo," the butler said, bowing deeply, "Your parents have summoned you."
Kujo groaned internally.
"They require your presence in the Sunblood Hall immediately. The council is convening. It seems… news of your incident with Lady Minothra has already reached their ears."
Fiore's hand immediately rested on the hilt of her sword. "That was fast."
"Faster than usual," Kujo added. "That means they're planning something."
Dimara wrapped her arms tighter around him and shook her head. "Don't go, Master. They'll just yell at you again. Or worse."
He smiled, resting his hand on her cheek. "I'll be fine. You'll be here when I get back, right?"
Dimara nodded and slowly climbed off his lap, her eyes wet but obedient.
Fiore turned toward the butler. "We'll accompany him."
The butler nodded. "As you wish, Dame Fiore."
Kujo stood up and adjusted his collar. For someone who always felt like the weakest in the room, he was getting used to the feeling of strong women at his side.
Still, as he walked toward the door with Fiore following closely behind, he felt it deep in his gut—whatever his parents wanted from him this time… it wouldn't be simple.
And it sure as hell wouldn't be kind.
The throne room of the Demon Palace was a cold cathedral of obsidian and hate.
Kujo knelt with his head bowed low, flanked by the only two souls he trusted in this place—Fiore standing like a statue to his right, and Dimara curled against his left side, her small body trembling slightly. Her fingers clutched his sleeve like a lifeline, the tips twitching with the instinct to morph into tendrils again.
Above them sat the Demon King, a hulking, horned mountain of a man wrapped in golden plate armor and furs made from the pelts of extinct beasts. His obsidian crown glowed faintly with runes that pulsed with judgment. Beside him, the Demon Queen, elegant and terrifying, rested her chin on one pale hand, her eyes like twin shards of glass.
And around them—eight siblings. Four demon brothers, sharp and cruel as blades, and four demon sisters, draped in arrogance and silk, each of them staring down at Kujo like he was something tracked in from the stables.
None of them bowed when he entered. None acknowledged him as a prince.
"You disgrace this bloodline again," the Demon King growled, voice like grinding iron. "You let your pet attack a noble. You allow the name of House Malveros to be mocked by soft words and weaker hearts. And now… you stand before us expecting mercy?"
Kujo lifted his eyes, but kept kneeling. "If one of my siblings had done the same, would they be scolded this way? Or just congratulated for asserting dominance?"
A wave of silence rolled through the chamber like thunder waiting to crack.
The king's fist slammed into the armrest of his throne. "You dare speak back?!"
Kujo didn't flinch.
His question wasn't meant to provoke—but to expose. And the fact it struck so deep only proved the answer.
The queen's smile tightened, but she said nothing.
One of Kujo's older brothers, General Varkas, let out a sharp laugh. "Maybe if your freak had killed the Minotaur, we could've sold her corpse for meat. That's all she's good for."
Dimara's ears flattened. She curled into herself further, muttering, "I'm sorry…"
Kujo's jaw tensed. "She's not a freak."
"She's a weapon," one of his sisters spat. "One born from our research division's failed chimera project. You should be ashamed to even touch it."
"She's mine," Kujo snapped before he could stop himself. "And I'll take whatever punishment you want to give me—but you don't touch her."
Fiore stepped forward, hand on her hilt. "My prince spoke out of turn. But if any harm comes to the girl, you'll answer to me."
The King stood.
The room darkened as shadows twisted around his boots, as if the floor itself recoiled from his fury.
"Enough," he said.
Everyone fell silent.
His glowing eyes burned into Kujo's skull as he spoke again. "You are still of my blood. And so, for now, I will not erase you. But speak out again, and I will feed the girl back to the research pits. Let them peel her apart and learn something useful from her wretched form."
Dimara let out a sharp breath, her whole body going stiff.
"You're dismissed," the King growled. "All three of you."
They didn't argue. Kujo stood and gently helped Dimara to her feet, his hand never leaving hers. Fiore stepped between them and the court, subtly shielding their backs as they turned to leave.
Not a single one of his siblings looked remorseful. Some even smirked.
Once they were far from the throne room, outside under the cracked crystal arches of the palace's shadow garden, Dimara broke.
She fell to her knees, hands over her mouth, shoulders shaking. "I—I don't want to go back there… Master, please… don't let them send me back…"
Kujo crouched down in front of her and pulled her into a tight hug.
She clung to him instantly, clawing at his back like she was trying to fuse their bodies together.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed into his chest. "I got you in trouble… they hate me…"
"I don't care what they hate," Kujo whispered into her hair. "You're mine. You're safe. I won't let them take you."
"But if I mess up again—"
"Then I'll take the fall. Again."
Fiore stood behind them, arms crossed, silent but watchful.
Kujo stroked Dimara's back, letting her cry for as long as she needed. She was scared—not of pain, but of being discarded. Thrown away again like all the other times. She'd survived in labs, cages, and test rooms filled with screaming.
And now, she only had him.
"You're not going back," Kujo said firmly, leaning back enough to meet her eyes. "You live with me. You play games. You steal snacks. You call me Master in the dumbest voice when you want extra cuddle time."
She hiccuped. "It's not dumb…"
"I know. I love it," he said gently. "And I'll fight gods and kings before I let anyone take that away."
Dimara sniffled, her eyes glowing faintly. "You promise?"
"I swear."
She lunged forward and kissed his cheek, her arms locking tight around his neck.
Fiore finally spoke. "We should move. The walls have ears. And your family has spies."
Kujo nodded and helped Dimara up.
He didn't know how long he could keep them safe.
But if they were all he had in this cursed palace, he'd guard them with everything.
Even if it meant becoming the villain his father always believed he was.