The Duke's eyes flicked toward Velra's
shackles, then to the magic collar that hummed with golden runes.
That woman—
even now, even bleeding and sealed—
radiated power enough to warp the air if she tried.
Just one spell of hers could tear down the manor.
One misstep could cost hundreds of lives.
'She's useful.
But she's also a disaster waiting to happen.'
Risk and reward.
Death and opportunity.
A razor's edge.
As a lord, as a protector of thousands, hesitation was unavoidable.
Trusting a demon—
especially one of noble rank—
was folly bordering on madness.
"Not exactly the response you were hoping for, I see," Velra murmured with a trembling exhale.
"Is this all the trust my life can buy?"
The Duke's reply came instantly.
"Whatever your status in the Evildon Empire might be, what does it matter? Here, you are nothing but a demon."
His tone wasn't cruel.
Just painfully, sharply honest.
And Velra flinched.
