The next morning, the palace was buzzing. Servants rushed through the halls whispering, guards doubled their posts, and the staff refused to meet my eyes.
Something was happening. Something big.
I pulled my cloak tighter around me as I followed the long hallway toward the garden balcony. I needed air. Space. Peace.
But I only made it halfway before I overheard voices.
"…this is a disgrace to the bloodline," said a low, gravelly voice. "A human queen? Have we fallen so far?"
"She'll never last three months," replied another. "If the poison doesn't work, pressure will. Mark my words—she'll beg to return to her realm."
I pressed myself against the cold stone wall, heart hammering.
"Kaelith has never bowed to anyone. But now? He brings a human into our house? Into our lineage?"
"She's just a pawn. She doesn't even have magic. She's nothing."
Their footsteps faded.
My fists clenched at my sides.
Nothing.
That word echoed louder than the rest.
Later that day, Kaelith summoned me to the throne hall.
It was my first time seeing him in his full regalia—dark armor etched with flame sigils, his long cloak sweeping the floor like smoke trailing from a fire. His horns glinted faintly under the torchlight.
He didn't look at me as I entered. He simply said, "Walk with me."
We walked down a stone corridor lined with tall windows. I followed silently, until I couldn't anymore.
"They hate me," I said, quietly but firmly.
Kaelith didn't stop walking. "They fear what they don't understand."
"That's a nice way to say they want me dead."
He turned sharply. "Let them try."
His eyes burned—not with anger at me, but at them. Whoever they were.
"You shouldn't have to fight your own court for this," I said softly.
"This isn't about you."
That stung more than I thought it would.
He paused, then added, "They've been waiting for me to fall in line for years. To marry a demon princess. Bear heirs. Bow to the traditions of a throne I never asked for."
"And now you're using me to push back."
He looked at me, and for the first time, I didn't see hatred or coldness in his gaze—just exhaustion. And something… deeper.
"You're not a weapon," he said finally. "Not to me."
That night, I returned to my chambers and stared at the ceiling.
They said I was nothing.
But if that were true, why was the entire demon court so afraid of me?