For the first time since I arrived at the demon palace, I asked for something.
"I want to learn," I said.
Kaelith raised an eyebrow from where he stood at the far end of the war chamber. "Learn what? How to bow like the nobles who whisper behind your back?"
I stepped forward. "No. I want to learn how your world works. Politics. Rules. Magic—anything that can help me survive here."
He stared at me a long moment, then finally nodded. "Fine. Lira will arrange it. You'll join the observation court tomorrow."
"What's that?"
"Where snakes go to sharpen their teeth."
Not exactly comforting.
The next day, Lira escorted me to the observation hall. The chamber was built in layers—nobles seated on high balconies, watching from above like predators sizing up prey. At the center, demon lords and ladies debated territory, alliances, and old laws in a language of veiled threats and smug smiles.
"You'll sit beside me," Lira whispered, patting the seat.
"Does Kaelith attend this?"
Lira shook her head. "No. He hates courtly games. He only shows up when someone needs to be set on fire."
I half-laughed. It was a joke… mostly.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the dark ridges of the mountains, I wandered through the palace's west wing garden—Kaelith's garden, I'd learned. A rare place of quiet. Magic hummed faintly in the air, like the ground itself was alive.
"You're not supposed to be here," came a voice behind me.
I turned to see him—Kaelith—his flame-red eyes softening slightly in the fading light.
"I needed air," I replied. "I didn't think you'd mind."
"I don't."
That surprised us both.
He moved closer, not threatening this time—just… there. A strong presence, like fire that had stopped trying to burn.
"You don't belong in that court," he said.
"Then where do I belong?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he knelt beside a patch of pale blue flowers and touched one gently.
"They're frostblooms," he said. "They only grow in demon soil when snow magic touches the ground."
I knelt beside him. "But there's no snow here."
He looked at me then. "No. There isn't."
A strange shiver ran through me. The petals brushed my fingers—cool, almost familiar.
He stood. "Go back before someone sees. The nobles will twist even flowers into a threat."
"And what about you?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Are you going to twist me too?"
His expression darkened, but not with anger. "I don't know what you'll become, Arin. But I know this: if they come for you again…"
He turned, cloak sweeping behind him like a wave of fire.
"…I'll burn them all."