Chapter Six
Inside the throne hall, the air was heavy with expectation. All five princes were already seated, their voices low, their gazes sharp.
Darien entered last. His steps echoed through the vast chamber, and as he lifted his eyes to the throne, he saw it—his father's gaze. Hatred. Pure, unmasked hatred.
Darien lowered his head, unwilling to look at his brothers or the Queen. He already knew what their faces would hold: mockery, disgust, revulsion. After last night, after feeling the Devil rise in him, he no longer doubted their whispers.
He was exactly what they had always called him.
The Devil's vessel.
"Your Majesty," Darien murmured, bowing low.
As expected, the King gave no reply.
Darien moved to his place and sat, folding his hands, waiting.
King Lucas Wolmort stood from his throne, his presence towering. "I have summoned you all today for something of great importance," he began, his voice carrying like iron through the chamber. "You know of Avaloria—the kingdom of the supernatural. For more than a thousand years they have stood undefeated, unchallenged, their power unmatched. If they were to turn their gaze upon us, if they sought war… Theorondia would fall."
A heavy silence filled the hall. The princes exchanged glances, unease flickering in their eyes.
Darien's mind raced. Was the King truly considering war against Avaloria? If so… he already knew what role he would play. His father always sent him to the deadliest battles with only scraps of an army, as though praying he would never return. And somehow, he always had. But Avaloria… no man could survive a war against them.
Unless I take over you, a voice whispered within him, deep and dark.
Darien's chest tightened. The Devil. Always listening. Always waiting.
The King's voice broke the silence. "So, to prevent such a future, I will propose a marriage alliance. One of you princes will wed one of Avaloria's princesses."
The chamber rippled with shock. None of them had expected this.
Darien's eyes lifted in disbelief. His father—who despised all things supernatural—would willingly bring a supernatural bride into his house?
The King continued, his tone cold, calculated. "The first, second, and third princes are married, with concubines besides. The fifth and sixth are still too young for such responsibility."
His gaze fixed on Darien.
"That leaves only you, fourth prince. Unmarried. Without a single concubine. A perfect match for this duty."
Of course. Darien almost laughed. The youngest princes were twenty-three and twenty-five, hardly too young. But excuses were unnecessary. His father had only ever meant for this burden to fall upon him. The unwanted son.
He should have refused. He should have spat the proposal back in his father's face. And yet… something within him stirred. A pull he could not explain.
Darien rose to his feet. His brothers' eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.
"I will accept the marriage, Your Majesty," he said, bowing low.
"Good." The King's lips curled in something like satisfaction. "The proposal will be sent to Avaloria at once. By tomorrow, we will know which princess they offer."
With that, King Lucas swept from the hall, leaving his sons in silence.
For a heartbeat, only the echo of his footsteps remained.
Then one of the princes sneered. "Perfect match indeed. The Devil's vessel, married to some supernatural creature. Who knows what she'll be—a witch?"
Laughter broke out among them, cruel and mocking.
Darien did not respond. His face remained unreadable as he turned and left the throne room, his footsteps measured, but his chest heavy with fire.
He knew one thing for certain—whatever awaited him in Avaloria, it would not be peace.
Darien left the throne hall in silence, the princes' mocking laughter still echoing in his ears. He did not return to his quarters. Instead, his steps carried him to the army barracks—the only place in this kingdom where he felt like more than a shadow.
As commander, his presence always drew attention, but here, among soldiers who respected him for his strength, he carried himself differently.
Inside the commander's chamber, two men awaited him. Evan and Kane. His closest friends, his most trusted comrades. Unlike the rest of the world, they had never looked at him with fear or disgust. They had once told him it didn't matter to them if he was a prince, a Devil's vessel, or the Devil himself. To them, he was simply Darien—their commander, their friend.
Darien dropped heavily into the high-backed chair, rubbing his temple. Evan and Kane sat across from him, waiting.
"Anytime soon," Darien began, his voice low, "we will be going to Avaloria."
The words made both men stiffen. Their eyes widened as though struck.
"Avaloria?" Kane repeated, almost choking on the word. "The Avaloria? Who in the nine hells doesn't know that kingdom? No human kingdom dares challenge them."
Evan leaned forward, his voice cautious. "By going to Avaloria, do you mean… war?"
"War or suicide mission," Kane muttered darkly, his jaw clenched. "Look, Darien… we know the King despises you, but this? What about the men? They have families. I can't believe he'd throw lives away like that."
Darien shook his head, his lips twisting in something like a bitter smile. "Not for war. For marriage."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the air itself. Both men stared at him in shock.
"That's impossible," Kane snapped, leaning forward. "The King hates the supernatural! Which of his sons would ever agree to marry a princess of Avaloria?"
Evan's eyes flickered, a quiet knowing passing over him. His gaze fixed on Darien.
Darien gave the answer they already dreaded. "I… am the one."
Kane's eyes widened. Evan's lips pressed into a grim line.
"Are you all right with this?" Evan asked at last, his voice calm, measured.
Darien leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Why should I not be? Avaloria has never waged war unless provoked. They are powerful, yes, but not cruel. And besides…" His voice lowered. "I am a Devil's vessel. What difference does it make if I marry a supernatural bride?"
"That's nothing but rumor," Evan said quickly.
Kane nodded. "We don't believe it."
But Darien's eyes darkened. "You should. Yesterday… he took me. Completely. I wasn't in control." His fingers tightened against the arm of the chair. "And he found her."
Evan frowned. "Her?"
"The girl he whispers about," Darien said quietly. "In the forest. He chased her. She was terrified of him."
The two men exchanged uneasy glances.
Kane leaned forward, his tone softer now. "But you're back. Are you… all right?"
Darien looked down at his hands. "Maybe. For now. I don't know when he'll show up again."
He lifted his gaze to his friends, his voice heavy, almost warning. "Remember this—when my eyes turn red… I am not me."
Evan and Kane said nothing, but they nodded, their loyalty unshaken, though their hearts were heavy with dread.