CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After Reyna left Prince Damiel's chambers, she walked quietly to her room.
Midnight had already settled over the castle, the corridors quiet, her shadow stretching long across the stone floors as she walked by. Midnight cloaked the palace in a rare quiet, the torches along the corridors burning low, their flames flickering like tired sentinels.
When she got to her room, she sat down, as her mind drifted to earlier events.
She shouldn't have done what she did.
She shouldn't have stayed.
She shouldn't have touched him.
She shouldn't care.
And yet—she did.
The memory of Damiel on his knees, his breath uneven, his body trembling with pain, twisted something painfully inside her chest. He had looked… broken. Vulnerable in a way no one was ever meant to see. The Prince of Avalon, feared by demons and beasts alike, reduced to silent suffering.
Her heart ached at the thought.
She sighed softly, as she layed down, exhaustion finally pulling her under as sleep claimed her.
Damiel had gone back to sleep after his encounter with Reyna, his body was still weak from the pain it was subjected to.
And as Damiel slept, he dreamt.
Chains bound his wrists and ankles, cold and unyielding, biting into his skin no matter how hard he struggled. Darkness stretched endlessly around him, thick and suffocating.
Then a voice spoke.
"Prince Damiel of Avalon… I have been dying to meet you."
It came from the shadows—smooth, calm, and powerful. Damiel strained his eyes, trying to see its owner, but the darkness swallowed everything whole.
He pulled against the chains, as he tried to break free.
They didn't move.
"It's useless," the voice continued, drawing closer. Silent. Slow. Dominant. "You cannot fight physically what was meant for the mind."
"Who are you?" Damiel demanded, his voice low but echoing through the void. "And what do you want from me?"
A pause.
"You," the voice replied softly. "And who I am… you know that better than anyone else."
The presence began to retreat, fading back into the darkness.
"See you again, Prince Damiel."
The words echoed into nothingness.
Damiel jolted awake.
He sat upright in bed, breath sharp, heart pounding. His eyes scanned the room, and then his wrist, nothing, it was clear, and so was his ankles, he rose and walked toward the balcony. The night air brushed against his skin—cool, calm.
Different.
So was he.
"Do you think it's related to the pain and other nightmares?" Azaelth asked from within, his voice quieter than usual.
Damiel exhaled slowly. Why speak now?, he thought, he often had nightmares and pain, but this was the first time the darkness spoke, who was that?, and how did he know his name?. Why did it say he knew him?. And why now, when it had always been silent?.
And then—Reyna's face came to mind.
Her eyes.
Her touch.
The way the pain had obeyed her.
Without thinking, he closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was standing inside her room.
Reyna slept curled on her side, breath soft, lashes resting against her cheeks. Moonlight kissed her skin, her dark hair spilling across the pillow like ink.
She slept peacefully unaware of his presence. Damiel moved closer, each step slow, deliberate, as though he feared the moment would shatter if rushed. He crouched in front of her and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
He didn't think.
He didn't want to.
Being near her calmed something deep within him.
She stirred slightly in her sleep.
Damiel straightened at once and vanished, returning to his chambers as silently as he had come.
He sat on the edge of his bed, as he tried not to think too much about what had happened.
Morning came too quickly.
Reyna woke early and headed toward the bathhouse, Prince Damiel had sent for her, she was going to resume her duty as usual, she thought, when pain exploded through her leg.
A wooden bucket struck her hard.
She cried out as she fell, hitting the floor with a sharp gasp. Vaelith walked past her without stopping, a satisfied smirk curling her lips.
Reyna sat there for a moment, staring at her swollen leg as tears streamed silently down her face. She swallowed the pain and forced herself up, limping toward the tub.
She bathed.
She endured.
When she was done, time was already far spent.
Inez noticed immediately, Reyna walked into the kitchen, it was impossible to miss afterall.
"What happened?" Inez asked, helping Reyna sit as she winced, as her eyes found Vaelith giving her a death stare,while Inez was busy looking at Reyna's bruised leg.
"It's nothing," Reyna said quietly.
Inez reached for herbs, concern etched deep into her expression—just then the bell rang.
Reyna froze.
Prince Damiel.
"I'll send someone else," Inez said quickly.
"No," Reyna replied, panic tightening her chest. "I'll go."
Damiel had said she alone would serve him.
She took the tray prepared by the demons and made her way to his chambers, limping.
Immediately she knocked Damiel voice came from within.
"Come in'', he said as she pushed the door open and limped in.
When she entered, Damiel stood his back against the door, a scroll in his hand, with damp silver hair, dressed in a simple black robe edged with silver lining.
"You're late," he said coldly, still not turning back
Her heart stuttered. What will my punishment be?
"I'm sorry your Highness, it wasn't my intention''Reyna repliedwith a bow as she continued limpingtowards the table
He turned fully—and saw her limp.
"She's hurt," Azaelth snarled, fury lacing his voice.
Damiel's gaze locked onto her leg.
"Who hurt you?"
Reyna froze, as she dropped the tray on the table.
"It was a—"
"Make sure whatever leaves your mouth is the truth," he interrupted, anger sharp in his tone.
She swallowed hard. She couldn't lie.
"It was a demon servant, Your Highness," she said softly, head bowed.
In a blink, Damiel stood before her.
He lifted her chin with a single finger, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"A servant," he said coldly, rage simmering beneath his calm, "dared to touch what's mine?"
Azaelth snarled in approval.
"I would like to see," Damiel continued, voice deadly smooth, "what gave her such audacity."