Zaliyah awoke from his midday nap with a sudden, jarring clarity. For the first time since his awakening, the castle felt eerily quiet.
The stools where Harun and Iruna usually sat were empty, the wood cold. He sat up, yawning, and moved toward the tall silver mirror to gather his hair into a messy bun.
As he lifted his arms, his fingers brushed the scarry ridges on his throat. He leaned in, squinting at the reflection. Insects have claws? he mused, his brow furrowing. He wasn't a scholar of demonology, but he knew enough of the world to recognize the difference between a sting and a tear. He didn't fully buy the "bug" story, but he pushed the thought aside. Usually, those who knew nothing were the safest, and he had a child to protect.
His gaze fell upon the mountains of bags from their shopping trip. A small giggle escaped his lips.
Maybe I overdid it. He thought, His mind flashed back to the Ruo Han Residence,to the stern, weathered face of Lord Caius. The "Old Geezer,". He could almost hear the man's grating voice complaining about how Zaliyah didn't know how to manage money, how he was a drain on their resources. That memory, usually bitter, was cut short by a sharp knock on the door.
Zaliyah opened it to find Harun standing there, looking weary but focused. Zaliyah smiled, gesturing for him to enter, and quickly scribbled on his note Where is Iruna?
"Sleeping, Your Highness," Harun said, his voice low. "Thalassa is asking for you in the Grand Hall. The amenities for the child have arrived, and she insists you see them for yourself."
Excitement sparked in Zaliyah's chest. He didn't even bother to dress fully, he simply threw his fur coat over his light undergarments and followed Harun out.
The Grand Hall looked different today, it looked like a warehouse of ivory and silk.
The room smelled of lavender and fresh wood. Thalassa stood amidst a sea of cradles, toys, and fur blankets.
"The merchants didn't know which color you preferred," Thalassa said. "So they brought them all."
Zaliyah's eyes moved to the rows of baby beds-or "cribs," as he now learned they were called. There were dozens. White, gold, dark oak, blue. It was too much. The nursery was supposed to be a sanctuary for his child , not a storage unit.
He felt a pang of guilt. Too much for one child, he thought. He grabbed his paper and wrote, Are there any orphanages here?
Thalassa and the guards blinked, looking genuinely confused. Zaliyah rolled his eyes and clarified: Homes for children with no parents. Children who have been abandoned.
"Oh," Thalassa said, her expression clearing into a cold neutrality. "No. We do not have such things. But we do have a central market-a place where such children are auctioned to noble houses for service."
Zaliyah felt the blood drain from his face. His stomach churned with a sudden disgust. He looked at Thalassa, then at the twins. Everyone looked... normal. There was no horror in their eyes, no shame. To them, the sale of children was as mundane as the sale of livestock.
It was a cold reminder. No matter how much Iruna brushed his hair or how much Harun guarded his door, they were still demons. Their moral compass was forged in a realm where the weak were currency.
Such a disgusting thing, Zaliyah wrote, his hand shaking so hard the charcoal snapped. How shallow is Xulthas to allow this?
He felt a sudden, burning rage. These were kids. Demon or not, they were children.
Where is Xulthas? he wrote. I would like a word with him.
"The Commander is not open to visitors," Thalassa said, her voice sharpening. "Whatever grievance you have, you report it to me."
Zaliyah didn't wait to hear more. The excitement of the baby clothes had turned to ash in his mouth. He turned and swept out of the hall, ignoring the twins' calls of "Are you okay, Your Highness?"
He was in a den of cold-hearted monsters.
A week passed in a freezing silence. Zaliyah locked himself in his chambers. Every morning, the twins knocked. Every morning, the maids gave them the same cold line: "His Highness is not receiving visitors."
Since when had they become "visitors"? For Iruna, the rejection was a slow death. She had become so attached to Zaliyah that his silence felt like a physical starvation. Her performance in training plummeted; she moved like a ghost, her eyes perpetually red.
Harun watched his sister break, and a dark "unpleasant sentiment" began to take root in his heart. He didn't understand why Zaliyah was punishing them for the laws of a land they didn't even rule. He began to resent the boy they had sacrificed everything to protect.
Inside the room, Zaliyah missed them. He missed the crackle of the fire and the rhythmic pull of the brush through his hair. But every time he thought of opening the door, he thought of the "Auction" and felt sick.
Finally, the physician arrived for a check-up. After a brief examination of the scarred cords, the man nodded. "Your voice is perfect now. Just do not scream too loudly."
But Zaliyah didn't even plan on screaming. He planned on confronting.
He dressed in his finest silks and heavy furs, his face set in a mask of regal fury. He stomped toward Xulthas's private chambers, shoving past the terrified maids who tried to stop him. He burst through the double doors just as a man stepped out of a steaming bathhouse.
Xulthas was clad only in light, wet trousers that clung to his muscular thighs. His long black hair was sleeping against his back, water from the hair dripping onto the floor.
He was pale, with striking green eyes and a scar across the bridge of his nose. He was undeniably handsome , but he lacked the overwhelming terror of Malachi.
Xulthas grinned, sitting in a velvet chair and crossing his wet legs. "Are you here to seduce me?"
Zaliyah rolled his eyes, his voice finally finding its strength. "Arrogant warlocks aren not my type".
"Good," Xulthas chuckled. "Pregnant men aren't mine, either."
"I am here about the Auction Market," Zaliyah snapped. "It is an abomination. I want it abolished. Immediately."
Xulthas leaned back, a look of genuine amusement playing on his face. The sheer audacity of this "pet" telling him how to run his ancestral lands was palpable. "I am not Malachi, little Celestial. I do not act on your whims, and I certainly do not take orders from a boy who can barely walk across a room without falling."
"You're right," Zaliyah spat. "Even Malachi wouldn't let something so barbaric happen under his nose."
Xulthas's grin turned sharp. His eyes flickered to the claw marks on Zaliyah's neck. Malachi wouldn't do this? he thought. The man literally dropped you from the sky to see if you'd bounce.
"No doubt you are the commander of this wasteland," Zaliyah continued, his voice rising. "Only a man as hollow as this ice is fitted to rule it."
"And only a man as weak as you is fitted to be Malachi's little boy-toy," Xulthas countered.
Enraged, Zaliyah lunged forward, his hand raised to slap the smirk off the warlock's face. But his hand froze in the air. He couldn't move a muscle.
He had forgotten Xulthas was an extraordinary warlock, ofcouse he had powers!.
Xulthas flicked his fingers, and the doors burst open. The maids rushed in.
"Do not let me see you again," Xulthas said, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper.
Zaliyah laughed in his face, even as the maids began to pull him away. "This isn't finished! You hear me ?" he yelled as the doors slammed shut.
Zaliyah returned to the dining hall, his heart racing with adrenaline and fury. He sat alone, eating greedily as the sun began to set. He had made up his mind to reconcile with the twins tonight. He realized now that punishing them for Xulthas's cruelty was wrong.
He waited. One hour. Two. The familiar knock never came.
He sent a maid to summon them, but she returned trembling. "The twins are with the Commander's troops. It is the day of the Snow Monsters, Your Highness."
Later that night, a maid whispered a rumor she'd heard from the guards: "The snowstorm turned into a blizzard. The Commander and the elite troops are trapped in a mountain cave. They say the Snow Monsters have surrounded them."
Zaliyah's heart sank. Disgust or not, those were his friends. His family. He couldn't let them die in the dark while he sat in a warm castle.
He stood up, his fur coat sweeping the floor. "Get the carriage ready."
The maids tried to stop him. The guards at the gate refused to move. "The deputy commander gave strict orders. You are not to leave."
Zaliyah stepped forward, his eyes flashing with the cold light of a King's Consort. "I am the Imperial Noble Consort. If you do not move, I will see to it that your blood stains this snow before the moon rises. NOW MOVE!"
For the first time, he felt the weight of his title. It wasn't just a label Malachi had given him for fancy, it was indeed a weapon.
The guards, terrified by the sudden authority in his voice, stepped aside.
The carriage moved into the white void, heading toward the treacherous peaks of the mountain .
Zaliyah sat inside, clutching his stomach as the freezing wind howled outside. He was going into the heart of the storm.