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VAEL

T he palatial guest chamber assigned to me outshines most royal quarters back on Ikoth—all gleaming obsidian surfaces and plush crimson furnishings.

Typical of Asmodeus to showcase his wealth through such ostentatious display.

I toss my weapons bag onto the oversized bed, the mattress barely yielding under its weight.

"Ridiculous," I mutter, running a hand over the silken coverlet. "Who needs this many pillows?"

A copper bathing pool, steaming and fragrant with oils I don't recognize, dominates the far corner of the room.

After a moment's hesitation, I strip and sink into the hot water, letting it ease the tension from muscles always primed for combat.

The warmth penetrates deep, reminding me how long it's been since I've allowed myself simple comforts.

My fingers trace the prominent scars decorating my ash-gray skin—each one a lesson, a memory, a job completed. The largest, a jagged line running from my collarbone to my sternum, throbs slightly at the touch. A gift from an Unseelie fae who nearly ended my career before it properly began.

"That one taught you to watch your blind spots," I remind myself, the words echoing in the cavernous bathroom.

After scrubbing away the grime of Ti'lith's streets, I examine the clothing options laid out for me.

Someone—presumably on Asmodeus's orders—has provided formal attire: midnight-black pants tailored to accommodate a demon's powerful build, a deep crimson tunic embroidered with subtle gold thread, and a fitted black jacket with sharp shoulders that emphasize my height and build.

I dress methodically, movements economical. The outfit fits perfectly, which means Asmodeus has been planning this longer than he let on. Typical royal manipulation.

As I secure my smallest blade in a concealed sheath at my lower back, I catch my reflection in the polished wall.

Without the usual leather and visible weaponry, I look almost..

. respectable. My horns curl upward from my temples in elegant arcs—a sign of good breeding that my mother never tires of pointing out.

My red-gold eyes appear more gold than red in this light, their vertical slits narrowing as I scrutinize myself.

"Remember," I tell my reflection, "observe, endure, exit. No entanglements."

The grand ballroom pulses with energy when I arrive. Demons of various ranks mingle beneath floating orbs of crimson light, creating an atmosphere both elegant and sinister. Music flows from an unseen source, a hypnotic blend of strings and percussion that sets my teeth on edge.

I skirt the perimeter, avoiding eye contact with several demons I recognize from previous jobs.

A server passes with a tray of drinks, and I snag a goblet of Amerinth—its purple depths promising sweet oblivion if consumed in sufficient quantity.

The first sip burns deliciously down my throat, releasing its characteristic fire in my chest.

"Vaelrix! I didn't expect to see you here."

I suppress a groan as Thaxilius approaches, a minor noble whose cousin I once tracked across three continents for skimming funds from King Vag'thimon's treasury.

"Thax," I acknowledge with a nod, taking another deliberate sip of my drink.

"Still the life of the party, I see." He chuckles, unfazed by my coldness. "Heard you bagged Nev'rozik. Clean job?"

"Always is."

"That's why you're the best." He raises his own goblet in salute. "My cousin still walks with a limp, by the way. Says the weather in his left knee predicts storms now."

I shrug, unapologetic. "He's lucky to have knees at all."

Thaxilius laughs too loudly, drawing attention I don't want.

I use the moment to scan the room more thoroughly, noting the presence of humans among the demon guests.

Unlike on Aerasak, where humans at least maintain some semblance of freedom, these women are clearly possessions—adorned with jeweled collars and chains that connect to the wrists of their demon masters.

Their eyes remain downcast, movements restricted to serving or entertaining.

"Not your style?" Thaxilius follows my gaze to a particularly young human being paraded past us.

"I have no interest in creatures that can't defend themselves," I reply, draining my goblet and immediately replacing it with another from a passing tray.

"That's the point, though, isn't it?" He leers. "Complete control. They're so... pliable."

My lip curls involuntarily. "Sounds boring."

A commotion near the main entrance draws our attention. Asmodeus and his mate make their grand entrance, his arm protectively—possessively—around her waist. For all his power and intimidating presence, the Hooded King looks at his human mate like she holds the secrets of the universe.

"Never understood that match," Thaxilius mutters. "Sure, humans are fine for entertainment, but to elevate one to queen?"

I remain silent, watching as the royal couple moves through the crowd. There's something in their interaction—a genuine connection—that makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. Not envy, surely. Just... recognition of something I've never experienced.

Suddenly, a ripple disrupts the practiced elegance of the gathering. My attention shifts instinctively toward the source—a human woman I hadn't noticed before, entering the ballroom on the arm of Captain Drez'kor.

She stands out among the other humans like a flame in darkness.

While the rest shrink into themselves, she holds her head high, her long brown waves cascading down her back, catching the crimson light in auburn highlights.

Unlike the others in their deliberately revealing attire, she wears a simple emerald dress that conceals more than it shows, yet somehow accentuates every curve.

"Who is that?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

Thaxilius follows my gaze and his mouth curls into a knowing smirk. "Ah, the infamous Trinity."

"Trinity," I repeat. The name feels strangely significant on my tongue.

"One of the Protheka girls. Plucked from some forgettable human village about a year or so ago." He takes a long sip of his Amerinth. "She's been climbing her way through the ranks quite efficiently."

I watch as she navigates the room, her movements fluid and deliberate. "Meaning?"

"Meaning she started in the dungeons with the rest of the breeding stock, but hasn't spent a night there in months.

" He leans in conspiratorially. "She's slept her way into better accommodations, better treatment.

Started with the guards, moved up to lieutenants, now she's with Drez'kor.

Next stop, probably someone in the royal court. "

I bristle at his tone. "You sound impressed."

"Not judging. She's survived. And I hear she's very good at what she does." He winks crudely. "Very attentive to a demon's... specific needs."

I want to look away from her but find it impossible.

There's something calculating in how she scans the room, something strategic in her movements.

When Drez'kor pulls her to the dance floor, she transforms—body languid, smile bright, every inch the captivating companion.

But when his attention drifts to speak with another demon, I catch a flash of something else—a hardness, a wariness.

Our eyes lock across the room.

She falters mid-step, her carefully constructed expression slipping for just a moment. I feel a strange pull, like gravity shifting toward her. She looks away quickly, laughing at something Drez'kor says, but her gaze finds its way back to me moments later.

This happens several times—our eyes meeting, hers darting away, only to return. Each time, the connection feels more electric than before. I realize I've been staring without pretense, my goblet halfway to my lips for what must be minutes.

"She's noticed you," Thaxilius chuckles. "Better be careful. You might be her next target."

I ignore him, watching as Trinity whispers something in Drez'kor's ear. He nods, releasing her waist, and she glides across the floor with purpose—directly toward me.

Her approach is like watching a storm gather. The closer she gets, the more I notice—the controlled rise and fall of her chest, the slight tension in her jaw, the way her soft green eyes have hardened to emeralds.

And I find myself getting excited, ready to face her. I've never cared about anyone before but with her…

There is something different about her.