Ivy's Cottage That Night
Ivy felt nothing but warmth,an unfamiliar warmth that came from within, yet brought no comfort. She paced the length of her small room, her heart restless, her mind clouded with unease.
Something was wrong.
She didn't know what, couldn't explain it, but the feeling was relentless. A hollow ache sat in her chest, growing heavier by the second.
With a sigh, she sat on the edge of her bed, gripping the fabric of her nightdress tightly.
"Kael…" she whispered into the silence.
She missed him. More than usual. It was a deep, gnawing longing, like a piece of her had been ripped away.
Her eyes flickered to the folded tunic sitting on a nearby chair. It was his left behind from one his visits, the scent of him still clinging to the fabric. Without thinking, she reached for it, pulling it close, pressing her face into the cloth as if it could bridge the unbearable distance between them.
The moment she did, her chest clenched painfully. A wave of emotions fear, sadness, desperation crashed over her. Her fingers trembled as she tightened her hold on the tunic.
"Why do I feel like this?" she murmured, her voice unsteady.
Her breath hitched. "Kael… where are you?"
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She lay down, curling around the tunic, inhaling his scent like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Her heart pounded erratically, her mind refusing to rest. The feeling of dread wouldn't fade. She shifted, turned, clutched at the blanket, but it didn't help.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Maybe more.
At last, exhaustion won. Her grip on the tunic loosened slightly, her breathing slowed, and she drifted into uneasy sleep.
---
The Palace, Morning
A dull ache pounded in Kael's head as he stirred awake, his body heavier than usual. The soft silk sheets tangled around him, and warmth pressed against his side.
Something was wrong.
His golden-brown eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the grand chamber's curtains. The scent of lavender and embers lingered in the air. His arm was draped over something,someone.
His entire body tensed as his gaze fell on Lucianna.
She lay nestled against him, her bare skin partially covered by the sheets, her auburn hair spilling over the pillow. Peaceful.
Kael's breath hitched. His mind reeled, piecing together fragments of the previous night: entering the chamber, feeling strangely lightheaded, Lucianna's voice, the way his body had acted on its own…
No.
His heart pounded as he carefully pulled his arm away, sitting up. His tunic was gone. His head still swam, but one thing was clear something had happened.
His voice was hoarse. "Lucianna."
She stirred, blinking sleepily before a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. "You're awake."
Kael's fingers curled into the sheets. "What happened?"
Her smile faltered slightly. "Kael, you…" She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. "We… spent the night together."
A cold wave of realization crashed over him. His breathing grew uneven. He searched his mind, trying to recall the exact moment he'd lost control, but it was hazy… too hazy.
Something wasn't right.
Kael's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Did I do this willingly?"
Lucianna flinched at the sharpness in his tone. "You drank a lot, Kael. I tried to tell you to stop, but…" She lowered her gaze. "You wanted me."
His chest tightened. "I would have never…" He stopped himself, inhaling sharply. His father. The wedding. The toasts. The drink.
His gaze darkened. "Was I drugged?"
Lucianna's eyes widened. "Kael, no! I would never…"
"Then how," his voice was low, almost a growl, "did this happen?"
Silence stretched between them.
Kael ran a hand through his hair, barely suppressing the fury and confusion boiling within him. He needed answers. Now.
He swung his legs over the bed, grabbing his discarded clothes. The moment his feet touched the cold floor, a bitter truth settled in his chest.
He had betrayed Ivy. Even if it hadn't been by choice.
And nothing could change that.
.
.
.
The Palace Kitchen
The palace kitchen was a flurry of activity pots clanged, fire crackled, and the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air.
"I swear on my best apron," Elira whispered, wide-eyed, "when the prince walked down the aisle, he looked like he was being dragged to his execution."
Mira snorted as she kneaded dough. "Execution? More like he was trying to remember if he signed his own death warrant!"
"Maybe he did and just forgot," chimed in Sera, tossing flour onto the table. "You know men. Never reading the fine print."
The group burst into laughter.
"I feel bad for Lucianna," Lyra, the eldest maid, muttered, though a mischievous smile played on her lips. "She's glowing like the sun, and meanwhile, the prince looks like he swallowed a lemon."
Elira wiped fake tears from her eyes. "Ah, young love. One side madly in love, the other side madly plotting his escape."
"Do you think he'll run away?" Sera gasped dramatically, clutching a wooden spoon like it was a royal decree.
Mira shook her head. "No, he's too noble for that. But I bet you he's already planning an extended mission far, far away from the palace."
Elira nudged Sera. "If he needs a getaway horse, I say we leave one saddled and ready outside his window."
More giggles erupted, barely stifled as another maid, carrying a tray of steaming pastries, leaned in. "Forget the horse. I say we slip a sleeping potion in Lucianna's tea and let the prince sneak off in the night."
They all gasped before laughing even harder.
"You're all terrible," Lyra scolded, but she was grinning. "Now, unless we want to end up on dish duty for the next year, we'd best get back to work before the head chef..."
"Hey! Quit yapping and get those loaves in the oven before I turn you all into kitchen scraps!" the head chef's booming voice rang out.
The maids jumped back to their tasks, barely suppressing their giggles as they worked, their chatter softer but no less mischievous.
---
The Throne Room
Kael stormed through the palace halls, his rage barely contained beneath the surface. Servants quickly stepped out of his way, sensing the fury radiating from him. The memory of waking up beside Lucianna clawed at him like a relentless shadow.
He needed answers.
Reaching the grand throne room, he didn't wait to be announced. He shoved open the towering doors, the heavy wood slamming against the stone walls. The guards flinched but did not stop him. They knew better.
King Malakar sat upon his obsidian throne, adorned in dark robes lined with gold. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched his son's entrance. Beside him, Lysara stood silent, her gaze unreadable.
Kael stopped before the throne, chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury. "What did you do?"
Malakar raised a brow. "You'll have to be more specific, son."
Kael's fists clenched. "The wine. The feast. I was drugged, wasn't I?"
A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the Demon King's lips. "And why would I need to drug my own son on the night of his wedding?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Because you knew I wouldn't touch her otherwise."
Malakar chuckled, the sound low and cold. "You give me far too much credit, Kael. You drank, you indulged, and you did what a husband is expected to do. There is no crime in that."
Kael took a step forward, voice dark with warning. "I will not be made a pawn in your games."
Malakar leaned forward, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "And yet, here you are,my dutiful son, married to a noble demoness, ensuring the strength of our bloodline."
Kael's stomach twisted. He wanted to rip that smug expression off his father's face. But he knew Malakar too well. He would never admit to anything outright.
Lysara, who had been silent until now, spoke softly, "Kael…" Her voice held something he couldn't place guilt? Worry?
He turned to her, searching her face for any sign that she had known. But she only looked away.
Malakar sighed, reclining back into his throne. "It's done. You are wed. Whatever happened last night cannot be undone. I suggest you embrace it, rather than wasting your time seeking blame where there is none."
Kael's hands trembled at his sides, rage burning through his veins. He wanted to fight back, to rip through the facade his father had built, but the damage was already done.
Malakar had won.
For now.
Kael turned on his heel and stormed out of the throne room. But one thing was certain,this was far from over.
Outside the Throne Room
Kael stormed down the corridor, his head throbbing with rage and frustration. His father's smug face still burned in his mind, the way he had dismissed Kael's accusations like they were nothing.
As he marched forward, barely seeing where he was going, something or rather, someone slammed into him with full force.
THUD!