A Heart Disguised 1 (The Demon Lords of Aethoria)

2. Robin

2

Robin

T he grand drawing room greeted us with an air of suffocating opulence, a gilded cage in which the Aldercrest dynasty preened and prospered. My father sat in his favored throne-like chair, dominating the space with the effortless command of a born ruler. Lord Aldercrest was a lion in repose, dark hair threaded with silver—nature’s attempt at gilding what was already formidable. His eyes, as sharp and cold as Aethoria’s winter skies, swept over us with a detached indifference that chilled the room more effectively than any draft from the enormous fireplace.

Beside him, Lady Aldercrest reclined on the velvet settee, the very picture of noble elegance, though her lips were thinned with displeasure—a common expression on her face whenever the business of the family was brought into the open. Her hair, a cascade of honeyed gold, was coiled into an intricate chignon, and her dress was a tapestry of wealth and taste. The emerald silk draped over her figure complemented her brown eyes, making them appear almost amber in the firelight.

“Sit,” Lord Aldercrest commanded, though his gaze did not stray to me. He might as well have addressed the air, for all the acknowledgment I received in that moment. I remained standing, a silent reminder of my precarious place within the family structure.

Heart thudding against my ribs, I braced myself for whatever bombshell was about to rend the fabric of our carefully orchestrated lives. The silence stretched thin, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire.

Then the axe fell.

“We have received a missive,” my father began, each word measured and precise—the calm before the tempest. “From Azrael.” The way he said the name spoke volumes of his contempt, as if speaking it dirtied his tongue. “The heartless bastard has decreed that I am to offer one of my daughters to that wicked demon lord, Duke of Lunaria.”

A sharp, collective intake of breath echoed through the room, the sound almost foreign to my ears, like the discordant chime of a cracked bell. My own breath caught in my throat, the walls of the room closing in with sudden, crushing finality.

My mind reeled, recalling all the terrifying whispers I’d heard about Duke Lunaria. He was one of King Azrael’s most feared generals, a demon who had helped conquer our nation. Now, he ruled over a newly created region that encompassed five counties, including our own Aldercrest.

Meredith’s hushed tales came flooding back to me—stories she’d gleaned from her forays into town and gossip with other servants. Duke Lunaria was said to be a monstrous demon, towering over mortal men, with a heart as cold as the deepest winter. Rumors spoke of his merciless nature, how he’d slaughter entire villages without a second thought. The castle where he now resided in Lunaria was said to be a place of such terror that young women servants fled in droves, seeking work elsewhere to escape his cruel gaze.

Some even whispered that he could read minds with a mere touch, using the information to manipulate and destroy his enemies. Others claimed that his very presence could wither crops and curdle milk. The more outlandish rumors suggested he bathed in the blood of virgins to maintain his immortality or that he could transform into a great winged beast at will.

As these thoughts raced through my mind, Rosalind, fierce as a summer storm, protested vehemently, her voice steady despite the tremor I knew she must have been feeling. “But, Father, I am fifteen, and Lily is merely fourteen! We are both too young and still in school.”

Gavin’s lip curled in scorn. “Those bastard demons care naught for our laws and customs,” he growled, his eyes aflame with the bitter gall of defeat. “Why should they start now?”

Lily, my sweet, soft-spoken Lily, crumpled beneath the weight of our new reality. Her sobs were as sharp as glass shards scattered across the marble floor. My heart cracked wide-open at the sound. I yearned to cross the room, to pull her into my arms and shield her from this waking nightmare. Yet I stood rooted, paralyzed by the icy disdain of our parents. Even as Rosalind attempted to comfort Lily, a futile gesture against the tide of despair, I remained bound by the invisible chains that held me apart from them all.

Then Lady Aldercrest, cool and unyielding, snapped at Lily’s distress. “For heaven’s sake, child, show some backbone! Do not shame this family further with your weakness.” Her words were a lash across Lily’s vulnerable spirit, eliciting a fresh torrent of tears.

I couldn’t help but wonder how could we possibly survive this nightmare. And more pressingly, which of my beloved sisters would be sacrificed to the terrifying demon lord who now held our fates in his clawed hands?

My heart, already a frantic drumbeat against my ribs, threatened to burst free as Lord Aldercrest’s gaze finally landed on me. It was a look that pierced through the facade I’d so carefully cultivated, a look that saw me for the first time in my life. My knees threatened to buckle under the weight of that unwanted attention, the air growing thin and suffocating.

The room fell silent once more, every eye turning to me with an almost comical swiftness. Even Lady Aldercrest, whose gaze was usually as warm as frostbite, regarded me with a flicker of curiosity. Henry’s sneer faltered, and Gavin’s brow creased in confusion, while Rosalind and Lily wore matching expressions of bewilderment that tugged at my heart.

“Robin,” my father said, my name a strange, foreign sound on his lips. “You will go in your sisters’ place as the duke’s… betrothed.”

For a moment, the world tilted on its axis, throwing my senses into disarray. I blinked, certain I’d misheard. Had the weight of the situation driven my father to madness? Rosalind, ever the fiery defender, was quick to voice the absurdity of his words.

“But Father, Robin is a boy—he cannot possibly be the duke’s bride!” Her protest was met with a cold, hard stare from Father.

Lord Aldercrest’s voice cut through the room like a blade of ice. “These demons spit upon our customs, our very way of life,” he growled, his words dripping with contempt. “Why, then, should we honor theirs?” His eyes swept across the room before settling on me again. “The contract stands. Robin shall be the duke’s bride, and that’s the end of it.”

The drawing room exploded into a storm of shocked exclamations and hissed whispers, but all I could hear was the thundering pulse of my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. My lips parted, though no sound emerged. I was a rabbit caught in the hawk’s deadly gaze, paralyzed and helpless.

Lord Aldercrest waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “Pack your things. The duke’s escort will be here within the week. You have much to prepare for.” His voice was a distant echo, fading in and out of my consciousness. Then his tone sharpened, “You are to disguise yourself as a young woman. Never reveal that you’re a boy. If you run, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous. I knew all too well the ruthlessness that lurked behind my father’s eyes—a man who would not hesitate to spill his own blood to protect his interests.

He continued, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. “If the duke were to discover your true identity, he would slaughter us all to set an example. Do you understand the gravity of your role in this, boy?”

I nodded mutely, my throat constricting with fear.

“You are dismissed,” he finished, turning away as if I had already ceased to exist.

Gavin smirked, cruel and mocking. “Off you go, little changeling,” he taunted with glee that made me wonder if demons were truly the most heartless creatures to walk Celesterra. “No use lingering here when you’re not needed anymore.”

Lily’s sobs grew louder, and she flung herself into my arms. Her tears soaked through the fine fabric of my shirt, a scalding reminder of the cost of my father’s ruthless pragmatism. Rosalind’s eyes blazed with defiance as she fixed our father with a glare sharp enough to cut diamond.

“You’re heartless,” she hissed, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “You can’t do this to Robin!”

Lady Aldercrest’s response was swift and brutal. “And would you rather take his place, Rosalind? I doubt you’d last a night with that demon as his bride. They say his appetites are… insatiable.”

Her words unleashed a torrent of memories—hushed whispers and wild tales about the Duke of Lunaria. Meredith’s stories, each more terrifying than the last, echoed in my mind. They said any woman who shared his bed was fortunate to walk again, and some never did. The more salacious gossip painted a picture of his… endowments so grotesque it would make even the most battle-hardened soldier weep.

“I’ve heard his… weapon is the size of a broadsword,” Henry muttered, his face a mix of awe and disgust. “They say he once split a man in two with it.”

Gavin snorted. “Poppycock. It’s clearly the size of a battering ram. How else could he breach so many fortresses?”

“And they say his skin burns like hellfire,” added Henry, warming to the subject. “One touch and you’re marked for life.”

“I heard he can transform into a great beast at will,” Gavin chimed in, his eyes glinting with malicious glee. “Imagine that in the bedchamber!”

Their crude jests, far from easing the tension, painted an ever more horrifying picture of what awaited me. The blood drained from my face, leaving me lightheaded and weak-kneed.

“And let’s not forget,” Henry continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “they say he can smell fear… and virginity. Gods help you if you’re both afraid and pure.”

Lady Aldercrest turned to me, her eyes as cold and unforgiving as a midwinter frost. “High time you earned your keep, boy. We’ve let you live like a prince while other bastards scrape by in the gutters. Be grateful for this chance to serve your betters, and perhaps the demon lord will find some use for you beyond his bed.”

Her words struck me like physical blows, each one chipping away at what little resolve I had left. I stood there, trembling like a leaf in a gale, as the full weight of my fate crashed down upon me.

I gently extricated myself from Lily’s embrace, my mind a whirlwind of panic and disbelief. As I turned to leave, my gaze lingered on my sisters—Rosalind, fierce and indignant, and Lily, sweet and devastated. I wanted to tell them it would be alright, that I would find a way out of this madness, but the words died on my tongue.

With a heavy heart, I left the room, the weight of my impending doom settling upon my shoulders, a grim reminder that my life was no longer my own.

T he days following my father’s decree passed in a haze of disbelief and dread, punctuated by Meredith’s near-constant wailing. My dear nursemaid had become a veritable fountain of tears, each day bringing forth a new deluge of sorrow and increasingly outlandish tales of horror from the market square.

“Oh, Master Robin,” she howled one morning, her face resembling a rather soggy tomato, “they say the Duke of Lunaria has eyes that glow red in the dark, like a demon fresh from the bowels of Infernum! And his… his manhood! They say ’tis forked like a serpent’s tongue and as long as your arm!”

I suppressed a shudder, my mind conjuring images as ridiculous as they were terrifying. “How delightful,” I muttered. “Perhaps he can use it to stir his tea.”

Meredith, oblivious to my sarcasm, plowed on. “He has a voracious hunger for human flesh, my dear! Some say he keeps a larder full of preserved corpses for when the fancy strikes him!”

“Well, at least I won’t have to worry about cooking,” I quipped, though my attempt at humor fell flat in the face of her genuine distress.

Every so often, Meredith would burst into the parlor, her eyes red-rimmed and cheeks streaked with salt, spouting the most outlandish escape plans. These sudden intrusions often caught me mid-sulk or with my nose buried in a book, vainly attempting to distract myself from my impending nuptials.

One morning, she burst in wielding a wooden spoon like a scepter, a half-stirred pot of porridge still steaming in her other hand. “We’ll dress you as a traveling minstrel,” she blurted, “and you’ll sing your way to freedom!”

The idea would’ve been amusing if not for the dire circumstances. “And what shall I sing? Ballads of my woeful escape from a demon’s clutches?”

She ignored my jest, continuing with an even wilder scheme the next day. This time, she appeared with a basket of laundry balanced precariously on her hip, a pair of my undergarments dangling from her fingertips. “We’ll join a circus! They’re always looking for folk with… unique talents.”

I raised an eyebrow, hastily plucking my unmentionables from her grasp. “Unique indeed. Perhaps I could be billed as The Boy Bride Who Escaped the Demon Duke .”

Her sobbing renewed with every return from town, her basket of groceries accompanied by ever more grotesque rumors about the duke. Once, she nearly upended a sack of potatoes in her haste to share the latest gossip.

“They say his shadow alone can strangle a man!” she gasped between sobs one afternoon, frantically peeling an onion as if it had personally offended her.

“Convenient,” I quipped dryly, though a tremor ran through me. “I’ll be sure to keep the curtains drawn.”

“And that he beds his victims on a pile of bones—the remnants of his conquests!” This revelation came as she aggressively kneaded dough, flour clouding the air like a portent of doom.

I grimaced at the thought. “One can only hope they’re properly dusted. Wouldn’t want to sneeze at an inopportune moment.”

Her next tale was more harrowing still, delivered as she vigorously beat a rug outside my window. “In the throes of passion, he transforms into a creature so hideous, so vile that—”

“I get the picture, Meredith,” I cut in before my imagination could conjure anything more disturbing, ducking to avoid a cloud of dust. “Perhaps I’ll simply keep my eyes closed and think of Aethoria.”

Russet, sensing my unease, stayed close, his warm fur a small comfort. His gaze often met mine as if to offer silent support, nuzzling against me when my anxiety peaked. Yet even his steadfast presence couldn’t fully quell the knot coiling in my stomach as our departure loomed closer.

“At least you won’t have to worry about being served for dinner,” I told him, scratching behind his ears. “Though I can’t say the same for myself.”

I sulked through those days, though resignation slowly gave way to determination. My sisters’ welfare was my anchor; I wouldn’t let them suffer on my account. Russet’s unwavering companionship, while not enough to calm my frayed nerves entirely, reminded me that I wasn’t entirely alone in this ordeal.

My sisters’ visits were bittersweet, their tearful embraces leaving damp patches on my shirtsleeves. Lily, with her innocent eyes brimming with tears, clung to me as if she could keep me tethered to our world. “Promise you’ll write,” she sniffled into my shoulder.

“Of course,” I assured her, not mentioning that I wasn’t entirely sure the duke’s castle had a functioning postal service. For all I knew, they used bats or other hellish creatures to deliver messages.

Rosalind, ever the fiery protector, would often sit in stoic silence, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and determination. At times, her passionate nature would burst forth, and she’d vow to set the world ablaze if any harm came to me. “I’ll storm the castle myself if I have to,” she declared.

“And what will you do when you get there?” I asked, amused despite myself. “Challenge the duke to a duel?”

“If I must,” she replied, her chin jutting out defiantly.

We spoke little of what awaited me in Lunaria; instead, we cherished our remaining time together, each moment etching itself into my memory as a precious treasure to carry with me into an uncertain future.

Henry and Gavin’s visits were less comforting, their cruel jests and lewd remarks only adding to my trepidation as they sauntered by to gloat under the guise of brotherly concern.

“Better keep your legs closed tight, little brother,” Henry would sneer. “Or you might just lose more than your virtue to that demon duke!”

“Unless you’re planning on using that forked tongue of yours,” Gavin would add with a barking laugh. “Might be the only way to tame his… broadsword.”

“Hope you’re ready for your wedding night,” Gavin sneered one afternoon. “A monster like him… You’re a perfect match. I wonder if you’ll even be able to walk afterward.”

Henry snickered beside him. “Just be careful with your… backside. They say he’s hung like a stallion. You might not leave the bed for days.”

Their crude innuendo confused me more than it offended; I knew little of such intimacies between men. “I’m sure I’ll manage,” I retorted, though my voice lacked conviction. “Perhaps I’ll develop a sudden and severe case of lockjaw.”

“Oh, he’ll find other uses for you,” Gavin leered. “I hear demons have quite the appetite. You might be too sore to sit, let alone walk.”

“And don’t worry about passing as a girl,” Henry added with a smirk. “You already look like one. Though I doubt the duke will care either way when he’s… sheathing his weapon.”

Their laughter grated on me like nails on slate as they departed, leaving me to stew in confusion and dread, pondering the mysteries of the flesh in ways that both bewildered and frightened me. What on earth did they mean by sheathing his weapon ? And why would I be sore? The more they spoke, the less I understood and the more my anxiety grew.

When the Lunarians arrived, their presence announced by the thunderous clatter of hooves on the cobblestone drive, I peered out from behind partially closed shutters, my heart pounding so fiercely I feared it might burst from my chest. The sight before me was enough to make even the bravest man’s blood run cold, and here I was, a mere slip of a boy, barely a man, tasked with facing these monsters and their master.

The demon soldiers were a terrifying sight to behold, towering over their human counterparts like great, shadowy monoliths. Their skin ranged from deepest obsidian to the pale gray of storm clouds, and some bore horns that twisted like the branches of ancient oaks. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly light that seemed to pierce right through me, even from a distance. Their armor, black as night, seemed to drink in the sunlight, casting them in an eerie, shadowy aura.

“Sweet Aethoria, protect us,” Meredith whimpered beside me, her trembling hands clutching her prayer beads so tightly I feared they might snap. She began to chant, her voice a barely audible whisper of protection and deliverance.

I knew these were merely the lower-ranked soldiers, not the duke himself or his high-ranking officers. Yet if these were the underlings, what terrors awaited me in the form of their master? The rumors Meredith had shared suddenly seemed less outlandish and more like horrifying possibilities.

“Well,” I muttered to Russet, who pressed close to my side, his warm fur a small comfort against the chill of fear, “at least I won’t have to worry about standing out in a crowd. I’ll be the one without horns and glowing eyes.”

The human soldiers appeared almost boyish beside their demonic counterparts, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and awe that did nothing to calm my racing thoughts. As I watched the imposing figures, my fate seemed to solidify before me. The time of my departure was drawing near, and with it, the beginning of a life I could scarcely imagine.

I clutched Russet close, drawing what little courage I could from his steadfast presence. “At least you’ll still love me,” I whispered into his fur, “even if I come back with horns and a forked tongue.”

That night, and for many nights after, my dreams were plagued by visions of glowing eyes and twisted horns, of shadowy figures with forked tongues and insatiable appetites. I’d wake in a cold sweat, Meredith’s tales of the duke’s monstrous nature blending with my brothers’ crude innuendos to weave a nightmare in my mind.

The future loomed before me, dark and uncertain, but I was determined to face it with whatever wit and courage I could muster. After all, I reasoned in my more lucid moments, if I could survive years of Henry and Gavin’s torment, surely I could handle one demon duke. Couldn’t I? Yet as I gazed out at the fearsome soldiers, their very presence an omen of what awaited me, I couldn’t quite convince myself of that bravado.