A Heart Disguised 1 (The Demon Lords of Aethoria)

4. Robin

4

Robin

A s Meredith laced up the accursed corset, I could feel my ribs complaining with each tightened pull. My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the dressing table, my knuckles turning white. “Perhaps you’ve mistaken me for a wasp,” I quipped, my voice wavering as she gave one last yank. “I assure you, I’ve no need for a cinched waist to attract a mate.”

“Hush, dear,” Meredith admonished, though her voice wavered with emotion. “You look lovely. Like an angel.” Her eyes, red and puffy from days of weeping, belied her smile, and I knew her heart bled for me.

I turned back to the mirror, my breath catching in my throat as I was confronted by the image of Lady Robin Aldercrest—a specter of delicate beauty that bore my name but seemed to belong to another. The gown, one of Lily’s old ones that Lady Aldercrest had foisted upon me, was a mesmerizing creation: a fitted kirtle of sapphire silk embraced my torso, flowing into a full skirt adorned with intricate geometric embroidery in silver thread, while the overdress, crafted from diaphanous material, draped around my shoulders with wide, bell-shaped sleeves, its low, square neckline highlighting the porcelain pallor of my skin.

My hair, left unbound, cascaded down my back like a waterfall of moonlight, reaching past my waist in silken waves. The pale strands seemed to glow in the soft light filtering through the window, creating an almost otherworldly aura around me. The artfully applied cosmetics only enhanced my feminine allure—ruby-red lips, softly blushing cheeks, and thick, dark lashes framing my bright-green eyes, transforming me into a vision of delicate beauty.

As I gazed at my reflection, I couldn’t help but think I looked like one of the fair folk from the bedtime stories of my youth—ethereal and untouchable. The delicate features of my face, accentuated by the makeup and the simplicity of my unadorned hair, gave me an angelic appearance that was both beautiful and unsettling. I was the very picture of noble grace, a porcelain doll come to life, ready to be shipped off to a demon’s lair.

“Careful,” I said with a forced smile, “any tighter and I might shatter like porcelain.”

Meredith clicked her tongue, her hands shaking as she adjusted the skirts. “Hush now, Lady Robin. You need to look the part.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to mask the fear that threatened to overwhelm me. “I still don’t see why it couldn’t have been Lord Robin . At least then I could breathe.” My attempt at humor fell flat, the words catching in my throat.

Lily, her own eyes brimming with tears, flung her arms around me, her sobs muffled against my shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, Robin,” she whispered. “Like an avenging angel.”

I hugged her tightly, my own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Let’s hope I won’t need to do any avenging,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion.

Rosalind approached with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “Perhaps we could run away,” she suggested. “Find a ship to take us across the sea, to a land where demon dukes and their demands hold no sway.”

I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips even as my heart raced with fear. “And what would we do there? Become pirates and plunder the high seas?”

“Or we could set a fire… fake your death?” Rosalind added, her eyes alight with the spark of rebellion.

“And leave a trail of ash to our doorstep? You’ve been spending too much time with Meredith and her wild tales,” I retorted, though I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of longing for such a wild, untamed life—anything but the gilded cage that awaited me in Lunaria.

With our goodbyes said and our belongings packed, I stood at the threshold of the cottage, my legs feeling weak beneath the layers of silk and lace. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to summon the courage to step outside. Meredith, Russet, and Bernard followed, their faces etched with worry and sorrow.

As I finally stepped out, I felt as though I was walking to my own execution, each step bringing me closer to a future I could scarcely comprehend. The weight of my fate pressed down upon me, heavier than any gown or crown could ever be.

I stepped into the front courtyard, a flutter of nerves dancing in my stomach like a flock of sparrows in a gale. Meredith, Bernard, and Russet flanked me, their presence both a comfort and a reminder of the grim parade we were about to join.

Lord Aldercrest stood there, an impassive overseer ensuring I hadn’t fled at the last moment. His eyes swept the scene with the cold calculation of a man who had just brokered a lucrative deal, heedless of the fact that the commodity was his own flesh and blood. No sign of Lady Aldercrest—no surprise there. She wouldn’t deign to bid farewell to her husband’s inconvenient bastard. Rosalind and Lily were absent too, sequestered within the manor’s walls as if their mere presence might tempt these demons to spirit them away. According to Lady Aldercrest’s twisted reasoning—or perhaps her thinly veiled contempt—they were far too precious to risk in the company of such otherworldly beings, unlike their expendable half brother.

Before us, Lunaria’s forces stood arrayed like a living, breathing nightmare come to life. The human soldiers of Lunaria cut an imposing figure, their sleek black armor gleaming in the early morning light, each plate and curve a chilling embodiment of their realm’s martial prowess. They stood with the unwavering discipline of seasoned warriors, their eyes fixed ahead with a resolve that spoke of battles fought and horrors witnessed. The scars and dents in their armor told tales of service and sacrifice, worn with a grim pride that chilled me to my core.

But it was the demon soldiers who drew my gaze, their otherworldly presence an undeniable harbinger of the power that awaited me in Lunaria. They were a motley crew of nightmares brought to life, their forms as varied as the tales of terror whispered about their kind.

As I approached, I couldn’t help but marvel at their presence—their disciplined stillness that suggested coiled serpents ready to strike. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once, and I felt my pulse quicken as I took in the sheer magnitude of their presence.

A hulking demon knight stepped forward, his muscled form encased in armor that seemed to have been forged from the shadows themselves. His skin was a deep, burnished bronze, almost appearing to be made of living metal. His eyes glowed like molten gold, piercing through the morning fog with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

Lord Aldercrest introduced me with an air of finality that chilled my blood. “Lady Robin Aldercrest,” he declared, his voice devoid of warmth. “The duke’s bride.”

The demon knight bowed—a gesture both elegant and unnerving—and I swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat.

“I am Sir Calibor,” he rumbled, his voice like gravel rolling down a mountainside. “I shall ensure your safe passage to Lunaria.”

When he reached for my hand, I recoiled out of instinct, my eyes wide with alarm. His gaze held mine for a moment—piercing yet not unkind—and he seemed to understand my trepidation.

“Please,” Sir Calibor said with an unsettling gentleness as he gestured toward the carriage without touching me again.

The carriage was an opulent affair, its interior lined with velvet and adorned with silver filigree—a gilded cage fit for a lady, or perhaps a sacrificial lamb. With a heart threatening to pound its way out of my chest and legs that felt as unsteady as a newborn fawn’s, I let myself be ushered inside. Meredith and Bernard joined me, their presence a small comfort against the tide of uncertainty that threatened to swallow me whole. Russet leaped in beside me, his warm, solid body a reassuring presence at my side.

As the carriage lurched into motion, I pressed my face against the window glass, straining for one last glimpse of my sisters. But they were nowhere to be seen—only Lord Aldercrest’s retreating back as he vanished into the manor without a backward glance. The sight of him abandoning me so easily, as if I were nothing more than a pawn in his political game, sent a wave of hurt and anger through me.

Meredith’s hand found mine, her grip firm and reassuring. “At least it’s a five-day journey,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.

I nodded silently, unable to summon words or wit—a feather caught in the storm winds of fate. As the manor faded into the distance, I was left to wonder what trials lay ahead on the road to Lunaria, and whether I possessed the courage to face them. The weight of my family’s abandonment pressed heavily upon me, a constant reminder of how alone I truly was in this new, terrifying chapter of my life.

T he days blurred together in a relentless march toward my uncertain fate. The journey from Aldercrest to Lunaria stretched before me like an endless road, each mile of countryside passing my carriage window a stark reminder of the growing distance between me and the only home I’d ever known.

Within the confines of my gilded prison on wheels, I kept to myself, cloaked in silks and satins that seemed to mock my predicament with their soft caresses against my skin. I despised the dresses, how they constricted my movements like vines binding me to a fate I’d never chosen. But it was either the gowns or the unthinkable exposure of my secret, so I bore their embrace with gritted teeth.

When we made camp, I ventured out for walks to stretch legs grown stiff from too much sitting. Always careful, I kept my distance from the soldiers—both human and demon. Sir Calibor was a constant shadow, his assurances of safety both comforting and chilling.

“You are in good hands, Lady Robin,” he’d say with a grave nod. “Nothing will befall the duke’s bride on my watch.” Each time he uttered those words, cold dread settled in my stomach at the thought of the Duke of Lunaria.

The journey was punctuated by moments of absurd difficulty. Answering nature’s call became an exercise in stealth and acrobatics, as I attempted to maneuver the skirts and delicate slippers in the woods without alerting my ever-present guards. More than once, I caught Sir Calibor’s knowing gaze as I emerged from the trees, my face flushed with exertion and embarrassment.

Bathing was another ordeal entirely. Meredith would create diversions, engaging the soldiers in conversation while I slipped away to a nearby stream. Even then, I felt eyes upon me, as if the very trees were reporting back to my demonic escorts. The constant surveillance grated on my nerves, making me feel like a prized falcon, forever tethered and observed.

One late afternoon, as our party halted to make camp, I seized a rare opportunity for solitude. With Russet at my heels, I slipped away to a nearby river, the sound of rushing water masking our departure.

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and pink, casting shadows across the riverbank. I glanced around nervously, ensuring I was truly alone before beginning to undress. My fingers trembled as I unfastened the intricate clasps of my gown, letting the heavy fabric pool at my feet. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I stepped out of the confining garment.

“At least today I was spared that wretched corset,” I murmured to Russet, who cocked his head in response. “I swear my waist is becoming as narrow as a reed. Soon I’ll snap in two at the slightest breeze!”

Standing in nothing but my undergarments, I shivered as the cool breeze caressed my skin. I unbound my hair, letting it flow down my back. The pale strands seemed to glow in the fading light, reaching past my waist in silken waves.

I ran my fingers through my tresses, a mixture of defiance and melancholy washing over me. In Aethoria, it was customary for men to keep their hair short or, at most, shoulder-length. But I had let mine grow well past my waist, a silent rebellion against both convention and my father’s wishes.

Father barely acknowledged my existence, let alone my mother’s memory. But I had seen her portrait, hidden away in a corner of the cottage. Her moonlight-colored hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, so like my own.

So I grew it out, despite the merciless torments from Henry and Gavin and the disapproving looks from others. It was my way of keeping her memory alive, of reminding Father of what he chose to forget.

Now, as I prepared to leave everything familiar behind, it felt more precious than ever—a piece of her, and of myself, that I could carry always. Yet I couldn’t help but appreciate the bitter irony. The very feature I had cultivated as an act of defiance had become instrumental in my current masquerade. My long hair, once a symbol of rebellion, now made it all too easy to pass as a woman, trapping me in this unwanted charade.

Russet watched attentively from the shore as I waded into the river. I gasped at the shock of the cold water against my skin, but as I ventured deeper, I began to relish the sensation. For the first time in days, I felt… free.

I cupped my hands, bringing water to my face and letting it trickle down my neck and chest. The coolness was a balm to my travel-weary body. I began to relax, my muscles unknotting as I moved through the gentle current.

As I bathed, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed. It was a sensation I’d grown accustomed to during our journey, but here, in this secluded spot, it felt more intense than ever. I told myself it was merely my nerves, my constant state of anxiety playing tricks on my mind.

Suddenly, a commotion above caught my attention. A hawk swooped down, talons extended, attacking a smaller bird. The tiny creature fell, tumbling through the air before landing with a soft thud on the riverbank.

“Russet!” I called, rushing out of the water. Together, we hurried to where the small bird lay, its wings twitching feebly.

Kneeling beside it, I cupped my hands around its fragile form. The bird was unlike any I’d ever seen before. No larger than my palm, its feathers shimmered with an iridescent blue-green, reminiscent of peacock plumage. Its beak was delicate and slightly curved, and its eyes, when they fluttered open, were a startling gold.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated, calling upon the healing magic that flowed through my veins. A soft glow emanated from my palms, enveloping the injured bird. I felt the warmth of my magic coursing through me into the tiny creature. Moments later, the bird chirped, seemingly restored. Yet as I attempted to release it, it clung to my finger, showing no desire to fly away.

“Well,” I murmured, surprised, “I suppose you’d like to stay with us, little one?”

The bird chirped again in response, its golden eyes fixed on mine.

“Very well.” I smiled. “I shall call you Starling, for your resilience.”

As I dressed, wincing as I laced up the bodice of my gown, Starling perched contentedly on my shoulder. Its weight was barely noticeable, but its presence was oddly comforting.

Back in the carriage, with Russet at my feet and Starling nestled in my lap, I felt a surprising sense of calm. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, I had found unlikely allies on this perilous venture.

As the journey progressed, I started to adapt to this new nomadic life. The once-jarring sway of the carriage became a familiar rhythm, almost lulling in its consistency. Russet’s loyal presence and Starling’s unexpected companionship offered small comforts amid the upheaval. Despite my initial resolve to remain detached, I couldn’t help but observe the evolving dynamics of our traveling party. Sir Calibor maintained his imposing vigilance, while Meredith fussed over me with motherly concern. Bernard’s quiet strength was a steady anchor, and even the demon soldiers seemed to soften their stern facades as the days wore on. Each member of this odd procession found their place, creating a fragile ecosystem of coexistence as we moved inexorably toward Lunaria and the life that awaited me there.

Bernard had settled in quite nicely with the human soldiers, his laughter carrying on the wind as if we were off on some grand adventure rather than marching into the jaws of a demon lord’s domain. His easy camaraderie with the men seemed at odds with the gravity of our situation, yet I found myself envying his ability to find joy even in these dire circumstances.

Meredith, bless her heart, took charge of our meals with an efficiency that bordered on military precision. She commandeered the makeshift kitchen, shooing away bewildered soldiers as she set about preparing meals for our entire traveling party. The aroma of her cooking became a beacon of comfort in our transient life on the road.

One evening, as I nibbled at my portion, Sir Calibor approached, his massive form casting a shadow over our small fire. Starling, perched on my shoulder, ruffled her feathers indignantly at the intrusion. “Your attendant’s culinary skills are most impressive, Lady Robin,” he rumbled, a hint of appreciation in his otherworldly eyes. “Our soldiers haven’t had such fine fare on the road in many moons.”

I managed a weak smile, wondering if demon lords appreciated good cooking or if their tastes ran to more… unsavory dishes. Starling chirped, as if in agreement with my unspoken thoughts.

As we neared Lunaria, my anxiety peaked, manifesting in a vivid nightmare that left me shaken. In my dream, I found myself running through an endless maze of dark corridors, my elaborate dress tangling around my legs with every step. My long hair streamed behind me like a golden banner, catching on every protruding stone and branch. Behind me, a hulking demon lord gave chase, his thunderous footsteps echoing off the walls.

“Come here, my little bride,” he growled, his voice a rumble that shook the very foundations of my dreamscape. “I’m going to eat you up!”

I yelped, tripping over my skirts for what felt like the hundredth time. As I scrambled to my feet, I found myself face-to-face with a mirror. The reflection showed me not as myself, but as a quivering rabbit in a frilly dress.

The demon caught up, his massive hand closing around my waist. He lifted me to his face, revealing a forked tongue that flicked out like a snake’s. “Time for dinner.” He grinned, opening his maw wide.

I woke with a scream, drenched in sweat and tangled in my blankets. Meredith rushed to my side, her face pale with worry. Starling, startled from her perch, fluttered around in agitation before settling on my knee, her eyes fixed on me with what seemed like concern.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Meredith cooed, stroking my hair. “Was it the demon again? Don’t you worry, I’ve got a foolproof plan for escape.”

Her foolproof plan, as it turned out, involved disguising ourselves as traveling minstrels— again —with Russet as our dancing bear and Starling as our magical singing bird. As she mimed playing an imaginary lute and warbled a terribly off-key tune, I couldn’t help but laugh despite my lingering fear. Starling joined in with a series of melodious chirps, creating a comical duet.

“Meredith,” I said between giggles, “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Well then,” she huffed, “how about we stuff you in a barrel and roll you out of the city? I hear it worked for a dwarf once.”

Starling cocked her head, as if considering the feasibility of this plan, before letting out a dismissive chirp.

As amusing as Meredith’s increasingly outlandish plans were, they did little to ease my anxiety. By the time we approached Lunaria the next morning, I was exhausted, dark circles under my eyes betraying my restless night. Starling nestled in the crook of my neck, her soft feathers tickling my skin, offering a small comfort.

Despite my fatigue, the vibrancy of the city nearly stole my breath away as we entered. Starling, perched on my shoulder, chirped excitedly at the sights and sounds, while Russet pressed closer to my side, his tail wagging with curiosity. The streets teemed with life: merchants peddling their wares with boisterous calls, children darting between stalls like minnows in a stream, and colors so vivid they momentarily painted over the gray of my dread. The scents of spices and roasting meats mingled with those of fresh bread and sweet fruits, luring me out of my reverie. Russet’s nose twitched, no doubt captivated by the myriad of new smells.

But as we approached Argentum Keep, any sense of wonder was quickly replaced by awe—and fear. Starling’s feathers ruffled, sensing my unease, and Russet let out a low whine. The castle stood proudly atop its hill, its white stone walls gleaming in the sunlight as if woven from moonbeams themselves, while tall spires stretched toward heaven’s embrace. It was magnificent—and terrifying—for it represented not only the end of my journey but also the beginning of an uncertain chapter as bride to a demon lord whose very name whispered like a curse through Aethoria.

As we drew closer, the enormity of the structure took my breath away. Starling nestled closer to my neck, her warmth a small comfort against the chill of apprehension, while Russet pressed his warm body against my legs, offering silent support. The castle was both beautiful and foreboding, its grandeur unlike anything I had ever seen before. My heart raced as we passed through the gates, the reality of my situation settling upon me.

The carriage came to a halt in the courtyard, the sound of the horses’ hooves echoing off the stone walls. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. The door of the carriage swung open, and Sir Calibor extended his hand to me.

“We have arrived, Lady Robin,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the castle.

I placed my hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through me. As I stepped down from the carriage, my eyes were drawn upward to the towering spires of Argentum Keep. This was to be my new home—a place of beauty and terror, where my destiny awaited me, entwined with that of the enigmatic Duke of Lunaria.

The massive front door of Argentum Keep loomed before me like the gaping maw of some great beast, and with every step I took, guided by Sir Calibor’s firm hand, I had the distinct feeling I was being swallowed whole. My heart thrummed against my rib cage. Starling, sensing my distress, nuzzled against my cheek, while Russet pressed close to my side, a low, protective growl rumbling in his chest. The door swung open with a groan that seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

A sea of faces greeted me upon entering—handsome, rugged, and every one of them male. Both humans and demons stood in crisp uniforms, their eyes following my every move with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Starling puffed up her feathers, as if trying to make herself look bigger in the face of so many strangers. Russet’s hackles raised slightly, his ears alert and swiveling to catch every noise. The foyer was a grand open space that seemed to swallow all sound, save for the soft rustle of clothing, the click of Russet’s claws on the polished floor, and distant murmur of activity. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and beneath my slippered feet, a mosaic of such intricacy that I nearly stumbled in awe.

The interior was a marvel—a grand foyer that vaulted skyward, with arches so high they could cradle the clouds. The walls thrummed with the bustle of servants, an army of men darting about with the precision of a well-oiled clockwork. I couldn’t help but note their muscular builds, the way their clothes strained against sinew and flesh. Starling’s gaze darted about, taking in every detail, while Russet’s nose twitched, no doubt cataloging the myriad of new scents in this unfamiliar place.

I caught whispers and furtive glances as we passed. The absence of a single female servant filled me with dread. The rumors, it seemed, were true—every young woman who could flee had done so, leaving behind a castle devoid of feminine grace. My mind reeled with the implications. Just how insatiable was the Duke of Lunaria? How terrifying a presence must he cast to empty a castle of its women?

As Sir Calibor escorted me toward the great hall, a familiar movement caught my eye—Russet, whimpering softly as Meredith and Bernard held him back. His eyes met mine, filled with concern. A lump formed in my throat; I was to face this throng of demons alone. Starling, sensing the impending separation, let out a mournful chirp.

“I’m sorry, little one,” I whispered, gently lifting Starling from my shoulder. “You must stay with Meredith and the others.”

With a heavy heart, I passed Starling to Meredith, who cradled the bird gently. Starling’s eyes locked with mine, filled with what seemed like understanding and concern. As the doors to the great hall loomed before me, I cast one last glance at my companions—Meredith, Bernard, Russet, and Starling—before stepping forward to meet my fate. My heart, already a frantic drumbeat in my chest, threatened to burst from my rib cage as I faced the unknown alone.

The great doors to the hall loomed ahead, and as the footmen pulled them open, I teetered on the brink of flight. Run, a voice in my head screamed. Run now, while you still can! But Sir Calibor’s hand was firm at the small of my back, propelling me forward as he announced my arrival in a voice that boomed like thunder.

“Lady Robin Aldercrest, His Grace’s bride,” he declared.

My entrance was anything but graceful; I stumbled over the hem of my gown as if it conspired against me, nearly sending me sprawling before this assembly of demons. My palms hit the cold floor, jarring me back to reality.

Looking up from my unceremonious position, I beheld them. Each one was more imposing than the last, their appearances a terrifying blend of power and otherworldly beauty. One demon’s crimson skin gleamed like fresh blood, while another’s emerald scales shimmered in the light. A third stood tall and lean, his midnight-blue skin adorned with silver markings that seemed to move of their own accord. Yet another exuded a wild ferocity that made me want to cower, while the last appeared as if carved from living ice, frost patterns adorning his pale-blue skin.

Their eyes bored into mine—some gleaming with detached amusement at my predicament. These demons were colossal—towering well over six feet tall—making even my father and half brothers seem diminutive in comparison. I had to crane my neck almost painfully to meet their gazes, feeling like a mouse among lions.

I spun slowly on my heel, my gaze darting from one demon to the next, searching for the duke among them. Their silence was unnerving, their stares an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. My pulse raced, a wild rhythm that threatened to consume me. If these were the duke’s lieutenants, what manner of creature was their lord?

In a moment of sheer panic, I blurted out, “Which one of you isn’t going to eat me?” The words escaped before I could stop them, hanging in the air like a bad jest. A ripple of laughter—or was it growling?—passed through the assembled demons. My face burned with embarrassment, and I wished fervently that the polished floor would open up and swallow me whole. I stood there, trembling like a leaf in a storm, awaiting the arrival of the Duke of Lunaria and wondering if I’d survive this encounter with my dignity—or my sanity—intact.

The echo of my blunder throbbed in my ears, each pulse a searing indictment of my unrivaled talent for making a fool of myself. As if the grandeur of Argentum Keep wasn’t intimidating enough, I had to go and add fuel to the fire with my tongue. But before I could even contemplate an escape into the merciful shadows, a presence materialized behind me—subtle as a whisper yet commanding as a storm.

Spinning around with the grace of a startled fawn, my heart catapulted into a gallop. There he was, the Duke of Lunaria, an imposing figure cloaked in darkness and power. The air seemed to shift around him, the atmosphere crackling with his silent authority.

He towered over me like a mountain over a valley. My neck strained as I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, feeling like I was attempting to count the stars in the night sky. The Duke of Lunaria stood before me in all his terrifying glory. He was colossal, a veritable giant whose imposing stature seemed to shrink even the vast expanse of the great hall. His shoulders were broad enough to eclipse the sun, his form rippling with muscle and restrained power.

The duke’s gaze bored into mine with an intensity that left me breathless, his sleek black hair cascading over his shoulders like a waterfall of midnight, framing a face that was both terrifyingly handsome and coldly aloof. His features were chiseled from stone, with piercing molten gold eyes that seemed to strip away my carefully constructed facade with a single glance.

Crowning his imposing figure were his horns—a sight that stole what little breath I had left. They were magnificent, curving slightly back from his forehead in a majestic arc that spoke of power and regality. The horns gleamed like polished obsidian, their sharp tips catching the light and creating an ethereal halo around his head. They were the crown of a demon lord, both beautiful and terrifying in their perfection, completing the awe-inspiring image of the Duke of Lunaria.

“You must be Lady Robin Aldercrest, my bride,” he said, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. His voice was a deep, melodic rumble that seemed to resonate within the very marrow of my bones.

I managed a nod, my breath hitching as I curtsied with as much grace as my trembling limbs could muster. It was a motion I’d learned from books rather than practice, and it showed.

“Your Grace,” I squeaked out, my voice betraying my fear. “I am Robin Aldercrest, at your service.” My words were a jumble of practiced etiquette and raw terror.

The duke’s gaze roamed over me, a silent predator assessing its prey. His eyes traveled from the top of my head to the hem of my gown, taking in every detail. It was a look that made my blood run both hot and cold, turning my insides to jelly and my thoughts to mush.

Then, to my bewilderment, his molten gold eyes lingered on my exposed chest. A strange heat bloomed beneath my skin, spreading like wildfire through my veins. Before I could process this unfamiliar sensation, his gaze flicked up, locking with mine.

The intensity of his stare pinned me in place, stealing the breath from my lungs. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to just us two. I felt both thrilled and terrified, my heart racing for reasons I couldn’t comprehend. It was as if an invisible thread had been pulled taut between us, creating a tension I had never experienced before.

Amid this confusing whirlwind of sensations, panic gripped me as I realized my grievous error—in my nervousness upon entering the city, I had forgotten to ask Meredith to wrap a scarf around my neck to hide any hint of skin. My lack of feminine curves now felt like a glaring flaw under his scrutiny, yet the intensity of his gaze made me feel oddly… seen.

This unfamiliar feeling terrified me even more than the fear of discovery. What was happening to me? Why did I feel simultaneously drawn to and frightened by this demon lord I had just met?

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy with unspoken tension. I felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the duke could see right through my carefully constructed facade to the trembling boy beneath. My mouth went dry, my mind racing to find something—anything—to say that wouldn’t further reveal my deception or the strange, unfamiliar feelings coursing through me.

And then, as if my brain had decided to sever all ties with my mouth, I heard myself blurt out, “Do demon lords prefer their brides rare, medium, or well-done?”

The words hung in the air, a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing over me. My cheeks flamed, the heat of my humiliation threatening to ignite the very air between us. I watched, horrified, as the duke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his lips parting ever so slightly. Did his lips twitch in amusement, or was it my imagination?

For a moment that stretched too long, he just stared at me, and then everything went topsy-turvy. The edges of my vision began to darken, the grandeur of the hall spinning around me in a dizzying dance. My knees turned to water, and I felt myself sinking, falling backward with all the grace of a marionette with cut strings.

But instead of the cold, hard embrace of the marble floor, I felt strong arms catch me. In a swift, fluid motion that belied his massive size, the duke had moved to intercept my fall. His touch was surprisingly gentle, yet I could feel the raw power coiled in his muscles as he held me effortlessly.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” I murmured, my voice little more than a whisper as darkness crept into the corners of my vision. “I seem to have… fainted.”

As consciousness slipped away, cradled in the arms of the demon lord, my last coherent thought was a fervent wish that I would wake up to find this had all been nothing more than a particularly vivid nightmare. But even as the world faded to black, I knew that my life had irrevocably changed, and that this was only the beginning of my adventure in the demon lord’s castle.