A Heart Disguised 1 (The Demon Lords of Aethoria)

5. Darius

5

Darius

T he soft scratching of quill on parchment filled Darius’ study, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of papers as Alaric sorted through the seemingly endless pile of reports. Darius leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off an impending headache.

“Alaric, what’s next on the agenda?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with weariness.

His assistant consulted a meticulously organized schedule. “We have the grain yield projections from the eastern farmlands, Your Grace. And then there’s the matter of the new trade routes to discuss.”

Darius nodded, reaching for the next stack of papers. Hours passed, and the pile of documents slowly dwindled. As the last report was signed and sealed, Darius stood, stretching his tall frame. “I think that’s enough for today, Alaric. I’m going to inspect the training grounds.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” Alaric replied, already tidying up the desk.

The corridors of Argentum Keep were a hive of activity as servants scurried about their duties. Many bowed or curtsied as Darius passed, their eyes darting nervously to his imposing horns before quickly looking away. He was used to such reactions from the human staff, though he noted that some seemed to be growing more accustomed to his presence.

As he stepped out into the crisp afternoon air, the sounds of clashing metal and shouted commands reached his ears. The training grounds sprawled before him, a vast expanse of packed earth dotted with various obstacles and practice areas. To his left, archers loosed volley after volley at straw-stuffed targets. To his right, a group of soldiers ran through complex sword drills, their blades flashing in the sunlight.

In the center of it all stood Sir Thorne, his crimson skin glistening with sweat as he barked orders at a group of new recruits. The burly demon’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a human soldier’s sloppy footwork, and he strode over to correct the error.

Darius made his way through the training grounds, nodding approvingly at the mix of human and demon soldiers working side by side. It had been a challenge at first, integrating the two races into a cohesive fighting force, but the results were beginning to show.

“Your Grace,” Sir Thorne’s booming voice carried across the field as he approached, bowing his head respectfully. “Come to see how the new blood is shaping up?”

“Indeed,” Darius replied, his eyes scanning the troops. “They seem to be progressing well. How are they handling the joint training?”

Thorne grinned, revealing sharp fangs. “Better than expected, truth be told. The humans are learning to overcome their fear, and the demons are learning patience. It’s a sight to behold when they finally click as a unit.”

Darius nodded, pleased. “Excellent work.”

A servant came hurrying across the training grounds, looking somewhat out of breath. “Your Grace,” he panted, bowing low. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, but I bring news. The Grand Duke of Solarys has arrived at the keep.”

Darius raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his features. “Ignis? Here?” He hadn’t invited any of the higher-ranking demon lords to the wedding, knowing the political complications it could cause. But trust Ignis to show up uninvited. “Very well. I’ll receive him at once.”

Turning back to Thorne, Darius issued his final orders. “Continue with the training regimen. I want daily reports on our preparedness. And Thorne,” he added, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “keep an eye out for any unusual activity within the keep.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” Thorne replied with a sharp nod.

As Darius made his way back to the keep, he couldn’t help but wonder at Ignis’ sudden appearance. The Grand Duke of Solarys was many things—brash, loud, and fiercely loyal among them—but he wasn’t one for surprise social calls. No, Ignis must have heard about the wedding and decided to investigate for himself.

The great hall of Argentum Keep was abuzz with whispers as Darius entered. Servants scurried about, casting nervous glances toward the imposing figure that dominated the center of the room. Ignis stood there in all his glory, a full head taller than most of the humans around him, his muscular frame draped in silks of deep crimson and gold that did little to hide his impressive physique.

As Darius approached, he took in the familiar sight of his old friend. Ignis’ fiery red-gold hair was swept back from his forehead, revealing striking amber eyes that seemed to dance with an inner light. His sun-kissed skin practically glowed, and the intricate, swirling markings that adorned his arms and neck seemed to shift and move of their own accord.

The effect on the room was palpable. Human servants cowered in Ignis’ presence, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. Even some of the demon staff seemed intimidated, giving the grand duke a wide berth.

Ignis’ face split into a wide grin as he spotted Darius, revealing perfectly white teeth and slightly elongated canines. “Darius, you sly old serpent!” he boomed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. In three long strides, he closed the distance between them and pulled Darius into a crushing embrace. “Getting married and not even inviting your best friend? I’m wounded, truly wounded!”

Darius allowed himself a small smile as he returned the hug, though with considerably less enthusiasm. “Ignis. What an… unexpected surprise.”

Ignis pulled back, holding Darius at arm’s length as he looked him up and down. “Well, you don’t seem to be under any enchantments or mind control. So, tell me, what madness has possessed you to suddenly take a bride?”

Darius sighed, already feeling a headache forming behind his eyes. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private,” he suggested, noting the many ears straining to catch every word of their exchange.

“Ha! Still the same old Darius, always so serious.” Ignis laughed, slapping Darius on the back with enough force to stagger a lesser being. “Lead on, then. I’m dying to hear all about this mystery woman who’s managed to ensnare the infamous Duke of Shadowmere.”

As they made their way through the keep, Darius could feel the eyes of every servant, guard, and courtier following their progress. Ignis’ presence was like a bonfire in a dark room—impossible to ignore and potentially dangerous if one got too close.

They arrived at Darius’ private drawing room, a comfortable space lined with bookshelves and furnished with plush chairs and a low table. As soon as the door closed behind them, Ignis sprawled into one of the chairs, his long legs stretched out before him.

“Now then,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “pour us some of that excellent whiskey you always keep hidden away and tell me everything.”

Darius moved to a cabinet, retrieving a crystal decanter and two glasses. As he poured the amber liquid, he considered how much to reveal. Ignis was a friend, yes, but he was also a powerful demon lord with his own agenda.

“It’s a political arrangement,” Darius said at last, handing Ignis a glass before taking a seat opposite him. “Nothing more.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his whiskey. “A political arrangement? With whom? Last I checked, there weren’t any unmarried demon princesses or duchesses of sufficient standing to warrant such a match for someone of your rank.”

“She’s of Aethorian nobility,” Darius admitted, swirling the liquor in his glass. “The marriage will help solidify our rule in this realm. It will show the humans that we’re committed to integration, not just conquest.”

“Ah, so she’s human, then.” Ignis nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Well, well. The mighty Darius, taking a mortal as his bride. I never thought I’d see the day.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me, have you seen her yet? Is she at least pretty? I know how you appreciate beauty in all its forms.”

Darius felt a flicker of irritation at Ignis’ tone but kept his face impassive. “I haven’t met her yet,” he said carefully. “But as I said, it’s a political match. My personal preferences don’t enter into it.”

Ignis threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich and booming. “Oh, come now, Darius! Surely you don’t expect me to believe that? You, who once bedded twins just to see if the rumors about their stamina were true?” He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, my friend, I think there’s more to this story than you’re letting on. A human noble, no matter how high-born, is still quite a step down for a demon lord of your status.”

Darius sipped his whiskey, using the moment to gather his thoughts. “Things are different now, Ignis. We’re not in the demon realm anymore. Here, we have responsibilities, expectations to meet.”

“Responsibilities!” Ignis scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me, Darius. Next, you’ll be telling me you’re eager to meet this human girl.”

The look Darius shot him could have frozen hellfire.

Ignis held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Political marriage it is. But tell me this—what happens when your new bride discovers your… particular tastes? I can’t imagine she’ll be too thrilled about sharing you with others.”

“She won’t have to,” Darius said flatly. “As I said, this is a marriage of convenience. What I do in my private time is my own affair.”

Ignis whistled low. “Cold, my friend. Very cold. But I suppose that’s why they call you the Shadow Duke, eh?” He drained his glass and held it out for a refill. As Darius obliged, Ignis’ expression grew more serious. “In all honesty, Darius, how do you feel about this? Marriage to a human… it’s not something to be entered into lightly. There will be consequences, both here and in the demon realm.”

Darius’ jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “It wasn’t my choice, Ignis. King Azrael decreed it, citing the need for better integration and to soften my image among the humans. But you’re right, the implications are… significant.”

“And what of our world?” Ignis pressed. “You know as well as I do that there are factions back home who won’t take kindly to one of our highest-ranking lords binding himself to a human.”

“Let them object,” Darius said, a hint of steel entering his voice. “It’s done. We’ll deal with the consequences as they come.”

Ignis studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Well, you’ve always been adaptable. I just hope you’re prepared for what’s coming.” He grinned suddenly, the serious mood evaporating as quickly as it had come. “So, when do you get to meet this mystery bride of yours? I’m simply dying of curiosity.”

Darius hesitated. “Soon, I expect. Lord Aldercrest has two daughters, but I’ve yet to be informed which one I’m to wed. I’m still waiting on some… intelligence to come in.”

“Ah, I see.” Ignis winked knowingly. “Doing your due diligence, are you? Well, don’t let me keep you from your investigations. I’ll just have to content myself with meeting her at the wedding.” He stood, stretching his impressive frame. “Speaking of which, I assume I’m invited now that I’m here?”

Darius sighed, knowing there was no way to refuse without causing offense. “Of course. I’ll have rooms prepared for you.”

“Excellent!” Ignis beamed. “This is going to be quite the spectacle. The Shadow Duke wed to a human noble—the other lords will be talking about this for centuries!” He stretched his impressive frame, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Now, I think I’ll take a stroll through your domain, old friend. It’s been too long since I’ve visited this part of our fair realm.”

Darius raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “If you’re planning on venturing beyond the keep, you’d do well to temper your appearance, Ignis. The citizens of Lunaria are accustomed to my presence, but your fiery visage might be a bit… overwhelming for them.”

Ignis laughed, the sound reminiscent of crackling flames. “Ah, where’s the fun in that? But very well, I’ll dim my radiance a touch. Wouldn’t want to outshine you in your own duchy, now would I?”

“Speaking of which,” Darius said, rising from his chair, “I trust you didn’t make this journey alone? A grand duke such as yourself must have brought an entourage.”

“Sharp as ever, my friend.” Ignis grinned. “Indeed, I brought a small retinue with me. They await outside your keep, not wishing to overwhelm your household all at once.”

Darius nodded, already mentally rearranging the castle’s accommodations. “I’ll have my butler prepare suitable quarters for you and your escort in the east wing. It should provide ample privacy and space for your needs.”

“Always so hospitable,” Ignis said with a mock bow. “Well, I’ll leave you to your preparations, then. I’m sure you have much to attend to, what with a wedding on the horizon and all.”

As Ignis swept out of the room, his booming laughter echoing down the hallway, Darius moved to pull a velvet cord near the fireplace. Within moments, a soft knock at the door announced the arrival of his butler.

Clarence entered with a bow, his movements speaking of years of service within these stone walls, long before Darius had claimed the castle as his own. “Your Grace,” the elderly human said, “how may I be of service?”

Darius regarded him for a moment, noting the man’s composure in the face of his demonic presence. It was… admirable, in its way. “Clarence,” he addressed the butler, “arrange suitable accommodations for the Grand Duke of Solarys and his retinue in the east wing. Ensure they have everything they need—and more. Ignis has expensive tastes.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Clarence replied with another bow. “I’ll see to it immediately. Is there anything else you require?”

Darius waved a hand in dismissal. “That will be all for now.”

As Clarence quietly exited the room, Darius allowed himself a moment of silence. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and reached out with his magic. He felt the familiar tingle as his consciousness split, connecting with the five birds he had sent to observe his intended. These living creatures, once ordinary birds, were now extensions of his will. The magic he had imbued them with allowed him to see through their eyes and hear through their ears, transforming them into the perfect spies.

As his consciousness spread, Darius felt the unique presence of each bird—the raven, hawk, dove, magpie, and starling. Their individual traits and perspectives melded into a comprehensive network of surveillance. It was time to see what his feathered agents had uncovered about Lord Aldercrest’s daughter, the young noble who was to be his bride.

Through the eyes of the raven, its feathers as black as the deepest night, Darius saw an aerial view of the Aethorian countryside. Lush forests gave way to rolling hills, dotted with small villages and winding roads. The raven’s keen eyes picked out the glint of armor—the escort party, no doubt.

Switching his focus, Darius connected with the hawk. Its vision was sharp, almost painfully so, every detail crisp and clear. He saw the escort team in full now: a dozen armored guards flanking ornate carriages. The hawk circled lower, and Darius caught glimpses of the occupants through the windows. A plump, middle-aged woman with a kind face—likely a nursemaid or chaperone. A man of similar age, perhaps her husband. And there, just for a moment, a flash of blond hair.

The dove offered a gentler perspective as it flew alongside the procession. Its snow-white feathers caught the light, creating an almost ethereal effect. Through its eyes, Darius saw the way the guards relaxed slightly as they passed through a peaceful meadow, their hands moving away from their weapons.

The magpie darted between trees, its black and white wings flashing in the dappled sunlight. It provided tantalizing glimpses of the road ahead, scouting for any potential dangers. So far, the journey seemed uneventful.

But it was the starling’s view that truly captured Darius’ attention. Its iridescent feathers shimmered as it followed the procession closely. As the carriages came to a stop for a rest, the starling’s gaze fixed on a figure moving away from the group.

Darius leaned forward in his chair, his physical body responding to his magical focus. Through the starling’s eyes, he spotted a slender figure emerging from the carriage, clad in an elegant gown that seemed at odds with their furtive movements.

The figure—presumably Lord Aldercrest’s daughter—emerged from the carriage with all the stealth of a bull in a china shop. She glanced around suspiciously, her head swiveling so dramatically that Darius half expected it to spin clean off her shoulders. Her movements reminded him less of a noblewoman and more of a pantomime villain about to commit a dastardly deed.

At her side, a large hound trotted faithfully, tail wagging. The dog seemed far more at ease than its mistress, occasionally looking up at her with what Darius could swear was canine exasperation.

The young woman took a few tentative steps, clearly struggling with the voluminous skirts of her gown. She lifted the fabric as if it were a live serpent, her face a comical mix of determination and disgust. At one point, she nearly tripped over her own feet, catching herself at the last moment with a graceless hop that sent her teetering like a drunken acrobat.

The dog, apparently deciding his mistress needed help, grabbed a mouthful of her skirts and began tugging, as if to guide her. This well-intentioned assistance resulted in a brief, undignified tug-of-war that ended with the young woman stumbling forward, arms pinwheeling wildly.

As she regained her balance, she attempted to smooth her hair and regain some semblance of dignity. However, this effort was promptly undermined when she stepped on the hem of her gown and let out a squeak that sounded more befitting a mouse than a noblewoman.

Darius found himself chuckling, a sound that startled him as much as it would have startled anyone who knew him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been genuinely amused by a human’s antics. Baffled by his own reaction, he shook off the feeling and focused once more on the scene before him, curious to see what other entertaining mishaps awaited this clumsy bride-to-be.

The young woman continued her comical escape attempt, ducking behind trees and peeking around corners as if she were on some grand espionage mission rather than a simple trip to the stream. When she finally reached the water’s edge, she let out a sigh of relief so exaggerated that Darius could practically feel it through the starling’s senses.

As she began to unlace her gown, Darius immediately directed the starling to turn away. Regardless of his curiosity, he was not about to invade the privacy of his future bride in such a manner. The bird obediently flew to a nearby tree, its back to the stream.

Moments later, a commotion broke the peaceful scene. A wild hawk appeared, diving toward the starling with talons extended. Darius felt a jolt of pain as his spy plummeted toward the riverbank, its vision blurring.

Through the bird’s dazed eyes, Darius saw a figure approaching—his bride, freshly bathed and clad only in wet undergarments. As the figure knelt beside the injured starling, Darius’ breath caught in his throat.

Long blond hair cascaded down the slender form, clinging to damp skin like spun silk. The face that came into focus was heart-shaped and utterly beautiful, with pouty lips and large, expressive eyes the color of emeralds framed by long dark lashes. The skin was pale and flawless, like fine porcelain.

But it was the body that made Darius’ eyes widen in shock. The chest, while slender, was decidedly flat, with small, perky nipples visible through the wet fabric of the undergarment. The waist was narrow, the hips slim. This was no woman’s form, but that of a boy—a stunningly beautiful one, but a boy nonetheless.

Rage at the deception warred with an unexpected surge of attraction. Despite his usual disinterest in humans, Darius found himself captivated by the androgynous beauty before him. It was easy to see how this boy could pass as a woman, especially from a distance, with his ethereal grace and delicate features.

As he watched through the starling’s eyes, the boy cupped his hands tenderly around the injured bird. To Darius’ surprise, a soft glow began to emanate from the young man’s palms, bathing the creature in gentle, healing light.

Magic, Darius realized with a start. His “bride” possessed healing abilities—a rare and precious gift in these lands, one that spoke of a gentle heart and nurturing spirit. As the warm glow faded, the starling chirped happily, its injuries melting away under the boy’s careful ministrations.

“Well,” the boy murmured, his voice soft and melodious like wind chimes in a summer breeze, “I suppose you’d like to stay with us, little one? Very well, I shall call you Starling, for your resilience.”

The sound of that voice stirred something deep within Darius, awakening thoughts and desires he hadn’t experienced in centuries. His mind wandered to more intimate possibilities before he forcefully returned his attention to the matter at hand, though the lingering effect of that musical voice remained.

As he observed this fascinating creature, a memory surfaced from the depths of his mind. The final passage of the investigation report on House Aldercrest had mentioned, almost as an afterthought, that Lord Aldercrest had sired a bastard son named Robin, a youth of eighteen years often mistaken for a maiden.

Robin. A name as ambiguous as the boy himself, suited to both man and maid. The pieces of this intricate puzzle fell into place with a clarity that was both satisfying and infuriating, like a sweet wine with a bitter aftertaste.

The cunning nobleman had sent his bastard son in place of his trueborn daughters—Rosalind and Lily—deeming Robin expendable in this dangerous game of politics and power. It was a clever ploy, preserving his bloodline from demonic “taint” while still appearing to honor the agreement, though the callousness of sacrificing his own child stirred something dark within Darius.

As Robin, now fully attired in his feminine guise, made his way back to the carriage with surprising grace despite his earlier clumsiness, Darius withdrew his consciousness from the avian spies. All but the newly christened Starling returned to their silent watch, the bird seemingly content to remain close to its gentle savior—an unexpected advantage that brought a slight smile to Darius’ lips.

Despite his fury at the deception, Darius couldn’t deny the growing fascination that tugged at his centuries-old heart. The boy’s ethereal beauty, nascent magical prowess, and even his endearingly clumsy attempts at stealth had awakened something within him—a spark of genuine interest that burned brighter with each new discovery. The potential here, both politically and personally, whispered of possibilities too intriguing to ignore in favor of mere retribution.

A knock at the door interrupted his reverie. He looked up, realizing with a start that the room had grown dark during his observations, the shadows lengthening like his own tumultuous thoughts. A servant entered, bowing low.

“Your Grace,” the man said, “dinner is served. Your lieutenants and the grand duke await you in the dining hall.”

Darius stood, his mind still swimming with the implications of what he’d discovered. As he made his way to the dining hall, he couldn’t shake the image of Robin from his mind.

This arrangement had just become far more intriguing than he’d anticipated. Darius allowed himself a small predatory smile. Oh yes, he would enjoy this game with Robin, toying with the boy who dared to come to him in disguise. The prospect was thrilling, a challenge he hadn’t faced in centuries. And when Robin finally arrived at the castle… well, that would be a meeting to savor, as Darius slowly revealed his knowledge of the deception.

As he entered the dining hall, Darius schooled his features into their usual impassive mask. His lieutenants and Ignis were already seated, an eclectic gathering if ever there was one. Ignis’ fiery presence seemed to fill the room, his vibrant energy a counterpoint to the more restrained auras of Darius’ underlings.

As Darius approached the head of the table, he took in the sight of his assembled lieutenants. Sir Zephyr sat to the right of Darius’ empty chair. Next to Zephyr, Sir Thorne’s crimson skin and tribal tattoos commanded attention, his muscular frame coiled with barely contained power. Beside Thorne, Sir Vex’s reptilian features glinted in the candlelight, his emerald scales catching the light. Across the table, Sir Fenris’ wolflike features were alert, his silver fur bristling slightly, while at the far end, Sir Orion’s pale-blue skin seemed to glow faintly, his frost patterns shifting subtly in the warm room.

“Ah, there you are!” Ignis boomed from his place of honor to the left of Darius’ chair, raising a glass in Darius’ direction. “We were beginning to think you’d gotten lost in your own castle.”

Darius inclined his head in acknowledgment, his eyes sweeping over his assembled advisors before he took his seat at the head of the table. “My apologies for the delay,” he said, his voice betraying nothing of his earlier musings. “I had some… interesting developments to consider regarding our upcoming nuptials.”

Zephyr turned slightly to face his lord, his eyes meeting Darius’ golden ones. “Interesting developments, Your Grace?” he inquired, his voice as smooth as silk. “Perhaps something our soon-to-arrive bride should be concerned about?”

Darius allowed a hint of amusement to color his tone. “Oh, I believe our bride will find the situation… most enlightening when the time comes.”