11. Robin
11
Robin
I burst into my bedchamber, my heart racing as if I’d just outrun a pack of wild wolves. The adorable little black pup I’d found during my stroll squirmed in my arms, while Russet trotted in behind me. Starling fluttered in last, a shimmering streak of blue-green against the dim corridor.
“Ugh!” I groaned. “I can’t believe I ran into them! This castle is enormous—what are the odds?” Of all the corridors in this labyrinthine keep, I had to stumble upon the duke and Grand Duke Ignatius.
Tales of the grand duke’s exploits ranged from the awe-inspiring to the utterly absurd. They said he once set an entire forest ablaze with nothing but his booming laughter, the trees dancing in sync with his mirth. Rumors claimed he rode a chariot pulled by phoenixes, their fiery plumage a pale imitation of his own incandescent hair. Children whispered that he bathed in lava to soothe his battle-worn muscles and feasted on the hearts of dragons to maintain his fearsome strength.
Some swore his eyes held a fire more intense than the sun’s core, capable of turning water to steam with a mere glance. The more outlandish stories insisted he could summon infernos with a flick of his wrist, scorch the very air with his words, and turn his enemies to ash with nothing but a thought. Whether fact or fiction, these tales painted His Grace as a force of nature, a whirlwind of destruction and might. His temperament was said to be as volatile and unpredictable as the infernos he commanded, shifting from playful mischief to terrifying rage in the blink of an eye. The stories agreed on one thing: crossing the Grand Duke of Solarys was akin to leaping into the heart of a volcano—a foolish act with inevitably devastating consequences.
Setting the little black pup down on the plush carpet, I knelt beside him, my fingers sinking into his velvety fur. “And just who might you be, little one?” I murmured, searching for any sign of ownership—a ribbon or an ornate collar befitting a noble’s pet. But there was nothing. “Where did you come from? Are you a stray?” The thought of keeping him flitted through my mind, a tempting possibility.
As I fussed over the pup, my troublesome gown decided to join in the mischief. The collar slipped off one shoulder, then the other, eliciting an exasperated sigh from me. “Of all the times to misbehave,” I muttered, tugging at the fabric. It was just my luck that the dress would choose to act up right when Duke Darius was around. I glanced nervously at the door, half expecting the duke and Grand Duke Ignatius to burst through at any moment, drawn by my sartorial misfortune.
The door creaked open, causing me to jump, but it was only Meredith. Her eyes widened at the sight of the puppy, a mixture of surprise and amusement playing across her features. “Master Robin,” she exclaimed, her tone caught between shock and laughter, “did you pilfer that pup from the duke’s kennels?”
I bristled at the accusation, my cheeks flushing. “I did no such thing!” I protested, though I couldn’t deny that I had once again attracted another lost soul. “He simply… found me. I was exploring the castle, and there he was, as if he’d been waiting for me.”
Meredith’s laughter filled the room as she shook her head fondly. “Oh, my dear Master Robin,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth, “you do have the most peculiar habit of attracting strays. It’s as if you’re a beacon for lost and lonely creatures. Animals aren’t safe from your charms—be they common or noble.”
She stepped closer, eyeing my disheveled appearance with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “You’re like an animal whisperer, drawing in every stray within leagues. Russet, Starling, and now this little shadow.” She gestured to the black pup, who had curled up contentedly on the rug.
Before I could formulate a response, Meredith was already steering me toward my wardrobe. “Come now, we must get you ready for dinner. The duke may be a demon lord, but I imagine even he expects punctuality.”
As I was hauled away to change, I cast a longing look back at the little black pup. His dark eyes twinkled with mischief, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this castle, with all its splendor and shadows, was gradually wrapping itself around my heart—one stray animal at a time. The dress may have been bothersome, but these creatures… they felt like home.
Not long after, I was following a young male servant down the corridor toward the dining room. Meredith’s absence was keenly felt; her comforting presence and softly spoken words of encouragement had been my lifeline during these social forays. But I suppose Meredith now deemed me capable of navigating these treacherous waters without her support.
My latest sartorial ensemble was a gown of soft green that complemented my eyes. The color reminded me of the lush forests of Lunaria, a small comfort in this stone labyrinth. My hair, usually a wild cascade of pale silk, had been tamed into a loose braid that rested over one shoulder. However, the gown’s off-the-shoulder style left me feeling exposed, its long puffy bell- shaped sleeves accentuating every nervous movement of my arms.
As we approached the dining room, my heart began to race. The servant pushed open the heavy doors, and I stepped inside, only to come to an abrupt halt. My internal screams could have shattered crystal—why had no one warned me of this daunting dinner party?
Inside the room were not only the duke and the grand duke but also those imposing demons I’d encountered upon my arrival at Lunaria. They stood there, a lineup of otherworldly figures that made the spacious room feel suffocatingly small. I wanted nothing more than to flee, to race back to the safety of my chambers, but it was too late. They had spotted me, and the servant had firmly shut the door behind me with a thud that echoed like a death knell.
Taking a deep breath, I willed my feet to move. Each step felt like wading through quicksand as I approached the assembly. In my head, I recited a desperate mantra: Don’t faint. Don’t trip. Don’t make a fool of yourself. Again.
I managed a curtsy that was, if not elegant, at least upright. Despite my best efforts to avoid eye contact, I found my gaze inexplicably drawn to each of the duke’s lieutenants in turn, fascinated by their unique appearances.
The duke stepped forward, taking my hand and making me jump at the sudden contact. “Lady Robin, allow me to introduce my lieutenants,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he observed my wide-eyed reactions. “Sir Zephyr,” he began, gesturing to a figure with midnight-blue skin adorned with gleaming patterns.
I curtsied, my heart fluttering in my chest. The movement caused a loose strand of hair to fall across my face, and I hurriedly tucked it behind my ear, acutely aware of every pair of eyes on me. But my own gaze was transfixed by the intricate designs adorning Sir Zephyr’s skin. The silvery lines seemed to shimmer and dance in the light, creating a mesmerizing display that I couldn’t look away from.
“Your skin, it’s like… like starlight on a twilight sky,” I blurted out, immediately blushing at my boldness. Oh, heavens above, did I really just say that? Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but continue to stare in wonder. The ethereal swirls and curves seemed almost alive, as if they might rearrange themselves into new constellations at any moment.
Sir Zephyr’s eyebrow arched, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “An interesting observation, Lady Robin,” he replied.
His voice washed over me like shadows whispering in the night. Yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those mesmerizing patterns on his skin. My fingers itched to trace the luminous designs, curiosity burning to know if they felt as magical as they looked. It took every ounce of my willpower to keep my hands clasped demurely in front of me, resisting the urge to reach out and touch.
“Sir Vex,” the duke continued, indicating a demon with reptilian features.
My eyes widened as I took in his appearance. The candlelight flickered off his scales, creating a mesmerizing dance of green and gold. Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward slightly. “Oh! Do your scales change color like a chameleon’s?” I asked, then clapped a hand over my mouth, mortified. Robin, you fool! He’s a powerful demon, not some curiosity in a menagerie!
Sir Vex let out a low, rumbling chuckle that I could almost feel in my chest. “I’m afraid not, my lady. Though that would be quite useful for a spy, wouldn’t it?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak again without embarrassing myself further.
“Sir Thorne,” announced the duke, and my gaze fell upon a wall of muscle with crimson skin and black tribal tattoos.
I had to crane my neck to look up at him properly, feeling suddenly very small and fragile. The intricate patterns on his skin seemed to move in the flickering light, drawing my attention. “Goodness, your tattoos are fascinating! Do they tell a story?” I inquired, leaning closer to examine them. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?
Sir Thorne’s booming laugh filled the room, making me jump and stumble back a step. The duke’s hand on my elbow steadied me, sending a jolt of awareness through my body.
“Indeed they do, little one. Each represents a battle won,” Sir Thorne replied, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Sir Orion,” the duke said, and I found myself face-to-face with a demon whose pale-blue skin was adorned with intricate frost patterns.
As he took my hand, I shivered involuntarily. His touch was like grasping an icicle, and I had to resist the urge to pull away. “My word, you’re as cold as winter! Do you ever need a coat?” I asked, then immediately regretted my words. Oh, brilliant, Robin. Why don’t you just ask if he’s ever caught a cold while you’re at it?
Sir Orion’s icy eyes sparkled with amusement. “A coat would be… superfluous, Lady Robin.”
I nodded, rubbing my hand surreptitiously to warm it up.
“And Sir Fenris,” the duke concluded, gesturing to a demon with wolflike features and silver fur.
I tilted my head, studying his lupine appearance. My fingers twitched with the sudden, mad desire to touch his fur to see if it was as soft as it looked. I clenched my hands in the folds of my dress to resist the urge. “I hope this isn’t rude, but do you howl at the moon? It seems like it would be terribly fun.” Oh, for heaven’s sake, Robin! You might as well ask to scratch behind his ears!
Sir Fenris’ lips curled into a wolfish grin, revealing sharp canines. “Only on special occasions, my lady. Perhaps you’d like to join me sometime?”
I felt heat rush to my cheeks at his words, unsure if he was jesting. The thought of howling at the moon with a pack of demon wolves was both terrifying and oddly exhilarating.
As I finished the introductions, I realized I’d been babbling like a brook, asking the most outlandish questions. But to my surprise, each of the lieutenants seemed more intrigued than offended by my unfiltered curiosity. I caught the duke watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher—was it amusement? Or something else entirely?
I smoothed down my gown nervously, acutely conscious of the exposed skin of my shoulders. The weight of their collective gazes made me feel like a rare specimen under examination. Part of me wanted to flee, to hide away in my chambers, but another part—a part I barely recognized—was thrilled by the attention and the dangerous allure of these powerful beings.
The duke guided me to a seat beside him, his touch both unsettling and soothing my nerves. The lieutenants and the grand duke took their places around the table, their movements fluid and graceful despite their imposing presence. I couldn’t help but feel like a lamb surrounded by wolves, clutching my napkin as if it were a lifeline. My mind reeled from the introductions and the stark realization that I was about to dine with some of the most powerful beings in Aethoria.
No sooner had we been seated than servants began to flood the room, bearing platters and dishes that transformed the table into a landscape of culinary artistry. The spread before us was nothing short of magnificent—a feast fit for the most discerning of palates, demon or human.
Platters heaped with roasted meats glistened in their own juices, their aromas mingling tantalizingly with the scent of freshly baked bread. Bowls of vibrant vegetables, still steaming from the kitchen, sat alongside exotic fruits arranged like jewels on silver trays. A suckling pig, golden-brown and adorned with an apple in its mouth, held court at the center of the table. Crystal decanters filled with rich, dark wines caught the light, promising indulgence with every pour.
As we prepared to begin our meal, Grand Duke Ignatius turned to me with a mischievous glint in his feline eyes. “So, Lady Robin,” he began, a smirk dancing on his lips, “how do you prefer your steak? Rare, medium, or well done?”
A wave of heat flooded my cheeks as the memory of my arrival at Argentum Keep came rushing back. The room erupted into laughter at the jest, a sound that should have been intimidating but instead felt almost… welcoming.
I cleared my throat, determined to maintain some semblance of dignity. “Medium rare, Your Grace,” I replied, my voice steady despite the blush that lingered on my skin.
No sooner had the words left my lips than a servant appeared at my side, presenting me with a steak cooked to perfection—pink at its heart and encased in a seared crust that promised flavor in every bite. I thanked him with a nod before taking up my knife and fork with a flourish that I hoped hid my trembling hands. The first bite was a revelation, the flavors melting on my tongue. I couldn’t suppress the small sound of appreciation that escaped me.
As we ate, the conversation flowed with surprising ease, filled with wit and humor that I hadn’t expected from such powerful beings. The duke, seemingly mindful of my presence, steered the discussion toward lighter topics that allowed me to participate.
Grand Duke Ignatius turned to the duke, a mischievous glint in his amber eyes. “Speaking of celebrations, Darius, will your brother Caelum be gracing us with his presence at the wedding?”
The duke’s golden eyes narrowed slightly at his friend. “Knowing Caelum, he’ll likely show up without an invitation, much like someone else I know.” He gave Ignatius a pointed look.
Grand Duke Ignatius grinned, unabashed. “Guilty as charged. But you can hardly blame me for being excited about my best friend’s nuptials.”
“So, we should expect to see the young demon soon, then?” Sir Zephyr interjected, his midnight-blue skin shimmering in the candlelight.
My curiosity piqued, I couldn’t help but ask, “Caelum? Who’s that?”
Sir Vex, his forked tongue flicking slightly, answered before the duke could. “Lord Caelum is His Grace’s younger brother, my lady. Younger by a few centuries, in fact, due to his egg lacking in magical energy during development.”
I blinked, processing this information. “Egg? Are demons actually born from eggs?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I immediately felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
To my surprise, instead of taking offense, the table erupted in good-natured laughter. Even the duke’s lips quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
Sir Thorne said, “Only some of us, Lady Robin. Most demons are born naturally, much like humans. But in rare cases, particularly with very powerful demons, offspring can emerge from magical eggs.”
“It’s a fascinating process,” Sir Orion added, his icy tone thawing slightly. “The eggs absorb magical energy over centuries before hatching. Lord Caelum’s took a bit longer than usual, hence the age gap between him and His Grace.”
I nodded, utterly fascinated by this glimpse into demon biology. “That’s incredible. I’d love to learn more about it someday.”
The duke raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps we can arrange for you to meet Caelum when he arrives. He’s quite knowledgeable about demon lore and would no doubt be delighted to satisfy your curiosity.”
“Speaking of satisfying curiosity,” Grand Duke Ignatius chimed in, his eyes twinkling with mischief once more, “I’m rather disappointed, Darius. You’ve yet to show Lady Robin your infamous collection of ancient armors.”
I perked up, intrigued. “Ancient armors, Your Grace?”
The duke’s eyes narrowed at his friend again. “Ignis exaggerates. It’s merely a modest collection of historical battle gear.”
The grand duke’s laughter boomed once more. “Modest? Ha! The last time I checked, it occupied an entire wing of the castle!”
Unable to resist, I quipped, “I do hope none of them come to life at night or require their own battalions to move.”
The table erupted in laughter again, and I felt a warm glow of pride at having contributed to the merriment. The duke’s expression softened slightly, and I could have sworn I saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
“I assure you, Lady Robin,” he said dryly, “any rumors of animated armors are greatly exaggerated. Though I must admit, there is one particularly cumbersome suit that requires two attendants to assist in donning.”
Grand Duke Ignatius leaned toward me conspiratorially. “You should have seen him at the last Demon Lords’ Council. He wore this massive, spiked pauldron set and kept accidentally impaling the curtains every time he turned!”
The duke shot Ignatius a look that might have withered a lesser demon, but there was a hint of fondness beneath the exasperation. “I’ll have you know that particular armor set has historical significance. It belonged to the great demon general Malachar during the Third Realm War.”
I was genuinely curious. “That sounds fascinating, Your Grace. I’d love to see this collection someday, if you’d allow it.”
The duke’s golden eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something—surprise? pleasure?—before his usual composure returned. “Perhaps I could give you a tour sometime,” he offered, his tone casual but his gaze intent.
My heart fluttered at the prospect of spending even more time with the duke. “I’d be honored, Your Grace,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray my excitement.
As the laughter subsided, I began to relax, drawn into their surprisingly jovial dynamic. It was strange to see these powerful demons bantering like old friends, so different from the stern, authoritarian atmosphere of my father’s court.
“I must admit,” I ventured, seizing a moment of relative quiet, “I’m quite curious about the city. I’ve heard so much about the markets and the silver fountains.”
The duke’s expression softened further. “Perhaps we can arrange a tour soon. The city is quite beautiful, especially in the morning light.”
Sir Fenris nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, you must see the Silver Quarter at dawn, my lady. The way the light catches the fountains is truly breathtaking.”
“And the scent of fresh bread from the bakeries!” Sir Thorne added, his eyes glazing over slightly. “There’s nothing quite like it in all of Aethoria.”
Suddenly, the duke’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Speaking of mornings, I recall you mentioned enjoying horseback riding. Would you care to join me for a ride tomorrow morning? The trails around the keep are particularly lovely this time of year.”
My heart skipped a beat at the prospect of spending time alone with the duke. Part of me hesitated, still wary of this powerful demon lord. But another part—a growing part—was intrigued. Besides, I reminded myself, we’re to be husband and wife soon. I need to get used to his company.
“I would be delighted, Your Grace,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray my mix of excitement and nervousness.
The grand duke clapped his hands together. “Splendid! Nothing like a morning ride to get to know one another. Just be sure to return her in one piece, Darius. No impromptu demon lord training sessions, if you please.”
Duke Darius’ gaze turned icy enough to rival Sir Orion’s wintry touch, but Grand Duke Ignatius seemed as unaffected as if he’d been praised. The grand duke’s unabashed grin never wavered, and I couldn’t help but admire his gall.
The dinner continued, a lively affair that seemed to grow more boisterous with each course. The wine, a rich, heady vintage, certainly played its part in loosening my inhibitions. I eased into the conversation, the earlier tightness in my chest giving way to a warm buzz that dulled my usual wariness. Through it all, I could feel Duke Darius’ golden eyes on me, a presence that was becoming disturbingly familiar, and perhaps a little comforting.
As the evening wore on, my curiosity about these powerful beings grew, and with it, my appetite. The food was delectable, each dish more exquisite than the last. I cleaned my plate with abandon, relishing every morsel. It wasn’t until Sir Vex leaned in with a sly grin that I realized I might have overindulged.
“My lady,” he said, “for someone so delicately built, you possess the appetite of a dragon.”
Heat crept up my cheeks as Sir Thorne chimed in, his booming voice carrying across the table. “Indeed, Lady Robin! I dare say you’ve outeaten me this evening, and that’s saying something!”
I regarded the massive demon with a mixture of surprise and bemusement. Had I truly eaten more than this mountain of a demon? It was a revelation. Back at Aldercrest, I had grown accustomed to taking what little I could, often going to bed with a gnawing hunger. Here, in the duke’s grand hall, surrounded by abundance, I found myself finally sating an appetite I hadn’t known I possessed.
Duke Darius, catching the tail end of the conversation, offered a chuckle that rumbled like distant thunder. “It’s good to see a healthy appetite, Lady Robin. It’s a sign of good health and vitality.”
Grand Duke Ignatius, ever the instigator, couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire. “But surely, my dear, you must fear for your figure? All women do, or so I’ve been told.”
I met his teasing gaze with a shake of my head, lifting my chin defiantly. “Fear not for my figure, Your Grace. My metabolism rivals that of the fae folk. I could feast every night and still remain as slender as a reed.”
The table erupted in laughter once more, and I couldn’t help but join in. It was strange, this camaraderie that seemed to be forming among us. Stranger still was how right it felt, despite the underlying deception that shadowed my every interaction.
When the feast had reached its conclusion and the final plates were cleared away, the duke rose from his chair with a grace that belied his formidable size. He offered me his hand, the gesture both courtly and possessive. “Lady Robin, allow me to escort you back to your chambers.”
My heart, which had been happily beating in time with the lively conversation, now resumed its erratic drumming. As we exited the grand hall, his hand tightened around my arm, a silent promise of protection—or perhaps a silent claim. I couldn’t tell which, and the ambiguity made my pulse flutter with anticipation.
To my surprise, instead of leading me to the bedroom I had come to think of as my own, Duke Darius steered me toward the castle’s inner courtyard. The night air was cool and fragrant, filled with the scent of blooming blossoms and the soft, earthy perfume of the gardens after rain. Moonlight bathed the scene in silver, casting shadows and turning the dew-drenched petals into shimmering jewels. Fireflies danced around us, their tiny lights winking in and out of existence like the stars come down to play.
I gasped, unable to contain my wonder at the ethereal beauty that surrounded us. “It’s… it’s magical,” I breathed.
The duke’s hand came up to cup my face, turning me gently to meet his gaze. His golden eyes held mine, intense and unreadable. I opened my mouth to speak, to ask what he was thinking, but before I could form the words, his lips crashed against mine.
The sudden contact sent a jolt through my body, my eyes widening in surprise. This was no gentle, exploratory kiss like before. This was hunger, raw and unrestrained. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, his tongue seeking entrance. Without conscious thought, my lips parted, allowing him in.
The taste of him was intoxicating—rich wine mingled with something darker, more primal. His tongue swept into my mouth, exploring, claiming. I gasped against him, the sound swallowed by our kiss. My mind reeled, struggling to process the sensations flooding through me.
I should have been frightened. I should have pulled away. But as the duke’s arms encircled me, drawing me flush against his body, I melted into him instead. My hands, seemingly of their own volition, clutched at his shoulders, desperate for an anchor in this storm of sensation.
The world around us faded away. There was only this—the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his body against mine, the thundering of my heart. I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care. Breathing seemed inconsequential compared to the feel of his lips, the slide of his tongue against mine.
As the kiss deepened, a warmth spread through me, pooling low in my belly. It was a sensation I’d never experienced before, both thrilling and terrifying in its intensity. Part of me wanted to run, to hide from these overwhelming feelings. But a larger part—a part I barely recognized—never wanted this moment to end.
When the duke finally pulled away, I felt bereft, swaying slightly on my feet. His arms tightened around me, steadying me. I blinked up at him, dazed, my lips tingling from the force of his kiss.
His voice, when he spoke, was a low rumble. “I find I am eagerly anticipating our wedding night, Lady Robin.”
The words pierced through the haze of sensation, reality crashing back in. My eyes widened, a tumult of emotions washing over me—fear, anticipation, confusion, and something else I couldn’t quite name.
“I… I must retire now, Your Grace,” I stammered, pulling away from his embrace. “I find I am quite exhausted.”
Without waiting for his response, I turned and fled, my heart pounding in my chest and my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. As I raced back to the sanctuary of my chambers, I could feel the ghost of his kiss on my lips, the phantom pressure of his body against mine.
I burst into my room, slamming the door behind me and sliding down to the floor. My breath came in ragged gasps, my whole body trembling. Slowly, I raised a hand to my lips, tracing them gently. They felt swollen, sensitive to even that light touch.
My mind was a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The duke was dangerous, I knew that. He was a demon, powerful beyond measure, and I was deceiving him in the worst possible way. And yet… the memory of his kiss sent a shiver through me, a warmth blooming in my chest.
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the door. The duke’s face swam before me—those intense golden eyes, the curve of his lips, the strength in his arms as he held me. A small, traitorous part of me wished I was still there, in the moonlit courtyard, wrapped in his embrace.
“What am I doing?” I whispered to the empty room, but no answer came. Only the lingering taste of the duke’s kiss and the unsettling realization that, despite everything, a part of me was looking forward to our next encounter.