Morning came with a gentle warmth. The sun in the sky above the demon realm was a sickly thing—pale streams of light shining over the land.
Joshua turned slowly, his eyes drifting open, and was met with a tangled mess of red hair. It smelled sweet, like the scent of lavender.
Lysandra's mask of discipline and control was gone in her sleep. In front of the prince was not the warrior he had come to know, but a beautiful girl laying unguarded.
Why does she look so…
Shaking his head, the man didn't want to see where those thoughts led. He rose quietly and moved towards the door.
A walk through the hollowed grounds would be good for clearing my head. I still feel like I haven't fully caught up to everything that's happened these past few days.
As he reached the door handle, he heard a faint, soft sound from inside the cabin—a sleepy murmur that sounded foreign from the princess.
Lysandra came awake in two stages. First, a confused sigh escaped her lips.
Then she sat up abruptly, rubbing her eyes with both hands in a gesture so undignified and domestic, that Joshua could do nothing but stare.
"Vh'yla?" she mumbled, her voice thick and slow, completely different from the "princess" he'd spoken just the night before. The words were slurred, soft, and sweet. "Did the sun come up? I feel like I haven't sle... slept in a decade."
She blinked heavily, disorientation clouding her scarlet eyes. She looked around the sparse cabin, finally spotting Joshua standing by the door, fully dressed and waiting.
"Joshua?" she whispered, clumsily, as she leaned forward. The movement caused her loose sleeping garment to fall slightly, revealing the gentle curve of her cleavage.
She seemed genuine instead of calculating, completely unaware of how the morning light caught the swell of her breasts. "You're… awake. That's... good."
Why is she adorable when half-asleep?
"I'm glad you're able to relax around me Princess."
But then Lysandra registered her surroundings. She looked down at the simple, dark sleeping garment she wore—the contrast between this attire and the formal crimson she wore yesterday was jarring.
She registered her own messy hair, the fact that she looked thoroughly undignified.
Her whole body snapped rigid. Her eyes widened in panic.
"Gods—!" she hissed, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson that rivaled her hair. She wheeled around instantly, shoving Joshua out of the cabin, and slammed the door shut.
A minute later Lysandra threw the door open again, now dressed in her usual princess armor and dress; The one she had worn on the first day Joshua saw her.
The transition was instantaneous and brutal. The vulnerable girl was gone.
"Joshua Vale," she clipped out, her voice instantly regaining its flawless, cold command, the slurring entirely erased. "Today we head to the rift. The royal council will be addressing the people today in regards to our trial. We will be seeing it through."
"Right away, Princess," Joshua confirmed, trying to process the whiplash of Lysandra's sudden change.
I wanted to speak to the cute version of Lysandra just a little longer.
The prince sighed, slumping his shoulders while looking at her with a pitiful expression.
"Whatever you're thinking Joshua, stop. We aren't here to play—" Her brows curved downward. "Hey—! Why are you smiling. Did I jest? Where is the humor in my words?"
"No, no, no," Joshua said, shaking his head. He sighed, letting his shoulders slump slightly as he looked at her with a pitiful, defeated gaze. "I was just thinking about how cute my wife is."
Lysandra's expression darkened, but her composure held. "Do not tempt me, Prince. You survived the night. Do not push your luck outside of it."
"Noted," Joshua replied easily.
***
The journey back to the city was swift with little exchanged between the princess and the prince.
By the time they reached the main citadel, the atmosphere was buzzing with chatter of the kingdom's citizens.
The court had assembled in the Grand Plaza, gathered around a massive, churning vortex of purple and black energy: the Rift of Severance.
Joshua felt the weight of hundreds of stares pricking into him like needles. They were not here to root for him in the slightest. A human becoming demon royalty was different. And different was… dangerous.
The Demon King, Darius, stood at the center, his face set in a look of profound disgust as Lysandra approached. High Counselor Vaelthar hovered nearby.
"Daughter," Darius rumbled, cutting clean and sharp through the plaza noise. "Your first official act as my heir was to uphold the most idiotic pact in our history, then spare the offering. You are reducing the Crown to a mockery."
A collective, dangerous hiss rose from the masses—a sound far more unnerving than shouting.
"The Veil of Concord demands truth. And I have made my decision." Lysandra replied, her voice ringing clear and imperious, easily silencing the nearest groups. "He passes by my word."
Darius offered a cold, humorless smile. "We shall see the security of your judgment. My Lords are already settling wagers." He gestured toward the amassed nobility.
A Councilor near the front adjusted his spectacles, his voice measured and professional. "Fifty scales wagered. The human dies precisely within the Trial of Flesh. His human heart will not withstand it for a moment."
A cloaked Warlord next to him nodded agreement. "My entire company on it. The Princess returns alone."
"Silence," Darius commanded, pulling the focus back to himself. He did not raise his voice; he simply spoke with the authority of absolute power. "Your choice, Lysandra, suggests that I have failed as a father. When the human dies, I will ensure that the noble counsel properly reeducates you into a demon fit to rule. It is an insult to our strength that this human is even here. "
Darius turned his cold, amber eyes directly onto Joshua. "You are a thin excuse for a warrior. Did you, human, truly believe your mere survival through a dinner party makes you worthy of these Trials?"
Joshua met the King's eyes. "I intend to prove the Princess's judgment correct, Your Majesty. I only need a chance."
Darius dismissed him with a subtle tilt of his head, as one dismisses a troublesome insect. "This chance will be your coffin."
Lysandra leaned in close, her voice a low, burning whisper for Joshua's ears only. "Do not disgrace me in there, Joshua. Prove them wrong for your sake, but more importantly, for mine. I cannot have my future people doubt my convictions."
"I made a promise to return to Arial," Joshua said quietly, meeting her gaze, his own conviction iron-hard. "I intend to keep it."
He knew this was their point of no return. His heart hammered from the immense weight of expectation Lysandra had just laid on his shoulders. He was not just fighting for himself anymore; he was fighting to validate her authority.
Lysandra stepped toward the Rift. "Enter," she commanded.
Joshua nodded. He inhaled deeply, drawing courage from the clean, cold air before it was replaced by the acrid ozone of the Rift.
This is it. Whatever "this" is.
He strode with unyielding resolve toward the tear in existence.
A flash of violet and black engulfed them both. The sounds of the demons faded away in a blur into nothing.