CHAPTER EIGHT
Damiel and Reyna walked towards the exits, an obsidian carved door, with red sigils.
When the great obsidian doors closed behind them, Reyna realized they were walking farther—away from the noise, away from the towers crowded with nobles and slaves. The night air was sharp, cold enough to sting her lungs, and the courtyard beyond the palace gates stretched wide and empty.
Waiting at the edge of the stone path was a carriage.
Not drawn by horses.
Reyna stopped as she saw it,
The beasts hitched to it were massive—creatures of muscle and ancient power. Their hides were obsidian-black, patterned with faint silver veins that pulsed slowly, like living runes beneath skin. Six-legged, broad-chested, with horned skulls and eyes that glowed dimly like dying stars, they breathed mist into the night. Their tails ended in bladed ridges, scraping softly against stone as they shifted.
They were war-beasts.
The carriage itself was forged of gold and silver interwoven—etched with sigils, its wheels rimmed in pale steel, the interior shadowed behind silk curtains embroidered with ancient demon script.
Damiel stepped into it without pause.
Reyna hesitated.
She looked down at herself—mud streaking the hem of her once-white dress, stains on her hands, dirt smudged faintly along her cheek. She felt suddenly too filthy for something so flawless.
Damiel looked at her, voice low and cold.
"What are you waiting for human," he said coolly, "or do you prefer a written invitation in?"
Her breath caught.
Heat rushed to her face as she hurried forward, climbing into the carriage. She settled quickly at the far left, folding her hands in her lap, grabbing some of her stained cloth in her hand, head bowed.
Damiel sat opposite her, at the far right—still, composed, silver eyes unreadable.
The beasts moved.
The carriage glided forward smoothly, silent except for the rhythmic scrape of claws against stone.
Reyna kept her head down.
The ride felt endless.
She thought of the rumors whispered aboard the slave ship—how King Eldron had abandoned his own son in a shed meant for broken tools, as if an interpretation of how unwanted Damiel was to him. How the child had been left alone, unfed, untouched. How that same shed had grown—stone by stone—into the greatest stronghold Avalon or even all six realms had ever known.
Her heart ached.
How lonely he must have been, she thought. How cruel his family are.
The carriage did not slow.
If his father had cast him away so far… how far had Damiel gone to build this place?
She was so lost in thought she didn't notice Damiel watching her.
His expression unreasonable,and cold.
Reyna looked up, as the carriage slowed down a hill,
And gasped.
The castle rose before them—vast, impossible, forged entirely of gold. Not gilded. Solid. Towering spires caught the moonlight and reflected it back in blinding brilliance. The gates were carved from pale metal veined with shadow, sigils glowing softly.
Gardens stretched beyond the walls—flowers with silver and black petals bloomed in unnatural symmetry, their scent sharp and metallic.
The air itself felt like him.
Cold. Powerful. Beautiful.
They entered the gates, and stopped in front of the huge castle, damiel came down first, as Reyna followed behind him.
Guards lined the path, armored in black and crimson, heads bowed low as Damiel descended. Others marched slowly along the paths, they all greeted Damiel with a deep bow, as he walked by, weapons clashing faintly somewhere far within the grounds.
Damiel walked ahead without looking back.
Reyna followed, head bowed.
Every gaze turned toward her.
A human.
In his castle.
This place was not like the main palace—there were no chains, no pens of slaves. Damiel surrounded himself with demons only. Strong. Unbreakable. Unfragile.
She was not one of them, and they could smell it from a mile away.
Inside, the castle was vast and spaced—vaulted ceilings, black stone floors veined with gold, columns carved with ancient battles and demon kings. Torches burned with pale blue flame.
Damiel stopped suddenly.
Reyna nearly collided with his back.
She gasped, stumbling to a halt.
He turned.
She was small before him. Fragile. Dirt-streaked. Human.
"Roan."
The name echoed through the air.
Roan appeared instantly from the shadows, materializing at Damiel's side. Reyna flinched, stepping back instinctively.
"Take her to Inez," Damiel said calmly. "She'll know what to do."
Inez.
The woman who had defied Queen Alvira.
When Damiel had been left alone in that shed, when no one dared approach him, due to Queen Alvira order, King Eldron had called for maids.
All had hidden.
Only Inez had stepped forward.
She had endured punishment. Threats. Scorn.
And never once left his side.
Now she ruled the affairs of the castle.
Roan nodded.
Damiel glanced once more at Reyna as she recoiled from even Roan's presence.
"Try not to let her die," he added dryly. "Before you get there."
Roan blinked.
He didn't know if that sarcasm, or an order, but with Damiel it was always both.
Damiel turned and walked away first.
Roan led Reyna through the inner corridors, past carved doors and archways etched with runes. His usual grin had vanished, replaced with thoughtful silence.
Nothing, he realized.
No thoughts.
No noise.
Is there a human who doesn't think?
They reached the kitchen.
It was immense—stone ovens glowing, long tables laden with herbs, spices, and kitchen utensils, servants moving in perfect rhythm. Warmth filled the space, as the rich aroma of food filled the air
And at its center stood Inez.
She was impossible to miss.
Her hair was long and red, falling to her waist like living flame. Her eyes—deep crimson—watched everything. Her skin was pale, flawless. Her nose delicate. A small wrinkle was at the side of her eyes as she smiled, Her lashes long and dark, fluttering softly as she spoke.
Reyna couldn't understand how someone could look so young and ancient at the same time.
Her presence was calm, commanding, steady.
The moment Reyna entered, whispers stirred.
Human.
Beautiful—and that made it worse.
Roan stepped forward. "Inez."
She turned and smiled.
"Roan dear," she said warmly.
She had cared for him once too—when Damiel had brought the half-frozen boy into the palace. Fed him. Taught him. Scolded him.
"What brings you here?"
"Prince Damiel asked me to bring her, to you, " he said, gesturing to Reyna. "he said you'll know what to do."
Inez studied Reyna for a short time.
Then smiled gently.
"You can go," she told Roan. "I'll take care of her."
Roan glanced at Reyna once more thoughtfully, then turned and left.
"I'm Inez," she said kindly. "Keeper of this castle."
"Reyna," Reyna replied softly, head bowed.
"Come. Let's get you cleaned up."
Reyna followed gratefully. She felt dirty and sticky all over, and her muddy dress made her feel more inferior than she should have.
"Go on with your chores, everyone, I'll be back soon". Inez said softly, as she gestured for Reyna to follow her.
"Yes,High Steward",They chorused.
They walked through the kitchen to the other side, and passed through a door into open air—low grasses, cool wind, fresher than anything Reyna had breathed in years.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Inez asked as Reyna nodded, realizing she couldn't see her since she was behind ,she responded with a simple.
"Yes, high steward." Reyna replied quietly.
They walked a bit further into the other side of the castle, smaller than the rest,—stone walls, evenly spaced doors at each side of the long hallway, torchlight glowing softly.
Inez stopped at the last door on the hallway on the left, with a black door, she took out a set of keys from her apron, and unlocked the door.
"This will be your room."
It was small. Simple. Clean.
Reyna's chest tightened—memories of sleeping on the porch in Asheville, flooded in, her stepmother had given her room to her daughter, when her died, and she wasn't allowed to sleep, in any room in the house.
Inez walked to the chest on the corner of the room, and pulled out the uniform and a towel, Reyna accepted them gratefully.
Let's get you to the bathhouse, Inez said, as they walked out of the room, they walked silently to the back of the building.
The bathhouse was a black small stone structure, steam rising gently. Warm water. Herbs.
"Wait here, I'll go get you somethings for your skin and body", Inez said as she left and returned later, with some herbs, for her skin, and oil, and a comb, Reyna thanked her gratefully as she took them.
"I'll head back first, come meet me in the kitchen when you're done", Inez said as Reyna, nodded.
When Inez left, Reyna was grateful for privacy and glad no other demons were there, Reyna took the black stone and used it to clean her body carefully, letting the dirt wash away. She dressed in the clean white garment, red trim resting lightly on her shoulders.
She felt… more relieved.
Returning to the kitchen, the room stilled.
Gasps followed her.
The dress was plain but Reyna was not.
Jealousy rippled.
One demon maid—once the most admired—scoffed sharply.
"A prey being prepared finely for a hunt?"
Laughter followed.
Inez's gaze snapped.
"Enough."
Silence fell.
"Come, dear," she said, guiding Reyna to a stool. "You must be hungry."
She set before her porridge and bread—warm, rich, filling.
The best food Reyna had eaten since her father died.
She ate quickly, as though the food would disappear at any time.
And from across the room, bitter eyes watched, with envy, and cold conspiracy.