The castle had grown quieter in recent days. Lyra and Elara had settled into their roles, moving cautiously through halls that no longer seemed entirely hostile. Kaelis maintained her rigorous training schedules, keeping Ruria's wards alert, disciplined, and alive. Yet for all the order, one presence loomed over the household more than any trophy, dragon, or defeated king: Vaelor.
Ruria had learned, slowly, to recognize the weight of his gaze even when it was not directed at her. She had grown bolder, braver, more daring in his presence. And now, for the first time, she felt an irresistible pull to act on the boldness that had been simmering inside her for weeks.
But the castle gates opened one afternoon, and a new figure arrived—one that immediately made her blood tighten with a mixture of irritation and fascination.
The Demon Princess.
She was unlike anything Ruria had expected. Pale violet skin, long, flowing hair that shimmered between silver and lavender depending on the light, and eyes that glimmered with mischief and subtle danger. Her horns curled delicately back, adorned with tiny golden bands. She wore light armor and silks, moving with a confidence that marked her as both noble and dangerous.
Her voice carried a musical lilt as she spoke. "Vaelor," she purred, stepping forward, eyes immediately locking onto him. "I've come to see you. I've heard so much about the man who commands the dead and bends dragons without touching them."
Vaelor's crimson eyes lifted lazily. "I see," he said, tone flat but carrying the faintest glint of amusement.
The princess stepped closer, her wings slightly unfurling, giving her an almost predatory grace. She smiled, radiant yet challenging. "They say you are untouchable, unyielding, unshakable. And yet… here I am."
Ruria, standing nearby, clenched her fists. Her pulse spiked. Jealousy, sharp and sudden, coursed through her. She had faced dragons, fought monsters, survived ambushes—but this… this was different. This was a rival, a threat, and Vaelor did not even flinch.
The Demon Princess, whose name was Selindra, had a tendency to hover around Vaelor constantly. She commented on his posture, his rare smiles, and even the angle of his crimson eyes when he examined others.
Vaelor, in his usual controlled fashion, responded to none of it overtly. Yet his presence alone seemed to both command her attention and frustrate her subtle attempts to cling closer.
Ruria watched, a strange mixture of awe, anger, and jealousy twisting her chest. She realized then that her feelings for Vaelor had deepened far beyond admiration or loyalty—they had become possessive, fierce, and undeniably
That night, when the castle had grown quiet and Vaelor retired to his chambers, Ruria waited outside his door. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Kaelis, Lyra, and Elara had long since gone to their rooms. The castle, even with its darkened halls and intimidating decor, felt different at night. Quieter. Intimate. Vulnerable in ways Vaelor never truly allowed himself to be.
She entered, soft and silent. Vaelor sat near the fire, cloak draped over his shoulders, crimson eyes glinting even in the dim light.
"You're awake," he said calmly, voice like a blade.
"I couldn't sleep," Ruria said, stepping closer. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the quiet power coiled in his muscles. Her hands trembled slightly. "I… I wanted to see you."
Vaelor's gaze studied her, unblinking. "You are bold tonight," he observed.
Ruria stepped closer, reaching for his hand. He did not flinch. "I want… I want to be closer," she admitted, voice low, almost breathless. "I want… to claim something that is mine. Even if you don't give it willingly."
Vaelor tilted his head, intrigued. "And what is it that you think is yours?"
Her hands lifted, brushing the collar of his cloak, fingertips grazing the warmth of his neck. "You," she whispered.
They moved slowly. Every touch, every breath, every heartbeat became a negotiation. Vaelor's crimson eyes never left hers, observing her reactions, testing her boldness, pushing her limits. And yet, he did not stop her, did not push her away. He let her act, let her take initiative, all while maintaining that invisible boundary only he could define.
Hours passed in a quiet tension. Finally, Ruria spoke, voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and courage.
"Vaelor… we should know… each other," she said softly. "Your age. Mine."
Vaelor blinked, just slightly. "Curious," he murmured. "I assumed you knew."
"I'm twenty-six," she admitted, voice steady despite her racing heart.
He let that hang in the air a moment, then, faintly amused, he said, "And I am nineteen."
Ruria froze. Nineteen. The man who had bent armies, tamed dragons, subdued demons, and claimed lands alone—was nineteen.
Her jaw dropped slightly, disbelief battling admiration. "Nineteen?" she breathed.
Vaelor inclined his head, crimson eyes glinting. "Power does not correlate with age. Influence does not bend to numbers."
Her chest tightened. The reality of his youth, juxtaposed with his absolute control over the world and over her heart, made her pulse quicken.
Selindra's presence in the castle now became a new, subtle threat. She lingered near Vaelor in the corridors, laughing softly at jokes that Ruria did not fully understand. She watched him with obvious admiration, a predator in her own right.
Ruria's jealousy simmered, sharp and unrelenting. Yet in the quiet moments, when the castle was theirs alone, Vaelor allowed her boldness, her daring, her claim. He allowed her to explore, to test boundaries, to assert herself.
The night ended with both of them lying near the fire, Ruria's head on his chest, listening to the quiet, steady rhythm of his heart. Vaelor's hand rested lightly on hers, his fingers brushing occasionally, teasing, measuring, observing, and letting her know that he was aware of every thought and reaction—but would never give more than he intended.
Ruria realized something dangerous:
Selindra was a threat. Lyra and Elara were learning. Kaelis was growing stronger. And Vaelor, while allowing intimacy, remained a man whose power and teasing patience could crush kingdoms—or hearts—at will.
Her jealousy was fierce, but her boldness had grown even fiercer. And with Vaelor's subtle encouragement, his quiet amusement, and the dark, intoxicating intimacy they shared, Ruria felt herself rising to meet him—not as a subject, not as a ward, but as a partner in danger, power, and desire.
The castle now contained more than trophies and shadows. It held jealousy, desire, challenge, and connection—all of it intertwined with the cruel, controlled, irresistible man who ruled over them.