Saphira's breath hitched as she understood his hidden meaning perfectly.
A cold knot tightened in her stomach, but defiance was a luxury no child of Kaelgor could afford. Her usefulness was her only guarantee of survival, and now her father had found a new use for her.
Various murmurs of surprise and schadenfreude echoed in the forge.
"Do you understand?" Kaelgor's deep voice cut through the sound.
She swallowed, her pride screaming in silent protest, but her survival instincts were louder. She bowed her head deeper, trying her best to hide her true emotions.
"I understand, Father. I will not fail."
"See that you don't," He said, turning away as if dismissing a servant.
The dismissal absolute, and it carved a deeper wound into Saphira's spirit than any physical blow could.
"We set off tomorrow…" He paused for an instant, "Your value to this family depends on it."
And with that, he was gone, leaving his daughter standing alone in the firelight, her beautiful face a mask of conflicted fear and a simmering rage.
She was a payment, a sacrificial lamb delivered to secure her father's profit.
The game of devils spared no one.
The sound of Kaelgor's retreating footsteps, each one a heavy, final clank of abyssal steel boots on cracked volcanic rock, echoed like a death knell in the silent hall.
He did not look back.
There was no paternal blessing, no word of caution or encouragement. She was a bill he had payed in advance, a chess piece moved, and his attention had already shifted to the next calculation.
Thinking of meeting with his most loyal servants and seeing how their movement of resources was going.
A cold, grim understanding settled over Saphira, extinguishing the last embers of childish hope or filial loyalty.
'Family, huh.' She thought in spite.
She was not his daughter, she was his leverage...
For a long moment, she stood frozen, the weight of the command pressing down on her.
The air, thick with the scent of ash and forge smoke, felt suffocating.
Then, she became aware of the eyes upon her. They were the familiar, yet now alien stares of her own subordinates.
The handful or so of lesser devils, half-breed siblings, and peak-tier demons who had answered to her, who had trained under her command, now formed a loose, silent circle around her.
Their expressions were a complex mixture of pity, curiosity, and a hungry, opportunistic gleam. Her authority, which had been a blade over their necks just moments ago, had evaporated the instant her father's will and commands had superseded her own.
Now, she was no longer their commander.
A hot flush of humiliation crept up her neck, warming the crimson skin of her cheeks. The delicate, almost fragile beauty of her face, a face that held the haughty, untested pride of a princess, now felt like a mockery.
It was the very asset for which she was being traded…
Her fists clenched at her sides, the soft, unblemished skin of her knuckles stretching taut.
Without a word, her rage filled gaze swept over the encircling figures with a look of cold contempt that made a few of them flinch and lower their eyes.
She was the only high-tier devil there; the only true blood, unlike her mixed race siblings.
Her status might have been dissipated, but her strength was still there.
Seeing their pathetic cowardice, she turned her body away, the movements stiff, yet regal even in her defeat.
She began to walk.
The circle parted before her, a sea of silent, watching faces.
The journey to her 'room', a word that now felt like a grotesque joke, was a walk of shame through the heart of the base, of the only home she had ever known.
She moved through the torch-lit corridors of the fortress, past leering guards and whispering servants.
Gossip and rumors always seemed to travel exceptionally fast here…
The simple, leather armor she wore, which had once felt like a badge of her superior lineage and status, now felt flimsy and exposing, clinging to the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips with every step.
She felt utterly naked, her body already being visually appraised by those who were smart enough to understand Kaelgor's implications; who knew of her new purpose.
She finally reached the heavy iron-reinforced door to her chambers.
Pushing it open, she stepped inside and slammed it shut behind her, the boom a futile expression of her rage.
Saphira stood frozen in the heart of what she had, with a child's naivety, called her 'home'.
It was a cavern carved from black volcanic rock within Kaelgor's main fortress, sparsely furnished with few trophies of her conquests: banners made of flayed skin, grotesquely-horned skulls, and unique bones of fallen foes.
The room was as she had left it: simple and clean, dominated by a large bed piled with furs.
It was dull and lacked warmth, but it was hers.
Or so she had thought.
Sinking onto the edge of the bed, the soft furs a stark contrast to the hardness in her heart, Saphira finally allowed the mask to crack.
A single, hot tear fell from her eye, tracing a path down her cheek.
Though, it was not of sadness, but instead of pure frustrated fury; the feeling of overwhelming rage, but having no outlet to release. A screech was trapped in her throat, and her body trembled as she desired to destroy her room and then kill her father rose within her.
"Sigh~" But it was quickly wiped away: both the tear and her emotions.
Crying was a luxury for mortals.
She was a devil.
She had let herself indulge a bit in her stifled emotions, but she was experienced enough to control them from getting out of hand: something all devils must learn to master.
She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds before opening them once again with a renewed light; a cold, deadly light.
Her mind emotionlessly dissected the information that she had obtained.
She had to submit to this unknown character, to be a pawn. There was also heavy implications that she would offer her body to this individual.
'Most likely for my primal yin.' Saphira quickly deciphered.
Physical submission was one thing, but to conquer her mind… the will of a devil?
She hasn't given her virginity, but it wasn't like she had much attachment to it either. It was nothing but a resource for herself too.
The game was far from over; it had simply shifted from past plans.
Still, the command delivered directly by her intimidating father's own mouth, felt like a physical blow to Saphira's very core.
'Submit.'
It was not a request; it was an edict, a compulsion that wove into her mind and coiled around her sense of self.
It was Kaelgor's unmistakable will that was engraved into her.
The difficulty to brand ones own child was much less work than that of a stranger; the imprinting being able to start since the moment of birth.
A tremor of pure, undiluted rebellion shook her slender frame.
Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles white.
'Submit?' Saphira stood, her seductive, red flesh lit dimly by the walls torches.
The word was an obscenity, a repulsion to her inborn pride and wrath. She was a pure-blooded devil, not some common demon to be gifted like a trinket!
Her mind, sharp and cunning despite her youth, raced, trying to find another angle to the whole ordeal.