Joshua's breath cut off.
Hate them? The question shouldn't have rattled the prince so hard. But something inside of him ignited — a feeling he'd been neglecting, shoving into the corners of his mind.
Lysandra took a single step closer.
"I don't want the 'royal' answer," she said. "Don't be polite. Just tell me exactly how you feel about them."
The restraints groaned around his wrists. "I don't know," he managed.
Lysandra believed none of it.
"Then think," she said. "For once, think about yourself," she directed, slowly circling the bed. The way her heels tapped against the polished stone echoed softly off of the walls.
"Your kingdom dressed betrayal as duty. Your father, the Arialian king upheld the pact that demanded a sacrifice. And when it came time to choose who to send..." Her finger traced the metal cuff around his wrist. "They chose you."
Joshua's jaw tightened. "Because I'm the third prince— Because the law—"
"Don't insult me by reciting doctrine," she snapped. "Tradition claims any child after the firstborn can be sent to preserve this 'peace.' You weren't the youngest though, were you?"
Joshua's expression darkened. "I had two younger than me."
"Yes, you did." she murmured. "Magical talent far beyond yours Joshua. I've seen your records."
His throat locked up. Lysandra angled her head, staring at him intently. "It wasn't simply the law," she continued. "It wasn't your age. It wasn't obligation." A faint smile touched her lips —the kind that said she'd already solved the puzzle.
"You were the most expendable."
Is she here to simply mock me? Demons really are cruel.
"Your father needed a sacrifice," she said. "He had four sons eligible by tradition. Three with talent. One without."
Her eyes locked with his.
"You could disappear without consequence."
Something inside Joshua crumpled, his teeth clenching shut violently.
"Ah," she breathed. "There it is."
"There what is?!" he snapped, louder than he meant to.
"The truth," she said. "What you've been keeping to yourself."
She approached again, closer this time, blood red strands of her hair brushing against the bed. "What did it feel like," she murmured, "when you realized your life was worth less to them than your brothers' magic?"
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Lysandra leaned down until their eyes were level. Her gaze was steady and unblinking.
"Did it hurt?" she asked.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Did it make you angry?"
His fingers curled.
"Did you feel betrayed?" Lysandra's voice softened, too icy and precise to be comforting.
"Or… did you feel relieved?"
Joshua's head shot up. "Relieved?!"
"You've been raised to endure," she said. "To be a sacrifice from a young age. Your own people labeled you 'the talentless prince.' The child they groomed to die."
Her next words hit like a punch to the ribs.
"So, when they sent you away… I wonder if a part of you thought you deserved it."
Joshua's breath broke.
The mana lamps hummed quietly, pale blue light flickering across the stone walls.
She straightened slowly, withdrawing her hand from the frame of the bed.
"Humans are… strange," she murmured, stepping away just enough for him to breathe again. "They cling to bloodlines," she continued. "To laws. To old songs written by men long dead. "Her voice dipped bitterly.
"And then they call it duty. For a long time, I wondered if demons were any different,"
Joshua looked up. Lysandra's back was to him now. Her shoulders were drawn tight.
"Princess?" Joshua started, but the words didn't come out.
"There was a village," Lysandra said suddenly. "Far from the capital. Forgotten by most maps. Humans lived there."
Joshua stiffened. The way she said it wasn't cruel. Or mocking. It was… something else.
"I was young and badly wounded. It was pure chance that I found them."
Joshua swallowed.
Younger? She couldn't be more than twenty now.
"They should've run," she went on quietly, "and left me in the dirt. Most demons would have killed them for even looking my way." She sighed. "But they didn't care about things like that."
Joshua didn't dare interrupt. Her tone made it clear this wasn't a story she gave freely.
"They helped me. Fed me. Laughed with me."
Joshua felt the air change. The shift was subtle but heavy.
"What… happened to them?" he asked carefully.
Lysandra's gaze lowered. "The war happened," she answered.
Cold. Final.
Before he could say anything, she turned back toward him. The demon princess' mask was fully restored, expression unreadable once more.
"So," she said, closing the distance, "I know what it means to lose faith in your own people."
This was the human part of her. Buried deep. Hidden under armor and reputation. She had shown him the outline of it, nothing more. A silhouette of pain she refused to name.
She stopped inches from him.
"I asked you if you hated them," Lysandra said softly, "because hatred can shape a man. "Her eyes locked onto his, steady and searching. "But so can grief."
Lysandra looked toward the restraint on his wrist, to the bandages on his body, then finally back at him.
"If you want to keep on living," she said, lowering her voice, "you must stop pretending their choices didn't hurt you. Your willpower is the strongest I've ever seen, but without a reason, eventually even you will fall... husband."
"…"
"You and I," she murmured, "are not so different, Joshua Vale."
Silence settled between them.
Then Lysandra straightened, her expression shifting back into something controlled and precise.
"You will have a day to rest," she said. "Under royal decree, your life is protected. No one in the demon realm may touch you."
Her tone made it clear: protected did not mean safe.
"You may wander the palace grounds if you wish," she continued. "Though understand this—" her eyes lifted to his, "you will not be welcomed anywhere."
Joshua swallowed. Of course not. A human in the demon capital? Even a prince was little more than prey.
"In a day's time," she said quietly, "we will begin the binding ceremony."
Right. The ritual.
She held her hand out, and with a red glow, the restraints on his wrists opened. Blood rushed through his arms.
"The ceremony that ties us together," she clarified. "This will make our marriage official. It would be wise," she finished, "to get some rest... my dear husband."
Her words held no warmth.
Then she turned, leaving him alone with the weight of what tomorrow would bring.