A sharp rap struck the door.
Joshua yawned, before rolling over to his side. "Elara just one more hour," he said drunkenly, making no effort to stand.
The door creaked open and heavy footsteps neared the edge of the bed.
"Prince Joshua Vale."
A voice as smooth as obsidian sliding across stone. Feminine. Unyielding. "His Majesty commands your presence in the royal court. You will have one hour to prepare, then we will escort you to the ceremony. Is that understood?"
It didn't sound like a question.
Joshua rolled over again.
Then the silhouette at his bedside froze him.
"...Huh?"
Too tall. Too rigid. Not Elara.
The figure beside his bed was a demon woman—though calling her simply that felt wrong.
She was around 6"3 with tan skin toned with lean muscle. She bore long obsidian-black hair tied at the nape of her neck, with a sharp jawline, and dark black horns. Her uniform was black trimmed with violet, hugging her figure in ways that absolutely did not match his mental picture of a "messenger."
"Right. I'm counting on you," the prince nodded with a soft agreement.
It slipped out, a fake display of trust spoken before thought.
Her shoulders tightened for half a second. Her eyes flicked away like she wasn't sure how to respond.
Then it was gone.
"Okay," she said, back to full posture. "I'll wait outside."
He splashed water on his face, threw on the clean set of clothes they'd left folded on the table — dark fabric, simple, nothing royal — and stepped outside.
The demon messenger was waiting exactly where she said she'd be. Her shoulders were squared, head straight forward, and hands behind her back. She had the demeanor of someone who put their all and then some into even the smallest of things.
"Follow me," she said.
"Lead the way."
***
Joshua cleared his throat. "So, the royal court. Why do we have to go to the royal court? It doesn't feel very romantic, does it?"
She didn't look back. "The King does not explain his summons."
Okay. A dead end.
He tried again.
"Is the court normally held this early in the morning?"
"No," she said. "This assembly was called for you."
Fantastic. Nothing like knowing the entire demon aristocracy woke up to judge your existence.
They turned a corner, passing tall slitted windows that caught the morning light — reflecting it in an almost lavender glow along the walls.
"I've never seen anything like this before," Joshua said quietly, brushing his hand across the window. It felt cool to the touch and smooth with no friction.
"Moonsilver glass," she said. "It feeds on ambient mana and helps light the palace even when the moons are obscured."
"Beautiful," he admitted.
"...Most humans do not describe our architecture that way."
They walked deeper into the palace.
The scent changed first.
Warm air drifted through the hall, faintly metallic with a hint of sweetness—like incense blended with crushed herbs. The smell was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. It reminded him of fire, stone, and fond memories that felt unreachable now.
He followed the woman past a row of armored demon knights standing along the wall. Their reactions were not subtle. A few stiffened. One bared his teeth in distaste. Another whispered under his breath, the syllables low and sharp, probably not saying anything nice.
Joshua kept his posture straight, even as every stare scraped against him like a blade dragged across skin.
She noticed.
"Do not mind them," she said. "Most have never seen a human walk these halls. And none have seen one unrestrained."
"Comforting."
"That wasn't my intention."
"I know."
They continued onward. The ceiling arched overhead in twisting black stone carved with scenes of ancient demon wars. Blue fire pulsed in urns along the walls, casting shadows that made the carvings look like they were moving.
Two demon scribes carrying scrolls hurried past. They glanced at Joshua — startled, offended — then instantly bowed to the messenger before rushing off.
"You're popular," Joshua said under his breath.
"Not just me," she replied. "You are even more so."
"That's worse."
"Yes."
They descended a staircase broad enough for an army, lined with glowing chains of runes.
Joshua glanced at her again. "I never got your name."
Her lips pressed together.
"I… wasn't instructed to give it."
"That wasn't the question."
Silence. A long, quiet war between protocol and something else.
"…Veyla," she said at last. "I serve under Her Highness's personal guard. Although Lysandra hardly needs my assistance. You can probably imagine why."
"You don't even have to tell me." Joshua shuddered. "Veyla, thank you."
Her eyes snapped forward too fast to hide the way they had widened.
"You speak strangely for a human," she murmured.
"Thanks. That's probably a compliment coming from a demon."
She slowed just a fraction, enough that he nearly walked into her.
"When the binding ceremony is complete," Veyla said quietly, "you will become royalty. " She took a breath. "I will serve beneath you, then. However, you require."
Maybe she doesn't hate me after all.
But the palace didn't allow the prince to ponder for long. They reached the final hallway—massive obsidian doors towering before them, carved with ancient demon kings whose eyes seemed to follow him.
Veyla stepped aside, posture straightening into something ceremonial.
"Prince Joshua," she said, voice steady, unwavering. "The royal court awaits."
"Right. Thanks, Veyla."
"..."
She just stood there, hand hovering near her chest plate, as if she didn't know what to do with the sound of her own name spoken back to her. Spoken by a human. Spoken without fear.
"You should go," she said. "They are waiting."
Veyla reached for the doors, palms pressing against the engraved stone. Mana lines flared beneath her touch—deep crimson lines spreading through the carvings like blood drawn into veins.
The doors groaned.
A slow, grinding sound rolled through the corridor like an ancient beast awakening after centuries of sleep. Cold air washed over them first—a tide of power, incense, heated metal, and something faintly electric from the amassed mana inside.
Veyla lowered her head slightly.
"Prince Joshua," she said in a tone dipped in ceremony. "From this point forward, I am not permitted to enter."
Joshua blinked. "You're not coming with me?"
Her expression didn't change.
"This is the royal court," she said. "Only nobles, the High Guard, and those summoned by the King may cross the threshold." Her eyes lowered half a degree. "That includes you. I will be here to escort you once called upon."
So, he was being shoved into the pit alone.
Fitting.
Joshua exhaled, letting the tension settle in his ribs.
"Then I'll see you soon."
"You are… unusual," she said quietly. "For a human. And for a prince."
Joshua wasn't sure if that was a warning or a compliment.
Before he could ask, Veyla stepped back, boots clicking once against the polished stone.
The doors groaned.
Her posture straightened into something ironclad.
Into something lonely.
"Walk with strength," she whispered. "Eyes forward. Do not bow."
Joshua almost laughed. "Not even a little?"
"Even a little is far too much."
The doors finished opening, revealing a chamber drenched in crimson light and shadow, voices murmuring in rising balconies, mana thick enough to breathe.
The demon court.
Waiting.
Watching.
And very much awake.