"Lord Azrael! No, stop!" Evelyn struggled against his grip, but he held her firmly, refusing to let go.
"No, no, Morning Star," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "My heart beats for you. Here." He seized her hand and pressed it against his chest. "I adore you."
"My Lord… I—I'm married. I belong to my husband. I can't accept this." She wrenched her hand free, exhaling sharply.
Azrael's eyes darkened with something unreadable. Then he scoffed. "Married? Are you even truly his wife? He doesn't see you as one. To him, you're just a maid."
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Don't you want to feel love?" he pressed, his tone gentler now. "Let me take you away from all this. Be mine."
"No." Her voice came steadier this time. "I don't want that."
His jaw tightened. "Then what do you want?"
A bitter smile touched her lips. "I have nothing to want. Once, I dreamed of being a baker, but life… shaped me differently."
His brow furrowed. "Differently how? Evelyn, I only want you to have a good life—something more than this."
"My Lord—" Her breath hitched as he suddenly grabbed both her arms.
"Let me be your one and only," Azrael pleaded, his voice thick with desperation. "Please, I can't—each day I see you, I understand what it means to love, to yearn for something I can never have. I…"
"No!" Evelyn gasped, wrenching herself free at last. "I'm sorry!" She dipped her head in a quick bow before fleeing the room, her heart pounding violently in her chest.
As she turned a corner, a strange stillness washed over her. Five maids stood watching—silent, observing. Their gazes pierced through her like daggers.
Her breath caught as she lowered her head and walked away, the weight of their stares pressing against her back.
Was it shame? Anger? Pity? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that something inside her twisted painfully, like she had committed a grave sin.
By the time she reached the maids' wing, she barely had a moment to gather herself before more maids stepped into her path, blocking her way.
"You're Evelyn, right?" one of them sneered, her voice laced with mockery.
"The Queens want to see you. At the fortress," another added.
Evelyn swallowed hard and nodded, forcing her feet to move. She knew this wasn't good.
The Queens.
Why were they calling her? Was it anger that she was still alive? That she had dared to exist in their world?
When they finally reached the fortress, Lady Seraphina and Lady Vespera stepped forward. Their presence was suffocating, their expressions twisted in pure, seething rage.
"So, it's you," they hissed in unison, their voices like venom.
"The audacity to still be alive, to walk around with the Lord!" Lady Seraphina's voice cracked with fury.
Before Evelyn could react, a sharp sting exploded across her cheek. A slap. Brutal. Unforgiving.
Evelyn's head snapped to the side, pain exploding across her cheek. The sharp tang of blood coated her tongue, but she barely had a moment to react before Lady Seraphina's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"You disgust me."
Evelyn barely lifted her head before Seraphina's hand lashed out again—this time gripping her by the chin, forcing her to meet their furious gazes.
"You walk around here like a ghost, a maid who should have vanished the moment you stepped into the demon lord's chambers. And yet, you dare breathe in our presence?" Seraphina hissed, nails digging into Evelyn's skin.
"She's not even worthy of our wrath," Lady Vespera murmured, circling her like a predator. "She's nothing. A mistake."
Evelyn's body trembled, but she clenched her fists at her sides, willing herself not to collapse. Not in front of them.
A mistake. That's what she was. A maid who should never have been noticed. A woman who was never supposed to be here.
"She needs to learn," Seraphina said darkly.
There was a chilling finality in her voice that made Evelyn's stomach twist.
A maid behind her stepped forward, presenting something draped over her arms—a long coil of dark leather. The whip.
Evelyn's breath hitched.
Seraphina took it without hesitation, letting it uncoil in her grip. She flicked it once, the crack of leather against stone making Evelyn flinch.
"Hold her down."
Hands clamped onto her arms, her shoulders, forcing her to her knees. She gasped, struggling, but their grip was unyielding.
The first lash tore through the fabric of her dress, a searing line of pain burning across her back.
Evelyn's body jerked violently. She sucked in a breath, forcing herself not to scream.
Another strike. Harder. Deeper. The sting radiated through her bones, white-hot agony spreading with each merciless snap of the whip.
A third. A fourth.
Her resolve cracked. A strangled cry broke from her lips as her vision blurred.
Vespera crouched in front of her, tilting her head. "Hurts, doesn't it?" she whispered, almost amused.
Evelyn shuddered.
"Now," Seraphina exhaled, tossing the whip aside. "For the real punishment."
Evelyn felt herself being yanked forward, her arms pinned against the cold stone floor. Her breath came in uneven gasps.
Vespera stepped forward, slowly unsheathing a thin, gleaming knife. The way she turned it between her fingers made Evelyn's blood run cold.
"You are nothing," Vespera murmured, almost gently. "But you wear his mark. A legal wife." She spat the last word like venom. "And you mock us by walking around untouched. Undeserving."
She pressed the flat edge of the blade against Evelyn's cheek, the cool metal a stark contrast to the burning agony in her back.
"You know, we all gave something for him," she continued, voice like silk. "A piece of ourselves."
Evelyn knew what she meant.
One taken from each. A tribute. A sacrifice.
But Evelyn… she had given nothing.
She had taken the title of wife without bleeding for it.
Vespera's grip on her wrist tightened.
"No," Evelyn gasped, struggling in vain.
Seraphina merely smiled. "You wanted to be one of us, didn't you?"
The blade pressed against her pinky.
Evelyn's body went rigid.
The sharp pain came first, a lightning bolt of agony that sent her into a freefall. Then the slow, horrifying realization as warmth spilled down her trembling hand.
A scream tore from her throat as she collapsed forward, chest heaving.
Blood. So much of it.
Vespera flicked the knife, casting the severed finger aside as if it were nothing more than discarded parchment.
Seraphina exhaled, looking almost pleased. "Now, you belong."
Evelyn was shaking violently, barely aware of the boot that slammed into her stomach, sending her crashing onto her side.
She gasped, curling into herself as the pain swallowed her whole.
"Pathetic."
The knife clattered to the ground, the Queens stepping over her as if she were no more than filth beneath their feet.
Then they were gone.
And Evelyn lay there, bleeding, and broken.