"Aren't you happy for me, Marianne?" Evelyn beamed, twirling as a maid fastened a jeweled pin into her hair. "The King has made me his queen! Look around—you'll never be just a maid again. From now on, you're my personal handmaid!"
Marianne forced a smile. "I'm happy for you, my dearest friend. I hope this lasts forever."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her dress. "So… that means we're not running away anymore, right? Do you still want to stay?"
"Well, if I have everything I want, why would I run away?" Evelyn said, admiring herself in the mirror. She smoothed down the rich fabric of her gown, turning slightly. "I'm so nervous. What do you think, Milady?" she asked the court lady.
"It's beautiful," the woman replied with a polite smile.
Evelyn beamed, but Marianne remained still. She wasn't sure if she should smile or not. She felt nothing—neither happiness nor anger. Just… emptiness.
As Evelyn stepped out into her wing, excitement bubbled inside her. The space had been transformed—adorned with vibrant flowers, intricate statues, and lavish decorations. She was to meet the King tonight, to thank him for his generosity. The court lady had hinted at what was expected of her—that she should offer herself to him. After all, she was still untouched.
With steady steps, she entered the King's wing. The guards announced her arrival, and the heavy doors creaked open. But as she stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat.
Another queen sat on the King's lap, her hands trailing over him intimately.
Evelyn's heartbeat faltered. Her gaze darted between the King and the woman draped over him. Had she been so foolish? Had she really forgotten that Lucifer already had nine wives before her? And countless concubines? What had made her think…
"My Lord…" she lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was… I was supposed to see you tonight."
Lucifer, lounging in his bed with the queen still clinging to him, lazily arched a brow.
"You have, haven't you?"
"But, my Lord, I was—"
"That will be all, Evelyn." His gaze flicked to her for the briefest moment before turning back to the woman in his arms.
Dismissed.
A sharp sting pricked her chest, and before she could stop them, a few silent tears slipped down her cheek. She quickly lowered her head, forcing herself to keep her composure. She turned, walking out of the chamber with steady, deliberate steps.
The doors shut behind her with a resounding finality.
The night air outside the King's wing was crisp, carrying the faint scent of enchanted roses that bloomed only under the moonlight. The palace was alive with its usual quiet magic—floating lanterns hovering in the distance, the low hum of warding spells woven into the very walls. Yet everything felt suffocating.
Evelyn barely took a few steps when a familiar presence halted her. A figure stood beneath the silver glow of the palace lanterns, his dark coat flowing like liquid shadow. The scent of dusk and something unearthly clung to the air around him.
Lord Azrael.
She stopped, composing herself before he could speak. But as always, he saw too much.
"Congratulations… you're now a queen," he said smoothly, stepping closer. From behind his back, he revealed a bouquet of deep crimson flowers—ones that didn't grow in this realm. Their petals shimmered faintly, as if laced with stardust.
Evelyn hesitated before taking them. "Thank you…"
Azrael's gaze sharpened. "Is something the matter? You look as if you've been crying… Morning Star."
The name twisted something in her chest. A name he called her in moments like this, as if he saw something in her she couldn't yet grasp.
She forced a soft laugh, though it sounded hollow. "No, I'm perfectly fine, Lord Azrael. However, if you'll excuse me, I need to retire for the night."
Azrael studied her for a lingering moment, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "Alright then," he murmured, stepping aside with a graceful bow.
But as she walked past him, a whisper brushed against the night.
"You do know, Morning Star… queens who cry alone at night rarely stay queens for long."
She froze for half a second, but didn't turn back.
---
The early winter morning was quiet, the air thick with frost as mist curled over the earth. The royal grounds were bathed in a soft, pale glow, the sun still reluctant to rise. Today was the royal hunt.
Lucifer, Lord Azrael, and the General prepared their horses, their dark cloaks shifting with the cold breeze. The queens, wrapped in luxurious furs, were settled in the designated viewing pavilion, a raised platform draped in deep crimson, designed for them to observe the hunt in comfort.
Evelyn stepped forward, hoping—just maybe—Lucifer would allow her to ride with him. But just as her lips parted, a court lady intercepted, her voice gentle yet firm.
"My lady, the royal carriage awaits."
Evelyn hesitated, but in the end, she swallowed back her disappointment and climbed into the carriage.
Lucifer never looked back.
---
Upon Arrival
The royal hunting grounds stretched before them, an expanse of towering trees and shifting shadows. The queens and noble ladies settled into their viewing seats as the men prepared to depart.
One of Lucifer's wives—his newest conquest from the previous night—glided toward him, her silk sleeves brushing against his arm as she leaned in close.
"My Lord," she purred, fingers lingering just a second too long. "I know you'll capture the most formidable beast, won't you?" Her voice was syrupy sweet, her gaze filled with devotion.
Lucifer didn't push her away. He didn't acknowledge her either. His expression remained as unreadable as ever.
From her seat, Evelyn pressed her hands together tightly, her knuckles turning pale. She forced herself to look away, but before she could, she caught Lord Azrael watching her.
She quickly averted her gaze.
Lucifer noticed.
Moments later, the hunt was declared open. With swift movements, the three men—Lucifer, Lord Azrael, and the General—mounted their horses. The ground trembled beneath them as they rode into the heart of the forest.
---
Deep in the Forest
The deeper they ventured, the quieter the world became. The crisp scent of pine and damp earth filled the air, and the distant sound of hooves faded into the vast wilderness.
Lucifer suddenly reined in his horse and dismounted with effortless grace. His sharp gaze swept across the terrain, sensing movement in the shadows.
Azrael, still on his horse, studied him with amusement. "You seem so indifferent to your wife, Evelyn," he mused. "If Your Highness doesn't want her… perhaps I should take her instead?"
Lucifer said nothing. His expression was as still as the winter air.
Azrael smirked, pressing further. "No response? Hm. Perhaps you truly don't care—"
Lucifer's gaze snapped to him, sharp and cold. "Do not let my wife's name stain your lips again."
Azrael chuckled, undeterred. "So you acknowledge she's your wife? I didn't expect that." He tilted his head. "You know… you don't have to do this. Let me have her."
Before Lucifer could respond, the wind shifted.
A low, guttural growl echoed through the trees.
Lucifer's golden eyes narrowed. "Aiyah," he murmured. "It's coming."
A heartbeat later, the beast burst through the underbrush.
Towering, its scaled body gleaming with an unnatural sheen, it let out a deafening roar, shaking the ground beneath them. Its fangs dripped with venom, claws the size of swords carving into the earth.
Lucifer stepped back, arms folding as he observed.
Lord Azrael and the General were left to confront the beast.
Azrael acted first, drawing his blade and striking swiftly. The metal met flesh, cutting deep—but the creature barely flinched. Instead, it retaliated, moving with lightning speed, slamming its massive claws into him.
Azrael was flung off his horse, crashing into the ground with a brutal thud. His breath hitched, his vision blurring.
The beast loomed over him, its maw widening.
Azrael's heartbeat pounded in his ears as he struggled to move.
His voice broke.
"Brother—Brother, help me!"
Lucifer sighed, as if this was nothing more than an inconvenience. With a flick of his fingers, the air crackled.
Magic surged from him in an invisible wave, and the beast suddenly halted. Its frenzied eyes dulled, its body lowering as if submitting to him.
The General stared in disbelief.
Lucifer smirked. "Pathetic."
He turned, mounted his horse, and rode off. The beast, now docile, followed like a trained hound.
---
Back at the Royal Grounds
The moment Lucifer emerged from the forest, leading the subdued beast, the court erupted in cheers.
"The King has tamed the beast!"
"The gods favor him!"
The council members rushed forward, their voices filled with praise.
The queens swarmed him, their hands reaching out, their words dripping with admiration. "My Lord, you are truly unmatched."
Another queen clutched his sleeve. "A spectacle only fitting for our King."
Lucifer barely acknowledged them, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
Evelyn stood apart from the others. Unlike the queens who fawned over him, she merely bowed her head. Silent. Distant.
But when Azrael stumbled forward, blood seeping through his clothes, Evelyn's mask slipped.
Her eyes widened.
"Lord Azrael!" Without hesitation, she rushed to him, catching him before he collapsed. "What is wrong with you?" Her voice, usually so guarded, held a hint of urgency.
Lucifer's expression darkened.
Without a word, he lifted a single finger.
A force yanked Evelyn backward—not just anywhere, but straight into his arms.
She gasped, her back pressed against his chest, his grip firm around her wrist.
"Enough," Lucifer murmured against her ear. His tone was cold, unreadable.
The court fell silent.
Azrael, despite his injuries, smirked. His voice was hoarse, teasing. "So possessive, brother."
Lucifer ignored him, his gaze locked onto Evelyn.
She swallowed hard.
The air between them crackled, thick with tension.