BOUND TO THE DEMON LORD

prologue

King Edric sat across from the man everyone feared.

Lord Asher.

A man known for having no mercy. A man who did not forgive. A man who could end a life without blinking—and sleep peacefully after.

Edric’s hands rested on the table, but they were stiff. His back was straight, yet his heart pounded hard in his chest. He had borrowed a fortune from Lord Asher. Not because he wanted to—but because he had no choice.

And today was the deadline.

Everyone knew one thing about Lord Asher: he never gave extra time. Not a day. Not an hour.

He was wealthy beyond measure. A lord who ruled without a crown. A name people never spoke twice. They called him the Golden-Eyed Demon—because when anger touched him, his eyes burned gold, cold and deadly.

Many had died for less.

Edric swallowed. He had thought of borrowing from neighboring kingdoms to pay him back. Owing them felt safer than owing this man.

“Just… give me seven days,” Edric said at last, his voice low. “I will pay it all. I swear.”

Lord Asher lifted his teacup slowly. Calm. Unbothered. He sipped as if they were discussing weather, not a debt that could ruin a king.

His face showed nothing. No anger. No pity. No mercy.

That was the most frightening part.

You could never tell what Lord Asher would do next.

King Edric leaned forward slightly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Seven days is all I ask,” he said again. “I will borrow from other kingdoms if I must. I will sell land, treasures—anything. I will not fail you.”

Lord Asher did not answer right away.

He set his teacup down with care, his fingers steady. His eyes stayed on Edric, calm, unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy and sharp, pressing against Edric’s chest.

“You borrowed knowing the terms,” Asher said at last. His voice was low, even. “You knew I do not wait.”

Edric nodded quickly. “I know. And I accept my fault. But I am a king. If I fall, my kingdom falls with me.”

Asher tilted his head slightly, as if considering something unimportant. “That is not my concern.” He picked up his tea cup again.

Edric’s breath caught. His mouth went dry. “Then… what do you want?” he asked carefully.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then—

The teacup slipped from Lord Asher’s hand.

It hit the floor and shattered.

The sound echoed through the room like a sentence being passed.

Lord Asher rose slowly to his feet. His golden eyes fixed on Edric, cold and sharp.

“Give me your daughter,” he said flatly.

Edric froze.

“Princess Zayla,” Asher continued. “Give her to me as my wife, and the debt is gone. Forgotten. Your kingdom remains untouched.”

Edric’s blood ran cold.

Lord Asher turned away as if the matter was already settled. “Refuse,” he said calmly, “and by tomorrow, you will have nothing left to rule.”

The room fell silent.

And King Edric knew—

this was never a request.