Claimed by the Demon prince

Chapter four To my chambers

Azazel POV

“What shall we do with her, your majesty?”

I didn’t answer.

“She is a wolf, my lord. They aren’t permitted past our borders. The law is clear … “

“I know what the law says.”

.He shut his mouth and bowed his head a careful inch lower than he had been holding it. It seems he still valued his life.

Better. I looked down at the little wolf at my feet.

She had collapsed in the dirt the moment I cut the last warrior’s throat, and she hadn’t moved since. Her dress was torn. Her feet were bleeding. Her hair, which must have once been fair, was matted to one side of her face with blood I didn’t think was all hers. She was small. She didn’t look like a creature anyone should have been afraid of.

By the letter of our law, she was already mine. She had crossed the line between the demon lands and the rest of the world, and that meant her life was mine to do whatever I want with it. I could end her here.

Or I could throw her to the labour pits. Sell her to one of the lower houses. Slave was the polite word for it. In this country, slavery was another way of writing death. The demons in my service would gobble this little wolf up and spit her bones onto the courtyard stones inside a week.

That, in itself, was not my concern. I had seen a few daring wolves trying to cross our borders before, and never once cared about their fate.

But when I saw that slimy wolf on top of her wanting to kill her. My body had subconsciously moved to protect her. I was filled with so much rage at them for raising their hands against her that it made me a little scared.

I had never had a mate. Everyone said it’s because of the amount of blood on my hands that I was now cursed, they said a man who has killed as much as I have does not get to be loved.

I believed them. Especially when my own mother said it. “Forget about a mate, my dear Azazel, just keep on being my blade.”

So why did it feel like I would crack open down the middle of my chest if I didn’t put my hand on her?

I crouched.

I told myself I was only looking at her wounds. I told myself I was checking the rise and fall of her ribs. I lifted her hand. It was so small and cold, the knuckles scraped raw on one side.

I had to physically stop myself from pulling it against my chest.

Weakness, in this country, is something you do not show. Not in front of guards. Not in front of advisors. Not even in front of the open courtyard sky, because the sky has eyes in it too.

I set her hand down.

I stood.

“This one,” I said, “will serve in my chambers.”

The man who had spoken first bowed at once. “Very well, your majesty.”

“She is not to be touched. By anyone. I will know if she is. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Carry her.”

They moved at once, two of them lifting her between them. They weren't being gentle with her because they didn’t know how to be gentle. But not roughly either.

She was laid in the open cage at the back of the cart, and I didn’t look at her again as we began the road home.

The palace stood in the middle of a black valley, surrounded on three sides by dark cliffs. A single long road led up to its gates.

From a distance, it looked less like a palace and more like a wound in the earth. Red light glowed from every window, making the huge dark structure seem as though it was bleeding.

I had lived there for thirty-one years. I was born in a room behind the third tower.

My earliest memory was of the long hall—the smell of smoke, stone, and the sweet scent of demon wine.

Yet despite spending my entire life there, I had never once felt like home. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere.

I didn’t know what home was supposed to feel like.

I gave my men orders to take care of her. The healer with the small hands was to treat her, not the older one who always smelled of wine. She was to be placed in the side room of my chambers, with clean water and bread for when she woke up. No one was to speak to her without my permission.

When I was sure they understood. I climbed the east stairs.

I didn’t want to. I had been climbing this stair since I was a boy, and not once had I ever wanted to. But word would already be spreading through the palace. The prince has brought a wolf back.

I would rather she heard it from me than from one of her gossiping maids. I knocked once on the door at the top.

“Come in, my darling.”

She sat at her vanity, as she always was at this hour. Her long black hair fell straight down her back, she was running a silver comb through it slowly, she had all the time in the world to admire herself and her beauty.

Her skin was pale. Too pale. Like she never needed the sun. Her eyes lifted to meet mine in the mirror, and they were red. Red from blood.

People called me a demon. But my mother was the real one.

“I heard,” she said, “that you brought back a pet from your outing today.”

“Yes, mother.”

I looked at the floor when I said it.

“Mm.” She drew the comb through her hair again, watching me through the mirror. “How sweet of you, my love. A little something to play with. You have been working so hard.”

“Mother … “

“When you get bored of her, darling,” she said, and she smiled, “send her down to me. I haven’t had any fun in such a long time.”