CHAPTER FIVE:Demonic disappointments
1232 Words
Prince Adrien was, in a word, persistent. In two words: flamboyantly exhausting.
Naya had survived mud goblins, a cursed soup bowl, and an accidental hex that made her own hair attack her in her sleep. But this? This was different. Adrien didn’t just smile at her anymore. No—he hovered.
Every day.
Everywhere.
“Oh, my flower, you dropped this,” he said one morning, handing her a spoon she very much hadn’t dropped.
“Thank you,” she muttered.
Ten minutes later—“Let me help with that,” he said, taking the feather duster from her hands and delicately brushing one corner of the bookshelf with the precision of a man who had never dusted in his entire life.
“Please stop helping,” she hissed.
“Oh, but I can’t. Seeing you work so hard, it wounds my noble heart.”
At one point, he leaned against the storage closet and sighed, “Perhaps I should just offer to marry you and put an end to your tragic servitude.”
“I’d rather marry a turnip,” Naya snapped.
The other servants watched the drama unfold like it was a palace soap opera.
“Maybe she did bewitch him,” Mirra whispered one afternoon.
“If I had, do you really think this is the outcome I’d choose?” Naya shot back, balancing a stack of freshly ironed napkins on her hip.
It was only a matter of time before Kael snapped.
And snap he did.
One morning, Naya entered his chambers expecting the usual: unreasonable chores, vague death glares, and him sharpening a dagger like it was her future. But instead, he greeted her with:
“You’re not leaving this wing again.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Your duties are being reassigned,” he said, not looking up. “You’ll work in my chamber, my study, and my storage rooms. Nowhere else.”
“Are you grounding me?”
He stood. “It’s not punishment. It’s precaution.”
“Precaution against what? The seductive power of feather dusters?”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “Precaution against him.”
Naya’s mouth dropped. “You’re jealous!”
He looked offended. “I am concerned. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, so now I’m your favorite mop?”
He glared. “You’ll remain in this wing.”
And that’s how Naya’s life transformed from overworked servant to overworked prisoner. Kael gave her so many ridiculous tasks, she was convinced he had a master’s degree in pettiness.
“Polish every book spine in this library.”
“Alphabetize the scrolls by scent.”
“Reorganize the potions closet—no magic.”
For three days straight, she didn’t see sunlight. She began to suspect Kael had hidden all windows just to make sure she didn’t accidentally dazzle another prince with her “peasant charm.”
The rumors spread faster than fire through dry parchment.
“She’s locked away.”
“He’s keeping her.”
“She must be important.”
“She must be cursed.”
“She must have a tattoo of his name somewhere!”
Naya heard it all, and she had had it.
“Your Royal Overreaction,” she said one day, arms crossed, “you do realize locking me up isn’t a solution?”
Kael didn’t meet her gaze. “The solution was you staying invisible.”
“Excuse me for being accidentally interesting.”
But things were about to escalate in a way no one expected.
Because Prince Adrien was done playing games.
He stormed into the palace throne room, all golden curls and overconfidence, and bowed with excessive drama before King Alaric.
“Your Majesty,” he announced, “I would like to make a formal proposal.”
The court leaned in.
“I wish to take one of your servants back to Asterwyn. I will pay handsomely—gold, jewels, estates.”
The king blinked. “You… wish to purchase a servant?”
“A very special one,” Adrien said, turning and winking directly at Naya, who stood at the side holding a tray of cursed cheese.
The tray trembled.
Queen Edora leaned forward, finally smiling for the first time in a century. “How generous of you.”
Kael, standing to the right of the throne, didn’t smile. He looked like he was trying not to burst into demonic flames.
“I believe her name is Naya,” Adrien continued. “She would be treated well in my kingdom. Like nobility.”
The room erupted in whispers.
Kael stepped forward. “No.”
The king frowned. “Kael—”
“I said no.”
Adrien raised a brow. “Why? Is she yours?”
Kael’s eyes gleamed. “She’s not for trade.”
The king cleared his throat. “Son, this is diplomacy. If Asterwyn wants a servant—”
“She’s not just a servant,” Kael snapped.
Everyone went silent.
Adrien smiled. “Then let her choose.”
Kael turned to Naya, his expression unreadable. The court’s eyes burned into her.
Naya looked around. At the king. At the queen, whose expression was way too smug. At Adrien, practically vibrating with hope.
And finally, at Kael—who looked… vulnerable. No jokes. No sarcasm. Just fear.
Then she made her decision.
“I’ll go,” she said.
Kael froze.
The court gasped.
Naya added, “Not because I want to be anyone’s property. I just… need to leave. All of this. Before it crushes me.”
She didn’t look back. Not at Adrien. Not at Kael.
Just walked out, heart pounding in her chest.
Later that evening, the palace buzzed with noise. Everyone had an opinion. Sarika found her packing in the servant quarters.
“You’re really going?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lucky,” she said. “To get out.”
Naya shook her head. “No. I’m not lucky. I’m just tired.”
One by one, her friends came to say goodbye.
Mirra gave her extra bread. “For the road. And maybe slap Adrien with it if he starts singing again.”
The stable boy handed her a charm. “For protection. Or to sell for gold if you get desperate.”
And as night fell, she snuck past the front gates—not with Adrien, who had been distracted by court formalities—but on her own terms, using a potion she brewed from stashed herbs and sarcasm.
She disappeared into the forest with nothing but a sack of belongings and an exhausted heart.
Back at the palace, Prince Kael stood alone in the west tower, staring at the stars.
“She left,” Queen Edora said from behind him. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He didn’t answer.
“Or… did you want her?” she asked, smirking.
Still no answer.
Only when he was alone did Kael finally allow his mask to crack.
Because no one knew the truth. That when Kael was born, a demon spirit fused with him—gifted him power, rage, and the inability to love without destruction.
But Naya? Naya made the chaos quiet.
And now, she was gone.
“Then let them blame the monster,” he muttered, turning toward the map of kingdoms.
His eyes glowed red.
“If they think she’s theirs, they haven’t seen what I can do.”
- Writer
