Chosen by Valen

Night whispers

The halls at night were nothing like the day.

Zara moved in silence, her slippers muffled against polished obsidian. No sentinels barred her path. No servants whispered behind fans. The palace seemed… asleep. Or pretending to be.

She didn’t know why she left the room—only that if she stayed, she’d drown in her thoughts.

The image of Valen touching her cheek haunted her like a ghost. He was terrifying, yes, but also… human. And that, somehow, was worse.

She rounded a corner and almost collided with a figure in a pale robe.

“By the shadows!” the lady hissed, stepping back.

Zara startled. “Saela?”

The woman didn't look surprised to see her, she looked at her like she was accessing her then gave a sly smile, it was as if she was expecting to see her. “Lady Zara. You shouldn’t be wandering.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Saela gestured down the hall. “Come. There’s a garden terrace where no one goes at night.”

Zara hesitated, then nodded.

They walked side by side, zara noticed how saela moved and walked like royalty, as if the entire hallway was her runway stage and she was not trying to posses it she owned it. They did not speak until they passed through a tall arch into a quiet space filled with moonlight and whispering vines. A strange silver plant curled along the edges, glowing faintly.

Zara leaned against the railing, staring out at the sky. Black stars. Burning clouds.

“This place is like a dream,” she murmured. “Or a nightmare I haven’t woken up from.”

Saela was quiet for a moment, then said, “Most mortals don’t last. Some lose their minds. Others… break.”

Zara looked at her sharply.

Saela met her eyes. “But you’re different.”

“How would you know?”

Saela smiled softly. “Because he chose you. Not the court. Not the seers. Him. And Valen never chooses without reason.”

Zara shook her head. “He terrifies me.”

“He terrifies everyone,” Saela said simply. “But he’s also… lonely. Always watching. Always waiting. And now he has you.”

Zara turned back to the view. “I don’t want to be someone’s possession.”

“I don’t think he wants a possession,” Saela said, voice barely above a whisper. “I think he wants a match.”

They fell into silence again.

Zara wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s strange. I should hate him. But when he looked at me tonight, I didn’t see a monster. I saw a man... who could destroy me and still somehow felt tired.”

Saela tilted her head, smiled and said slowly. “Maybe he’s both.”

Zara finally looked at her. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

Saela’s smile was sad. “Because if I were in your place… I’d want someone to remind me I was still human.”

A bell tolled in the distance—low and deep.

“That’s the signal for ward resets,” Saela said calmly. “The guards will begin their sweep soon. You should return.”

Zara nodded slowly, casting one last glance at the sky.

As they walked back, her thoughts buzzed with questions.

About Valen.

About herself.

She had a thousand things she wanted to ask Saela about Valen.

And about what it would truly cost… to become the Devil’s bride. But she knew that was not the time, she would have to be sure she could trust her first.

Zara didn’t sleep.

She sat curled on the edge of the massive bed waiting for him, fingers wrapped tight around the hem of her gown, the layers of silk now wrinkled and forgotten.

He never came.

The silence was worse than rage. She tried to convince herself she was not affected by it but she was, deep down in her stomach she felt disappointed and stood up.

After everything—after the wedding, after the strange softness in his voice, the touch, the promise of something ancient and terrifying—he had vanished.

The door had remained shut.

The candles burnt low.

And the echo of her own thoughts kept her company.

By morning, her limbs were stiff, her eyes gritty with unshed tears and sleepless anxiety. A knock at the door startled her upright.

A servant entered, eyes downcast. “Lady Zara. The Lord has instructed that you return to your wing. A court brunch will be held later today. You are expected to attend.”

That was it.

No message. No explanation. Just a command.

Zara clenched her jaw. “Fine.”

Later That Day – The Court Brunch

The grand dining hall shimmered with gold and sin.

Silks, jewels, exotic fruits, meats Zara couldn’t name. The nobles laughed too loudly, eyed her too long. Valen was absent.

Seated uncomfortably between Saela and a brooding official, Zara forced herself to nibble at a fruit that tasted like roses and heat.

Then she came.

Tall, draped in midnight-blue velvet, with golden coils in her hair and poison in her smile.

Lady Vireya.

“ Lady Zara,” Vireya purred, gliding over. “I must say, you’ve adapted so quickly. Already lounging with nobility after one little ceremony?”

Zara blinked. “I was told to attend.”

“Of course. How dutiful.”

Her voice was saccharine. Her eyes were blades.

“You must be exhausted, poor thing. All alone in that big room. Or… did His Highness visit after all?”

She raised a manicured brow. “No? Pity.”

Zara’s spine stiffened.

Saela started to rise, but Zara put a hand on her arm.

Vireya twirled the goblet in her fingers, eyes glinting with disdain.

“Of course, it must be overwhelming. All of us were once new, you know. But not every bride gets… so much attention. Most of us earned our place with blood, magic, or political weight. But you—” her smile was vicious and sarcastic, “you must be special.”

Zara narrowed her eyes. “You’re all his wives?”

A few women laughed softly—unfriendly.

“Oh, darling,” Vireya cooed, “you’re not even the newest. Just the most curious.”

Heat climbed her throat—humiliation, fury—but she swallowed it down, letting silence stretch until the room leaned in.

“At least,” Zara said calmly, rising to her feet, “I know where I stand.”

Vireya tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Zara met her gaze, unflinching. “I was brought in openly. Before the court. Before witnesses.” Her lips curved, faint but deliberate.

“Some women are announced. Others are collected quietly, when it’s convenient.”

The laughter died.

Saela sucked in a breath.

Vireya’s smile tightened, eyes flashing—not hurt, but pleased.

“How bold,” she said softly. “For someone who knows nothing of how things work here.”

Zara smoothed her gown, her hands steady despite the ache in her chest. “Then perhaps you should be more concerned that someone like me has already been given a crown.”

A few wives shifted. A few looked away.

Vireya lifted her goblet, voice sweet as venom. “Careful, little bride. Curiosity has a way of becoming defiance.”

Zara inclined her head. “Then I’ll accept the consequences—when they come from the king.

Zara stood, turned and walked away, chin high.

Saela called after her.

Zara didn’t stop.

Later, in private, with Elara

Back at the mansion, Zara paces her room in growing disbelief.

“He’s married. To how many?”

Elara, standing awkwardly near the door, fidgets.

“Many. Some were for power, some by war or bargain. But most… are not like you.”

Zara stops cold. “What does that mean?”

The maid hesitates. “You were chosen. Not offered.

And you were wed in his name, not the Court’s.”

Zara’s throat went dry.

Elara adds quietly, “Some say it makes you his true bride. The rest… shadows.”

Back at Valen's Wing

The return to Valen’s mansion was quiet. Too quiet.

She passed servants who didn’t meet her gaze,

walked through corridors lined with strange, watching statues. When she entered the familiar dark halls of his home, a weight lifted—but not in comfort.

He still wasn’t there.

She went to the study. Empty.

To the balcony where he once watched her from afar. Empty.

She ended up in the bedchamber again, the curtains drawn wide to reveal that strange burning sky.

She stood for a long time, gripping the edge of the table, trying not to feel anything.

Then she whispered, “Why would you marry me if you were going to pretend I don’t exist?”

And somewhere in the house… something shifted.

Not a sound. Not a presence.

But a feeling.

Like the Devil was watching—and smiling.