The Demon King's Slave

The small chamber bell shattered my sleep. Ring. Ring. Ring. I wanted to stretch my rest just a little longer. Truth be told, I wished never to open my eyes again.

But this is my reality now.

I was still staring at the ceiling of my gilded prison when three loud knocks hammered my door. I sprang out of bed. Didn’t check the mirror. Didn’t breathe.

Please don’t be her.

It was only Ser Sebastian. Thank the gods.

“Lady Cielle,” he said, his voice flat. “You are summoned to His Majesty’s chambers. Immediately.”

“Hischambers?” My heart stumbled. “Shouldn’t we be meeting at the pavilion?”

The pavilion was where the king gave favors to his concubines. Not here. Not in his private room. Notme.

I thought I’d used up all my luck avoiding this moment. Apparently not.

Ser Sebastian gave me an unreadable look. “His Majesty did not feel like going to the pavilion. He demands the new one attend him in his chamber instead.”

I had more questions. Dozens of them. But Ser Sebastian had no patience for the overly inquisitive. So I swallowed them and followed.

He led me straight to the bathhouse.

The lady matrona was already waiting. Behind her stood six ladies-in-waiting, posed like statues at the entrance. Waiting. Forme.

I knew the rules. If I moved slowly, she would punish me. If I hurried, I might survive. The matrona was ruthless. Nobody provoked her.

“Where are the other concubines?” Her voice vibrated through the hallway, cold and eerie.

“His Majesty requestedthis onefor tonight,” Ser Sebastian said, gesturing toward me.

He could have used my name. He didn’t. The message was clear: I wasn’t welcome. Even the king’s summons couldn’t make that sting less.

Not that I wanted this. If I had a choice, I’d run. But I was already caged. Compliance was my only currency.

The matrona raked her eyes over me from head to toe, clearly debating whether I was fit to stand before the king. In the end, she had no choice but to submit to Ser Sebastian’s authority.

I feared her, yes. But I also knew this: by royal edict, every concubine’s life was held as valuable as the king’s own. No servant. No soldier. No one could harm me here.

That knowledge was the only thing keeping me upright.

After a long, withering inspection, the matrona finally took me from Ser Sebastian and ordered the ladies to escort me inside.

The bathhouse stunned me. I had never seen a tub so large. And six servants—six—moved around me, preparing the water, the oils, the cloths.

Rose and vanilla clung to every inch of my skin. Their sweetness seeped into my pores. I had never lived like this. Not once in my entire existence had anyone washed me in a bathtub.

Now six people were doing it.

And I was being groomed for the king’s chambers.

The thought made me shudder. I hadn’t even seen his face since I arrived. What kind of creature was I being prepared for?

Coming here was my biggest mistake. But there was no turning back. I was his concubine now. Even if it cost me my pride. Even if it cost me everything.

After the bath, the maids escorted me to the dressing room. They rifled through gown after gown, debating colors.

“Blue. It will make her silver hair shine.”

“Red. She would be stunning in red.”

“Yellow, surely—”

"Blue,” the first insisted. “Trust me.”

We were so caught up in the argument that none of us noticed the matrona had entered.

“What is this commotion?” She fanned herself slowly, her eyes already finding me.

The ladies bowed their heads. The matrona’s gaze pinned me where I stood. Smoldering. Devouring. I forced myself not to shrink.

“Is there a reason the concubine is still in her chemise?”

One maid looked up. “We beg your pardon, lady matrona. We were still preparing Lady Cielle’s dress.”

“Aren’t you aware we’ve kept His Majesty waiting? He grows more impatient by the moment.”

“We apologize. Give us a few moments. Lady Cielle will be ready—”

“No.” The matrona snapped her fan shut. “We do not have the luxury of time. She goes as she is.”

My breath caught. My chemise was thin. Revealing. My cleavage was fully exposed. But the matrona’s decision was final.

“Lady matrona,” one of the maids dared, “would it not be disrespectful to send her inthisstate?”

I wasn’t sure if she cared about me or simply feared looking incompetent. Either way, it didn’t matter. These women weren’t here to serveme. They served the king. I was just the vessel.

“She should have known better by now.” The matrona pointed a finger at me. “Now move along, you.”

She escorted me herself. The Wyzferian castle’s chill crawled up my bare skin, but I didn’t complain. Complaints meant punishment.

When we reached the double marble doors of the king’s chambers, she stopped.

“We’re here.”

I turned my head toward her. Nervousness was winning. My knees shook just looking at those towering doors. Every instinct screamedrun.

But the matrona shoved me forward.

“You better please the king well,” she hissed, “or you’ll die before the sun even rises.”

Right. Tonight was the blood moon. The night the king’s libido peaked. And here I was, barefoot in a chemise, being pushed inside.

The marble door closed behind me.

The chamber was obscene with wealth. Gold ornaments. Red drapes cascading from the ceiling. Chairs, tables, closets, even the bed frame—all solid gold. The moonlight made everything gleam.

A scent hung in the air. Grape wine mixed with a sweet perfume I’d never encountered.

And then I saw him.

A man’s outline on the bed. My heart hammered so hard I thought it would stop. The king. That was him. Thick creamy curtains veiled his face, but my curiosity pulled me forward step by step.

I reached the foot of the bed.

And froze.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think the most terrifying beast in all of Wyzferia would turn out to be the most stunningly beautiful man I had ever seen.

The Demon King.

He rose from the bed. Set his goblet on the nightstand. Towered over me. The top of my head barely reached his chest.

His hand touched my chin.

The warmth of his palm sent a pulse of heat through me—hotter than any inferno. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He lifted my face to examine me, and I nearly fainted from the sheer beauty of him.

Then he spoke.

“Have you come to offer your body and soul to please me, woman?” His voice was sin and thunder. “If you do a good job, I can give you anything you desire most.”

“Anything?” The word came out breathless.

“Anything. Do you have something in mind?”

“Y-yes.”

“Tell me.”

I lifted my chin. Braved my heart.

“You, Your Majesty. I only want you.”

He grinned.

And the night began.