Cassian’s breath stalled the instant her face tilted into the light.
It was impossible.
The last place in the realms he’d ever imagined seeing her was here, in the Demon’s concubine hall, with the Fourth Demon Lord’s hand claiming her arm as though she belonged there. With the status of his mate.
For a heartbeat, he almost convinced himself it was someone else, just a resemblance and nothing more, a trick of shadow and torchlight...but no, it was all real. The curve of her cheek, the unyielding grace in the line of her neck, the subtle tilt to her lips when she was hiding a thought...
It was her.
Princess Aurelia. The source of thɪs content is NoveI-Fire.ɴet
A name he hadn’t let himself think of in years.
Once, when the world was still too big for him and his place in it too small, she’d been the only one who never made him feel the difference. She had carried a title like a crown and walked halls he could never step into, yet she’d never looked at him with that faint, polite distance nobles kept for those beneath them.
No—she’d looked at him like an equal. Like his commoner status did not matter.
And now... here she was, wearing that same serene poise, but the distance between them felt wider than ever.
But why was she even here in the demon realm? Wasn’t she just a human like him? But he realized how useless those thoughts were—if he could be here, then why couldn’t she? In fact, her presence here made even more sense than his, considering her brother was the Supreme Lord himself.
His heart gave a strange, heavy bob in his chest. He didn’t blink. Didn’t even pretend to. Even when a cold, razor-edged glare slid over him from the man at her side—a warning for him to look away from his mate. But still Cassian didn’t look away.
And then, like some invisible thread had tugged her chin, her gaze shifted.
She met his eyes.
It was as if the air between them buckled.
Her step faltered, just a fraction, but enough that he caught it. Her fingers tightened minutely on the arm of the Fourth Demon Lord. And in those wide, stunned eyes, Cassian saw it...recognition.
She remembered him.
Good.
At least he hadn’t been so utterly worthless as to be erased from her memory.
On the other side of the hall, Aurelia’s lungs refused to work. The crowd, the music, and the murmur of conversation all faded to a dull hum, as if she were underwater.
Her mind tripped over itself, trying to decide whether it was truly him or just some phantom conjured by guilt. Five years had passed. Five long years since the day her impulsive choice had shattered everything, since her mistake had dragged him to his death—at least, the death she believed had claimed him.
And yet here he was.
Older and Sharper. The boyish glint she remembered had been scoured away, replaced by something quieter, more dangerous. His face no longer opened itself to the world; every line was disciplined, every flicker of expression carefully guarded.
The only thing the years hadn’t touched was the way his eyes pinned her, as if she were the only person in the room worth looking at.
She couldn’t meet that gaze for long. Not when she wasn’t sure she deserved to.
Not when she wasn’t sure she could survive what might come next.
Aurelia still wasn’t sure.
The face, the eyes—god, those eyes—but the years could play cruel tricks on memory. It could be a stranger with a resemblance, and her heart was a fool for leaping the way it did.
But then—someone in the crowd spoke his name.
Cassian.
The sound sliced through the fog in her mind, every syllable ringing too true to mistake.
Her chest tightened. It was him. It had to be.
Across the hall, Cassian’s jaw clenched. The weight of the room, the stares, the air thick with politics and memory—it was suddenly too much. Every breath scraped his lungs raw. The moment his name left the third demon king’s lips, something inside him decided.
He wasn’t staying here.
Not another goddamn second.
Without a word, he turned on his heel, his stride loose enough to look casual, sharp enough to be final. The murmurs rose as he cut through the hall, ignoring the pressure of the Third Demon King’s voice calling after him—light, almost teasing, but lacking its usual bite. Cassian didn’t slow.
If anything, he felt as though the king was letting him go.
Why? He didn’t know. Maybe he had his own reasons. Maybe he thought it better Cassian be far from here; maybe he was protecting him from something.
Whatever the truth, Cassian didn’t care to ask.
The doors loomed ahead. His pulse thundered in his ears. He just needed to get outside, into air that wasn’t choked with ghosts.
Behind him, Aurelia’s breath hitched.
She’d heard his name. She wasn’t imagining it.
Her body moved before her mind could catch up, instinct carrying her forward.
"Cassian!"
The name tore from her lips before she could decide if calling him was wise. It was the first time in five years she’d said it aloud. It felt foreign and painfully familiar all at once.
He didn’t stop.
She took a step, then another, until a firm grip caught her wrist.
She spun, startled, only to find her mate, the Fourth Demon King, his dark eyes narrowed in a frown that was all warning and no warmth.
Her fingers twitched in his grasp. "Malakar, please—"
There was no room for hesitation in her voice, only a quiet plea that made his brow furrow deeper.
Something passed between them...
Then, after a beat, his hand loosened.
But as he let her go, his voice dropped low, each word edged with steel.
"Don’t talk to him much," he said. "He is not a good person."
Aurelia’s gaze flickered past him to where Cassian’s back was already slipping into the shadows beyond the door.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, loud enough she swore Malakar could hear it.
Not a good person? Him? Or was she the bad one here?