Chapter 7

Morning had fallen in the Golden City, the palace bathed in a bright silver glow from the sun hanging high above. Inside Princess Selene's opulent quarters, the warmth of the rays of the sun illuminated the richly adorned room. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine oil, and the faint hum of birds from the gardens outside accompanied the quiet bustle of maids attending to their princess.

Selene sat before her grand vanity, her figure straight and poised as Jeria carefully applied powder to her already flawless skin. Her raven hair was twisted into elegant curls, woven with gold pins encrusted with emeralds that caught the light whenever she moved. Sadie hovered behind her, fastening an ornate necklace of diamonds and sapphires around her slender neck.

Selene studied her reflection with a sharp, calculating gaze. Her pale blue gown hugged her figure perfectly, every stitch and embellishment chosen to exude power and perfection. She had always been the center of attention, and today she intended to outshine every princess in the palace.

"Have you finished the necklace, Sadie?" Selene asked, her voice calm yet laced with authority.

"Yes, Your Highness," Sadie murmured, stepping back.

Selene smiled faintly, her lips curling as she admired herself. "Good. Everything must be perfect. Nothing less will do."

Meanwhile, beyond the grandeur of the royal quarters, Elowen toiled silently in the servants' wing. She knelt on the cold stone floor, her hands plunged into a bucket of soapy water as she scrubbed linens. The scent of soap and damp fabric filled the small room, and the faint murmur of voices from the other servants drifted through the open window.

Her body ached, the lingering fever from the night before making every movement more difficult. Yet, despite the strain, she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. The memory of last night—of Morris appearing in the kitchen, the way he had carried her so effortlessly, the moments of quiet between his teasing—lingered in her mind like a faint ember of warmth.

She hadn't seen him as anything but a monster when they first met, but there had been something in his eyes last night. Something unreadable.

In the endless twilight of Morris's realm, the atmosphere felt thick with power. The palace was a masterpiece of obsidian and gold, its sharp spires piercing the crimson sky. Time moved differently here; while the mortal world slept under the moonlight, Morris's realm bathed in a warm, eternal glow.

Elowen walked beside him, her steps hesitant as Morris led her through the grand halls of his palace. His hand rested lightly on her back, guiding her as his long coat trailed behind him. The air around them was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint hum of magic that seemed to pulse through the walls.

Servants lined the hallways, their heads bowed low as Morris passed. Their fear was palpable, their bodies stiff as though even breathing in his presence would earn his wrath. Elowen couldn't help but notice the way they trembled, the way their gazes remained fixed on the floor.

"Do they fear you?" she asked softly, unable to keep the question to herself.

Morris glanced at her, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint smirk. "They respect me," he corrected, his tone smooth and prideful. "Fear and respect are one and the same, little lamb."

Elowen didn't respond, but the unease in her chest grew with every step. She could feel the weight of his power, the way it seemed to ripple through the air around him.

The dining hall was nothing short of divine. The massive obsidian table stretched the length of the room, its surface inlaid with gold veins that seemed to shimmer with every flicker of light. The ceiling soared high above, adorned with constellations that moved and shifted, their stars twinkling faintly in the crimson glow. A chandelier made of crystalline flames hung overhead, casting a warm, flickering light that danced across the polished marble floor.

Morris gestured for her to sit, his golden eyes fixed on her as she lowered herself cautiously into one of the high-backed chairs. The seat felt too grand for her, the opulence of the room swallowing her in its enormity.

"Tell me," Morris said, his voice breaking the silence. "What would you like to eat?"

Elowen blinked at him, her green eyes wide with confusion. "What I want to eat?"

"Yes," he said, his tone patient, as though speaking to a child. "Anything you desire. Say it, and it will be yours."

For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if this was some sort of cruel game. But the ache in her stomach made the decision for her. "Fried chicken," she said quietly. "Peach petal soup… and roasted potatoes."

Morris smirked, raising a hand. The air crackled faintly, and in an instant, the table before her was filled with steaming dishes. The chicken was golden and crisp, the soup a delicate pink with fragrant petals floating atop it, and the potatoes were perfectly roasted, their skin crackling with herbs.

Elowen gasped, her eyes wide. "How did you—?"

"Magic," Morris said simply, his smirk widening. "Or did you think devils only deal in shadows and fire?"

Her stomach growled loudly, and she flushed with embarrassment. She glanced at him nervously before picking up a fork. As soon as the first bite of chicken hit her tongue, her eyes fluttered shut in delight. The flavors were rich and warm, each bite melting in her mouth. For a moment, she forgot herself, her hunger overtaking her as she ate with abandon.

Morris watched her with an amused expression, his golden eyes gleaming. "You eat like you've never seen food before."

Elowen paused, swallowing quickly as she glared at him. "I haven't eaten properly in days," she said bluntly.

"Is that so?" he said, leaning back in his chair. "Another mark of your charming princess, I assume."

Elowen's gaze dropped to her plate. "I'm used to it," she said softly. "People like me… we're always at the mercy of others."

For a moment, Morris didn't respond. His smirk faded slightly, and he studied her with an intensity that made her chest tighten.

"Used to it," he repeated quietly, almost to himself.

After her bath, the maids escorted Elowen to the Dream Garden. She stepped into the vast expanse of twilight, her breath catching as the beauty of the garden unfolded before her.

The sky above was a deep black, streaked with blue and silver hues. Comets streaked across the heavens, their trails lingering like ribbons of light. Trees with crystalline branches rained petals of every color, their soft, sweet scent filling the air. A phoenix soared gracefully overhead, its fiery wings casting warm light across the scene, and a soft melody hummed in the distance, as though the garden itself were singing.

Beneath a tree that shimmered with golden leaves sat Morris. He was dressed in a deep blue gown, its fabric flowing around him like water. A porcelain teacup rested in his hand, and his golden eyes gleamed as they met hers.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

Elowen flushed, quickly averting her gaze. She approached hesitantly, her feet brushing against the glowing grass.

"Sit," Morris commanded, gesturing to the seat across from him.

As she settled into the chair, Morris leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "Do you regret meeting me?"

Elowen looked away, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "I… I don't know," she admitted. "My life has always been full of misfortune. Maybe meeting you is just part of it."

Morris chuckled softly. "You wound me, little lamb."

She frowned, her green eyes meeting his. "Why did you bring me here?"

Morris leaned back, his smirk widening. "Because we're married now. Did you truly not realize what you were agreeing to when you completed the rites?"

Her jaw dropped. "You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie," he said smoothly. "I simply didn't tell you everything."

Elowen's hands clenched into fists. "You're insufferable."

"And you're outspoken for someone who belongs to me," Morris shot back, though his tone held amusement.

"Expect me always," Morris said, his golden eyes gleaming. "And never try to push me away."

Elowen glared at him. "You'll bring danger to me."

Morris leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Danger finds you regardless, little lamb. Make your choice—be my queen willingly or be my queen forcibly. Either way, you'll stay."

Elowen's breath caught as the phoenix cried softly overhead, its fiery wings painting the garden in gold.