I have some conditions

Elysia's heart pounded in her chest, steady but relentless, a war drum beneath her ribs.

She forced herself to remain calm, to keep her shoulders straight, her chin high, but beneath the surface, tension coiled around her like a viper waiting to strike.

She had known this moment would come. She had prepared for it.

And yet, standing here—standing before her—was something else entirely.

Malvoria was…

Intimidating.

No. That word wasn't enough. It didn't capture the sheer presence the Demon Queen commanded.

The first thing Elysia noticed was her size. Malvoria was taller than she had imagined, her frame powerful, broad-shouldered and battle-hardened.

Her commandant uniform, all black and crimson with gleaming silver buckles, clung to her body in a way that made it impossible not to notice the sculpted muscle beneath.

Then there was her face.

Sharp, almost cruel in its perfection, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Her gray eyes were the color of an oncoming storm—cold, calculating, but burning with something dangerous.

And her hair—gods, her hair—long and thick, a cascade of molten red framing her face and spilling over her shoulders like fire.

The red horns protruding from her forehead only added to her presence, making her look like some ancient war goddess stepping from the ruins of a battlefield, victorious and untouchable.

Her arms were crossed, and Elysia's gaze flickered—tattoos. Black, winding patterns stretched over her forearms and disappeared beneath the uniform's sleeves, intricate and unreadable. They pulsed faintly with magic, as if alive beneath her skin.

Malvoria looked every bit the conqueror.

Elysia swallowed, willing her nerves to settle.

You knew this was coming. You planned for this.

She kept her face carefully neutral, her violet eyes unwavering as she met Malvoria's piercing gaze.

She would not kneel. She would not cower.

Because she was not here to surrender.

She was here to negotiate.

The plan had been simple, though simple did not mean safe.

Seraphina and Zera had argued, had raged against her decision. But Elysia had stood firm.

If she was going to be taken, she would not go as a prisoner. She would go on her own terms.

And so, she had set her conditions.

The first was her father. He had to live.

The second—Zera would stay with her.

A prisoner with leverage was better than a prisoner without it.

And right now, this was the only leverage she had.

Malvoria tilted her head slightly, as if assessing her, as if waiting for her to break under the weight of the moment.

Elysia inhaled slowly, masking the flicker of unease creeping up her spine.

And then she spoke.

"I came," she said, her voice even. "But if you expect me to simply surrender without conditions, you're mistaken."

Silence.

Then—

A slow, amused smirk curved over Malvoria's lips.

The sight of it sent an unwelcome shiver down Elysia's spine.

"Conditions?" Malvoria echoed, her voice smooth, deceptively calm.

Elysia steeled herself. "Two."

She lifted her chin, meeting Malvoria's gaze with everything she had left in her.

"My father stays alive."

No flicker of surprise crossed Malvoria's features. If anything, her smirk deepened.

"Go on," she murmured.

Elysia's fingers twitched slightly at her sides.

"And Zera stays with me."

A beat of silence.

Then Malvoria let out a soft, amused chuckle.

Elysia's stomach tightened.

She wasn't sure if that was a good sign.

"You," Malvoria said, gray eyes gleaming with something unreadable, "are the first person who has ever stood before me and dared to set conditions."

Elysia swallowed.

Malvoria took a slow step forward.

Elysia forced herself to stay rooted in place.

Another step.

The guards around them shifted slightly, tense, but Malvoria paid them no mind.

By the time she stopped, she was too close, the heat of her body a stark contrast to the cool night air.

Elysia clenched her fists, willing herself to hold steady.

Malvoria studied her, gaze flickering over her features, as if seeing her for the first time—not just the princess, not just the heir of a fallen kingdom, but her.

A long, agonizing silence stretched between them.

Then—

"Fine. I accept."

It was too easy.

Elysia knew better than to believe Malvoria would simply accept her conditions without a price.

Nothing in this world came without cost especially not when dealing with a conqueror, a demon, a woman who had burned her kingdom to the ground just to get what she wanted.

And yet, Malvoria had said it.

"Fine. I accept."

Elysia didn't let her relief show. She held Malvoria's gaze, unwilling to break eye contact, unwilling to show any flicker of weakness.

But then, as expected, Malvoria's smirk returned.

"And tell me, little princess," she murmured, her voice as smooth as silk laced with steel, "what exactly will your Zera be doing by your side?"

Elysia tensed, her mind working quickly.

It was a trap. A test.

She could feel Malvoria studying her, waiting for an answer that would reveal more than Elysia wanted to give.

Elysia lifted her chin slightly. "She will be my bodyguard."

A slow blink.

"Your bodyguard," Malvoria repeated, her tone unreadable.

"I do not trust your people," Elysia continued, steady but firm. "I don't know them. I don't trust them to have my safety as their priority. But I trust Zera."

There.

A fair, logical answer.

One Malvoria would have no reason to refute.

And yet—

Malvoria's smirk disappeared.

The air in the room shifted, thickening like the pressure before a storm.

Malvoria exhaled softly, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her gray eyes darkened, the light of the torches reflecting off the silver in them like a blade catching the sun.

"You do not trust my people," she echoed, softer this time.

Elysia didn't respond.

Malvoria let the silence stretch between them, her expression unreadable.

Then, her voice dropped, quiet yet filled with something dangerous, something final.

"Do you think that, here, in my castle, someone would dare to harm you?"

Elysia's pulse jumped.

"You are not a prisoner," Malvoria continued, her voice gaining weight, power. "You are not some weak little captive cowering in the shadows. You are going to be my future wife."

Elysia's breath caught.

The words hit her like a physical thing, sharp and unyielding.

Malvoria took another slow step forward, closing what little space remained between them.

"My people do not harm what is mine," she said, her tone edged with authority. "And make no mistake, princess—you are mine now."

Elysia refused to step back, refused to break the stare, even as her entire body tensed at the sheer weight of Malvoria's words.

She had expected Malvoria to say something, to assert some kind of control, to remind her of the reality of her situation.

But to say it like that—to lay claim to her so effortlessly, so boldly was something else entirely.

Elysia clenched her jaw, but before she could formulate a response, Malvoria turned slightly, glancing at one of the guards.

"Bring her to a guest room so she can have a shower."