The Demons

"Cup bearer?" Iris couldn't stop the words from rolling off her tongue.

What was this monster aiming at?

"Your work starts now." Tryphon said, and she could have sworn she saw him smirk before it faded instantly.

"You are to be by my side 24/7. I hate empty cups," He added before turning to leave the kitchen.

Leaving not only Iris but also Martha and the rest frozen in shock.

"From a scullery maid to standing next to Prince Tryphon all day. Wow, Such a seductive slut you are," Lily said, vain and anger lined her words.

Martha could only glare at Iris.

"Well get to work already!" her words were even more bitter than usual.

"Right," Iris shovedher shock aside. Giving Martha one last glance, the woman who was about to throw her out. She raced out of the kitchen, hoping to catch up with Tryphon.

As expected, he was far gone by the time she was out in the corridors. At least she knows the way to his chamber. That was honestly the only place she could navigate in the castle on her own.

Opening the door that led to his study, she caught him sitting on the chair, dipping his pen in ink and scribbling something on the table.

Another man, who should be in his late sixties stood by his shoulder, watching him write in silence.

Her eyes drifted to the floor which was blood drenched less than an hour ago.

A dull ache spread through her chest. The pain numbed her whole body.

Matteo was killed in this same room. And now she has to step on the spot over and over again. She has to spend the entirety of her days here.

This man knew what he was doing. He was hurting her on purpose.

"Hey!" Tryphon's voice thundered through the walls. She shifted her gaze to him, and he shook his empty gold made cup in the air.

"Right," Her voice was barely audible.

She rushed to the table side, picked the big flagon that was filled with wine and poured it into his cup.

"Lord Chert?" Tryphon spoke.

"No, your grace. I will sit this one out," the old man said.

Iris took a step away from the table, the flagon still in her hands as she watched them discuss.

'At least, I have a place to stay. a safe place'

These words kept ringing in her head. Trying to convince her that this wouldn't be too bad.

But who was she kidding? This room and this man would always remain a dark reminder of how her Matteo lost his life. That too for a gem that was as tiny as the Taaffeite gem on her silver necklace.

She sighed, pressing the chain against her chest with her unoccupied hands.

This was the only memory of her mother.

She was grateful the thugs and thieves didn't pay enough attention to her neck. They would have taken it too.

Or maybe they took it for granted. What they don't know is that this was one of the most priceless jewels in the whole kingdom of Aestheria.

And it can only be found in her hometown, Aestheria.

"Your grace, The coronation shouldn't be delayed any further. It will be a sign of weakness. And we can't show that." Lord Chert's bickering caught Iris's attention.

"I still have some things to do as the enforcer before taking the throne." Tryphon's voice did not sound like he was trying to reason with the old man or give an explanation.

"Your grace,"

"Lord Chert, you are dismissed." Tryphon said.

"Your grace. We need to crown you right after the funeral tomorrow. You can hand the enforcer role to Prince Eamon," Lord chert spoke as he started exiting the study room.

"I said, you are dismissed. I'll hold a meeting with my siblings later," Tryphon's made the man rush a bow and then exit the room instantly.

"Hand it to Eamon?" Tryphon scoffed. "My foot!"

Just then, the door swung open with a force that could be tagged as disrespectful.

This made Iris flinch a bit.

Were they under attack?

Her eyes were fixed on the door.

Waiting for the attacker and lowkey hoping Tryphon was a good fighter.

"What's up Crown prince," A young man walked in with golden blonde hair and hazel eyes. A boyish grin was plastered on his face as he strode towards the table and sat opposite Tryphon.

"Or should I say, King." His tone was

low at the word 'king'.

"What? Wrath doesn't smile even though he's about to get crowned?" The man raised a brow.

At this point it was as if he was talking to himself. Tryphon wasn't even looking his way. His eyes, fixed on the letter he was writing.

"We just lost our Father, Eamon." Tryphon said and all Eamon did was roll his eyes.

So this was Prince Eamon? She had seen him at the table the other day and also in the ballroom. But both at incidents, she was occupied with other things to even capture his appearance.

He looked nothing like Tryphon. the hair, the eyes, and even the skin tone.

Eamon was way paler than Tryphon.

But one thing they all had in common was their well sculpted faces. their good looking faces made it look as though they chose what to look like by themselves.

"Oh, Tryphon, are your demons starting to become emotional?" Eamon pouted.

"Since when did you care about Father or death?" He added.

There was of course no answer from Tryphon.

"If the Demon of Wrath loses his powers, then he might as well pass the crown to the heir," Eamon smirk was so wide, it could be tagged creepy.

Tryphon slammed his fist on the table. Every ink, pen, paper, weapon shook at the friction.

Then he opened his palms to face upwards and created a fireball.

"Ahh!" Iris shrieked, putting a huge distance between them.

Her blue eyes were wide in fear.

Yes, she's aware that the royal family had powers and Demon blood. But she has never seen anything like it. And the fact that witches and magicians using their powers was strictly forbidden made her even more shocked.

The only powers that were legal were the non destructive ones, like healing powers.

"Where'd you get this pretty thing," Eamon's eyes left his brother's very terrifying fireball to stare at Iris.

She put her head down, avoiding his sharp gaze.

"A new cup bearer?" Eamon stared in delight.

"She must be good at bed-bearing too." He added laughing.

He was the only one who found the joke funny.

"Rihro!" Tryphon called, ignoring his stupid brother.

"Your grace," A guard ran in at the mention of his name.

"Get everyone together in the meeting hall. Now!" His tone screamed urgency and command.

Rihro left the room with the same urgency.

"What do you want, Eamon?" Tryphon faced his brother.

"Dishonestly, I want to say hello and talk about your next steps as the king." He yawned.

"But, Honestly, I just want you to die so I can take the throne and become king."

"Disaster," Tryphon mocked. "You as king will be the end of Aestheria. The citizens would rather drown themselves to death."

Even though Eamon tried to act as if the comment didn't bother him, hurt was written all over his eyes.

"So, you doubt my ruling abilities?" He scoffed.

"There's nothing in those Veins but greed." Tryphon touched Eamon's wrist.

"And you? Wrath? Can Wrath do anything better?"

Their words were confusing to Iris. But, it was none of her business. All she could do was ignore.

"Your grace," Rihro raced through the door.

"They are all informed." He said.

Tryphon and Eamon stood up almost at the exact same time. Leaving their bickering behind.

They were half way across the room when Tryphon looked back and said to Iris, who was still standing, "I don't drink anything that is nog from that." he pointed at the flagon in her hands.

This was enough to race behind them and out of the room.

The room that they entered next was a big hall with a long table and chairs surrounding it.

Iris first spotted princess Magery who was busy checking herself in a mirror. A bitter scowl on her face as usual. Princess Myrine was seated far away from her, her head was kept high as usual.

Her wine colored hair rested on her shoulder. A beautiful woman filled with pride was a perfect explanation for her.

Right next to Myrine sat, A prince with dark chiseled hair, similar to Tryphon's. But he looked way younger. Probably the youngest among them all.

Tryphon and Eamon also took their seats while Iris stood beside Tryphon with his wine.

She was still wondering where the other princes were when the door flung open and a charming fairytale prince walked in.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, taking a seat.

Iris wondered why his voice alone was seductive.

"Since when do women attend important meetings?" he frowned.

These words were enough for Iris to discard every charming thought she has had about him.

"Since the Misogynistic father of yours passed away," Princess Myrine said as if she had kept those words specially for this moment. And as if he wasn't also her father.

The door swung open and a beautiful woman, with a crystal crown her head walked in.

Her dress was simple yet elegant.

She looked nothing like a woman who has birthed seven adult children.

The Queen of Aestheria.