The air in the carriage was heavy with silence.

  Cassian’s two personal guards, Kayen and Maelis, stared at the demon standing openly among the gathered leaders. The creature wasn’t hidden, not cloaked or masked, not pretending to be something else; it was just brazenly and unabashedly there. The demon stood with its arms folded, eyes half-lidded, a head taller than the average man. A chaotic aura poured from him that Cassian and the others could feel from behind the carriage walls.

  Kayen exhaled slowly through his nose. “Well,” he muttered, “we’re fucked.”

  Maelis nodded, lips tightening as she leaned to peer past him. “What are we going to do, my lord?”

  Cassian sat back in his seat, rubbing at his temples with the desperation of a man fighting off a migraine that had already buried itself deep. “We hope Morgan and Selene know what they’re doing.”

  “Of course they know,” Maelis said, crossing her arms. “They’re smart enough to know exactly what this looks like.”

  Kayen gnced at her, brow raised. “The question is, do they care?”

  That shut Cassian up for a long moment. His gaze drifted toward the crowd, to where Selene stood with her golden eyes shining in the sun, and Morgan beside her, calm and composed. The demon beside them was grinning with pride. The demon leaned over to whisper something in Morgan's ear that was received with an eye roll.

  Cassian saw the familiarity between them and how Morgan had positioned him to her direct right.

  Cassian groaned softly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they did this on purpose. Bait the Sanctum into something stupid, use it as an excuse to kick them out.”

  Kayen blinked. “You think they’d go that far?”

  Cassian met his gaze evenly. “Tell me that doesn’t sound exactly like them.”

  Kayen said nothing, because it did.

  The carriage began to slow. The sounds of the city beyond the gates—roaring crowds, music, and shouted trades bled away as they reached the wide crystal pza of the Clock Hand Tower. It was so rge that it comfortably held the entire entourage. Cassian looked between his two guards, resigned. “Well,” he said, straightening his coat, “let’s get this over with.”

  Kayen and Maelis exchanged a look that could only be described as weary amusement before stepping out first. They scanned the crowd, then nodded to Cassian. He followed, descending from the carriage.

  All eyes turned briefly toward Cassian, then they looked to their young princess.

  Selene found his gaze instantly. She smiled, soft and unreadable, and inclined her head in greeting. Cassian returned it, the motion precise, almost formal. The District Leaders saw the look in Selene's eyes, it was quite affectionate, but there wasn't hate or loathing either. At least in their eyes, she looked favorably on this Crown Prince. That was good enough.

  They then turned her attention elsewhere. It was not their pce to meddle in the personal affairs of royals. Cassian's steps slowed as he reached the central gathering, bowing first to Morgan, then to the other leaders.

  “Crown Prince Cassian Valenfor,” Morgan said, her tone even. “Welcome back to the Hallows.”

  “It’s good to be back,” he said. He turned to Selene. “Where’s Lyssara Caelthorne?”

  Selene’s lips curved into an amused half-smile. “Since coming here, despite my warnings. She has made it a habit of getting lost in The Great Hall's Library. I sent someone to fetch her. Once she hears Princess Seraphine’s here, she’ll come running.”

  Cassian almost smiled. “That sounds about right.”

  Cassian hesitated, then leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Selene. What’s the pn for expining the demons?”

  Her brow furrowed faintly. “What do you mean?”

  He tilted his head toward the towering, obvious purple man with horns, standing beside Morgan. “That.”

  Selene followed his gaze, blinked once, then exhaled softly. “Shit,” she said. “Forgot about that.”

  Cassian stared at her, incredulous. “You...forgot?”

  Her golden eyes flicked back to him, bright with amusement. “Cassian,” she said, as though expining something simple to a child, “I live with them. Eat beside them. I govern them. Why would I think to expin it?”

  It clicked for him in that moment. She didn’t say it to be clever. To her, this was normal.

  Selene caught the complex mix of realization and despair twisting across his face and broke into ughter, the sound light and clear.

  Cassian sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Oh, good. You were joking.”

  "I'm not." Selene's face was ft and even, and then her lips slowly curved into a mischievous grin. “Well, I'm half joking”

  Cassian blinked, exasperated. “Of course you were.”

  She giggled again, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh, don’t look so horrified. They live here. It’s normal.”

  “Normal?” Cassian said ftly. “The Sanctum priests are about to melt their own faces.”

  "Oh dear, don't threaten me with a good time, Prince. That would be quite the delightful sight,” she said, smiling as though that made it better. She saw the look of aggravation on Cassian's face. She enjoyed seeing him so out of his element. It brought her a tinge of sadistic joy.

  Selene eased her teasing.

  "As I said. I'm half joking. I know their presence will cause trouble—but if the Sanctum can’t accept the truth, they can leave.”

  Cassian stared at her, speechless. She turned back toward the gathered leaders as if she’d just commented on the weather.

  The other rulers of the Hallows heard her words and smiled faintly. Morgan said nothing, but a small, knowing smirk flickered on her lips. Selene had spoken aloud what they all thought.

  Laughter came next, rolling through the courtyard like thunder.

  “Well said, little one!” The voice was booming, joyous, unmistakable.

  Rhydan Altheryon strode forward from among his retinue, the sun fshing off the golden runes that adorned his robes. His grin was wide, dangerous, and deeply fond. “A monarch does not expin their decisions. We decre them! Those who disagree have three choices!” He held up his fingers, ticking them off with relish. “Change their minds. Leave our nds. Or die!”

  He ughed again, louder, his deep voice shaking the pza stones.

  Before anyone could stop him, he swept Selene up into his massive arms and spun her around as though she were still a child.

  Selene let out a startled yelp that broke into a ugh. It was bright, real, the kind that escaped before you remembered who was watching. For a heartbeat, all the poised grace of the Crown Princess vanished, and she was just a girl smiling in her grandfather’s arms.

  When Rhydan finally set her down, her ughter lingered, soft and uncertain. She felt something in his embrace that she hadn’t known she missed—warmth. Genuine, careless, overwhelming warmth.

  Her grandmother, Morgan, had always been kind, but her gentleness was the cold sort: patient, wise, reserved. Rhydan’s love was wild and loud, unashamed. For the first time, Selene wondered if her mother, Rhydan's daughter, had shared that same fire.

  “Dearest,” said a calm, commanding voice behind them, “release my Granddaughter before you crush her.”

  Rhydan’s head wife approached with the composure of someone who had long since given up trying to control the firestorm made flesh, and simply learned to redirect it. Her bronze skin gleamed with sunlight, her eyes deep emerald, her robes shimmering threads of desert silk.

  Empress Ilyra of the Opal Oasis, the first and most dangerous of Rhydan’s wives, and Selene's biological grandmother.

  Rhydan ughed, unbothered. “She’s sturdier than she looks!”

  Ilyra raised one brow. “So are all of your children and grandchildren. All of them have had something broken under your grand showings of affection.”

  She looked towards Selene, still trapped in Rhydan's grip, smiling gently,

  "I'd rather you not break something on the only child left to me from my daughter."

  Rhydan grumbled good-naturedly and finally set Selene gently on her feet. “Bah. You haven't seen her in action. You worry too much.”

  Before anyone could say another word, the sound of running feet filled the courtyard.

  Children—at least a dozen of them—burst from the crowd like an invading army.

  Rhydan’s youngest children and grandchildren, a chaotic blur of silk, dust, and questions.

  “Are you our cousin?” one shouted.

  “No, idiot!” another protested. “She’s our niece!”

  “Ohhh!” said a third, eyes wide with theatrical realization. “Then she has to show proper respect to her elders. Come give me a bow!”

  “She’s older than us, stupid,” a fourth retorted. “And she’s the Crown Princess!”

  A synchronized gasp. Then all of them bowed at once, tripping over one another in a tangle of limbs and apologies.

  One boy, small and sharp-eyed, peered up at her. “She’s got Father’s eyes and hair, but why’s she so pale?”

  Their mothers stepped in, all smiles and sighs. “She’s part elf,” one expined patiently. Selene angled her head and pulled her hair back, showing her pointed ears. “See her ears? Also, she hasn’t visited us in the desert yet. The sun here’s gentle.”

  Then, in perfect unison, the children chorused, “Ooooooooooohhh.”

  Selene covered her mouth to keep from ughing. The sound still escaped her, light and musical.

  For a moment, the city itself seemed to share in it—tension melting away into something warm and human.

  Valerion Ashmar Valenfor, standing at the edge of the commotion, shook his head slowly. “Just as rowdy as their emperor,” he muttered.

  Rhydan turned and grinned, pride and mischief all in one. “They’ll be your in-ws soon enough, Valerion! Best get used to it!”

  Rhydan let out a booming ugh, and the children and grandchildren joined him in his ughter, like tiny copies of the mighty Emperor.

  Valerion sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t remind me.”

  He took a step forward, his gaze drifting toward Morgan. In a rare act of galntry, he took her hand and bowed, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “The silver lining to being tied to that boisterous baboon,” he said, eyes glinting, “is that it gives me reason to seek you out whenever I please.”

  A ripple went through the Hallows leaders.

  Morgan arched an eyebrow, expression cool but eyes amused. “You may seek me when I please, Emperor.”

  Valerion’s smirk deepened. “Then I shall wait eagerly, for as long as desire permits.”

  “Careful, human,” the Demon murmured. “You might find her desires to be far more sparse than you'd like.”

  Laughter rolled through the gathering again, even from Morgan herself. The Leaders of the Hallows respected only strength, courage, and duty. There was nothing to be said about the Warlock Emperor; if he was half the person his daughter was, then they could welcome him warmly. However, they had no bearing on the Emperor of Valenfor.

  But any human bold enough to flirt so boldly with The First Witch, and not only leave with their life, but find success... they would have to be someone worth their attention.

  The tension that had hovered since their arrival finally seemed to crack—

  Until the voice came.

  “What bsphemy is this!?”

  The words hit the courtyard like a thundercp. Every head turned.

  A bishop in gold-stitched robes stood near the Sanctum delegation, face white with fury, finger extended toward the demon standing beside Morgan. His voice carried the venom of certainty, of a man who believed the gods themselves were listening.

  “Demons and monsters?! Standing in council?! I could stomach them as guards and fodder for war. But city leaders?” he shouted. “You would defile this sacred joining?!”

  The ughter died instantly. The air thickened, heavy as stone.

  Even the children went silent, instinctively sensing the danger in the bishop’s tone. The demon didn’t move. He simply tilted his head, eyes bright with something that might have been amusement or contempt.

  The other leaders of the Hallows turned in eerie unison, their collective attention enough to make the bishop take half a step back.

  Rhydan’s grin vanished. Selene’s hands slowly fell to her sides. Valerion folded his arms, his attention looking past the bishop towards the Pontifex, who stood there in stunned silence alongside Augustine as they stared at the Demon before them. Morgan stood there in silence as she stared at the Bishop. She made a simple head motion towards the Demon, who bowed gracefully and stepped forward.

  "Tell me, father. Do you have an issue with my presence?"