Page 16 of A Heart Disguised 1

Long blond hair cascaded down the slender form, clinging to damp skin like spun silk. The face that came into focus was heart-shaped and utterly beautiful, with pouty lips and large, expressive eyes the color of emeralds framed by long dark lashes. The skin was pale and flawless, like fine porcelain.

But it was the body that made Darius’ eyes widen in shock. The chest, while slender, was decidedly flat, with small, perky nipples visible through the wet fabric of the undergarment. The waist was narrow, the hips slim. This was no woman’s form, but that of a boy—a stunningly beautiful one, but a boy nonetheless.

Rage at the deception warred with an unexpected surge of attraction. Despite his usual disinterest in humans, Darius found himself captivated by the androgynous beauty before him. It was easy to see how this boy could pass as a woman, especially from a distance, with his ethereal grace and delicate features.

As he watched through the starling’s eyes, the boy cupped his hands tenderly around the injured bird. To Darius’ surprise, a soft glow began to emanate from the young man’s palms, bathing the creature in gentle, healing light.

Magic, Darius realized with a start. His “bride” possessed healing abilities—a rare and precious gift in these lands, one that spoke of a gentle heart and nurturing spirit. As the warm glow faded, the starling chirped happily, its injuries melting away under the boy’s careful ministrations.

“Well,” the boy murmured, his voice soft and melodious like wind chimes in a summer breeze, “I suppose you’d like to stay with us, little one? Very well, I shall call you Starling, for your resilience.”

The sound of that voice stirred something deep within Darius, awakening thoughts and desires he hadn’t experienced in centuries. His mind wandered to more intimate possibilities before he forcefully returned his attention to the matter at hand, though the lingering effect of that musical voice remained.

As he observed this fascinating creature, a memory surfaced from the depths of his mind. The final passage of the investigation report on House Aldercrest had mentioned, almost as an afterthought, that Lord Aldercrest had sired a bastard son named Robin, a youth of eighteen years often mistaken for a maiden.

Robin. A name as ambiguous as the boy himself, suited to both man and maid. The pieces of this intricate puzzle fell into place with a clarity that was both satisfying and infuriating, like a sweet wine with a bitter aftertaste.

The cunning nobleman had sent his bastard son in place of his trueborn daughters—Rosalind and Lily—deeming Robin expendable in this dangerous game of politics and power. It was a clever ploy, preserving his bloodline from demonic “taint” while still appearing to honor the agreement, though the callousness of sacrificing his own child stirred something dark within Darius.

As Robin, now fully attired in his feminine guise, made his way back to the carriage with surprising grace despite his earlier clumsiness, Darius withdrew his consciousness from the avian spies. All but the newly christened Starling returned to their silent watch, the bird seemingly content to remain close to its gentle savior—an unexpected advantage that brought a slight smile to Darius’ lips.

Despite his fury at the deception, Darius couldn’t deny the growing fascination that tugged at his centuries-old heart. The boy’s ethereal beauty, nascent magical prowess, and even his endearingly clumsy attempts at stealth had awakened something within him—a spark of genuine interest that burned brighter with each new discovery. The potential here, both politically and personally, whispered of possibilities too intriguing to ignore in favor of mere retribution.

A knock at the door interrupted his reverie. He looked up, realizing with a start that the room had grown dark during his observations, the shadows lengthening like his own tumultuous thoughts. A servant entered, bowing low.

“Your Grace,” the man said, “dinner is served. Your lieutenants and the grand duke await you in the dining hall.”

Darius stood, his mind still swimming with the implications of what he’d discovered. As he made his way to the dining hall, he couldn’t shake the image of Robin from his mind.

This arrangement had just become far more intriguing than he’d anticipated. Darius allowed himself a small predatory smile. Oh yes, he would enjoy this game with Robin, toying with the boy who dared to come to him in disguise. The prospect was thrilling, a challenge he hadn’t faced in centuries. And when Robin finally arrived at the castle… well, that would be a meeting to savor, as Darius slowly revealed his knowledge of the deception.

As he entered the dining hall, Darius schooled his features into their usual impassive mask. His lieutenants and Ignis were already seated, an eclectic gathering if ever there was one. Ignis’ fiery presence seemed to fill the room, his vibrant energy a counterpoint to the more restrained auras of Darius’ underlings.

As Darius approached the head of the table, he took in the sight of his assembled lieutenants. Sir Zephyr sat to the right of Darius’ empty chair. Next to Zephyr, Sir Thorne’s crimson skin and tribal tattoos commanded attention, his muscular frame coiled with barely contained power. Beside Thorne, Sir Vex’s reptilian features glinted in the candlelight, his emerald scales catching the light. Across the table, Sir Fenris’ wolflike features were alert, his silver fur bristling slightly, while at the far end, Sir Orion’s pale-blue skin seemed to glow faintly, his frost patterns shifting subtly in the warm room.

“Ah, there you are!” Ignis boomed from his place of honor to the left of Darius’ chair, raising a glass in Darius’ direction. “We were beginning to think you’d gotten lost in your own castle.”

Darius inclined his head in acknowledgment, his eyes sweeping over his assembled advisors before he took his seat at the head of the table. “My apologies for the delay,” he said, his voice betraying nothing of his earlier musings. “I had some… interesting developments to consider regarding our upcoming nuptials.”

Zephyr turned slightly to face his lord, his eyes meeting Darius’ golden ones. “Interesting developments, Your Grace?” he inquired, his voice as smooth as silk. “Perhaps something our soon-to-arrive bride should be concerned about?”

Darius allowed a hint of amusement to color his tone. “Oh, I believe our bride will find the situation… most enlightening when the time comes.”

6

Darius

The first light of dawn crept through the windows of the study, and Darius allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation as he gazed at the sprawling view below. The city was his greatest achievement, a shining example of the integration of humans and demons under his rule. As the sun climbed higher, the streets began to fill with life, a harmonious blend of two worlds that had once been at war.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his musings. “Enter,” Darius commanded.

Clarence stepped in with a bow. “Your Grace, I’ve brought your morning reports and correspondence.”

Darius nodded, moving to his desk. “Thank you, Clarence. Has there been any word from the Aldercrest party?”

“They’re expected to arrive within a few days, Your Grace,” Clarence replied, placing a stack of papers on the desk.

Darius felt a flutter of anticipation in his chest, quickly suppressed. “Very well. That will be all.”

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