Page 5 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

"What was it like? Being feral?" Vladya asked.

Daemonikai pondered the question. "Numb.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “Blank. It's difficult to describe."

Considering that Vladya was headed down that path, perhaps numbness wouldn't be such a terrible fate. If they let him live long enough to experience it, that is.

Ferals were killed on sight; they are simply too dangerous. The grand king was an anomaly, no one was ready to let go.

"It's late," Vladya broke the silence. "You need rest to recover. I'll take my leave."

His friend gave a nod, a weary acceptance in his eyes. "Very well. I will see you at sunrise."

Vladya reached the door, then paused, turning back. "Daemon?"

He looked up.

"I am sorry about your family. I know it would not ease your pain, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

Daemonikai swallowed tightly. "I am sorry about Tiara, too."

Vladya nodded, his throat clogged again. "Thank you for not dying on me." With that, he turned and left the chamber.

Chapter two

A SIGHT OF MY BEAST

Alone,GrandKingDaemonikaigazed up at the sky, observing the luminous quarter moon casting an ethereal glow upon the land. He lost himself in the endless expanse above, counting the stars in a futile attempt to escape the whispers of the memories.

Yet, try as he might, he could not silence them. Images surfaced with agonizing clarity, their faces etched in his mind.

Though the scent of Evie had long since faded, it made no difference. He was certain her fragrance still clung to the garments hidden away in their closet. Daemonikai would need to change the royal residence. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of her. Everywhere.

How does one begin to let go of their other half? How does one learn to live without the one who has been their constant companion for over four thousand years?

The weight of his loss pressed down upon him, suffocating him with its unbearable heaviness.Stop thinking. Shut it off.

He had not been entirely truthful with Vladya.

He remembered something, a fragment of memory that lingered. A scent. An intoxicating, alluring scent.

The details were hazy, a fleeting impression he could not quite grasp. He knew he would not recognize it if he smelled it again, but the memory of its uniqueness remained. It was not Vladya's scent either. Whose was it?

Was it merely a figment of his broken mind?

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the window, footsteps soft as he made his way towards the bed. Yet sleep refused to come.

Hours drifted by in a restless vigil.

Daemonikai did not mind. He would rather remain awake than have nightmares assail him once more.

His people needed him. For their sake, he would find strength.

Hours had passed, yet Grand Lord Zaiper remained trapped in a numbing fog of disbelief.

He moved through the motions like a hollow shell. It was as if some invisible puppeteer pulled his strings, leaving him to stumble through the night like a marionette.

He remembered smiling, clapping alongside the others when Daemonikai had risen. He hoped his smile had appeared genuine, that it looked convincing. That no one glimpsed the misery gnawing at his soul.

As they had escorted Daemonikai from the arena to the fortress, Zaiper hoped his trembling knees and bloodshot eyes had gone unnoticed. He could not recall the last time he had felt such profound anguish, such raw pain. He clutched his chest, overwhelmed by the agony.

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