Page 142 of The Princess and Her Grand King

Many high lords nodded, some even wore smiles that were rarely seen in the cold austerity of court.

Daemonikai’s chest swelled with pride. It rushed through him, warming him like a draught of fine wine.

He had expected a long, tiring resistance. A slow, uphill battle to win over the court.

But here she was, his woman, making impressive progress. Already she was bridging the gap with her sincerity and strength.

Emeriel raised her head, tears falling from her eyes. She gave them a watery smile, wiping her cheeks. “Thank you, everyone, for hearing me out.”

They might be doing more than just hearing you out, Beloved.

As the applause quieted, a few high lords rose from their seats… andtilted their heads to the side.

Emeriel was confused.

Keeping her eyes on them, she inched closer to him. "What are they doing?" she whispered in apprehension.

But Daemonikai could not speak for he was stunned. He hadn't expected this, not so soon.

“Your Grace?” she whispered again, her tone uncertain.

“They are acknowledging your greater position,” Henry interjected. Merilyn’s bondmate.

He rose to his feet. “Princess, it means that the high lords of Urai are willing to give you the chance and support you asked for.”

“Our Grand King was right, we wouldn’t have him here today if not for you,” Belzebob said, his gruff voice now surprisingly gentle, rising as well. “And you may not realize it, but we do not take our Ultimate Ruler lightly. His well-being is deeply tied to ours.”

“Our people are fiercely attached to him,” Gaff added, standing beside Belzebob. “And if there’s even a sliver of hope that he could find happiness again, we do not wish to stand in the way.”

Henry inclined his head. “So, to show that we not only grant you the chance you asked for but also acknowledge you as the female he is courting, we bare our necks to you.”

One by one, the standing lords mirrored the gesture, their throats exposed.

***

Rooted to the spot, Emeriel could only stare at the lords before her, floored by their gesture. Words evaded her entirely.

“Do not keep them waiting, dearest,” Daemonikai murmured, his tone as tender as it was encouraging.

“I-I don’t know what to do.”

He smiled softly, his eyes gleaming with pride. “Walk to them, one by one, and press your nose to their necks to accept the respect they offer. Take it as they give it.”

Having witnessed this sacred gesture before, Emeriel understood the weight of the act.

This was not a mere acknowledging her, they wereacceptingher. Offering her not only respect but also a tentative trust.

It was more than she’d dared to hope for.

Joy rose within her, a budding warmth spreading to every corner of her being, awakening a hope that shone like a newborn sun deep in her chest.

Sniffling, she steeled herself, forcing her legs to move even as her sore muscles protested.

She reached Lord Gaff, who bent slightly to meet her, sparing her the discomfort of standing on her toes.

Heart pounding, Emeriel leaned in and pressed her nose gently to his neck, the act both humbling and empowering.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

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