THE DEMON LORD'S ACCIDENTAL TENTH WIFE

The grand hall doors swung open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with striking red hair strode in, flanked by a handful of men.

The High Court was filled with nobles, council members, and judges, yet as this stranger moved toward the throne, a heavy silence settled over the room.

His back.

Lucifer's stepbrother.

Azrael, the exiled prince.

"My Lord," Azrael said, dropping to one knee before Lucifer. His men followed suit, bowing their heads in submission. "It is I, Azrael, your brother."

A sharp murmur rippled through the court.

"What is he doing here?" one of the judges spat, but Lucifer silenced him with a single, chilling glare.

Lucifer leaned forward on his throne, resting his fingers against his chin as he studied the man before him. "Azrael. You dare return uninvited? You were exiled. Am I wrong?"

Azrael kept his head bowed. "No, my Lord. You are not wrong. But I have come with good news and—" He lowered both hands to the cold marble floor. "To serve you until my last breath."

Lucifer exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, he rolled his eyes.

"Serve me?" His voice was laced with amusement, yet edged with something darker. "I have countless beings—demons, creatures, deities—at my command. Why should your service be any different?"

His golden eyes glowed, daring Azrael to speak.

Azrael lifted his gaze, unwavering. "Because, my Lord… I am not here to take. I am here to give."

Lucifer smirked. "Then speak. And make it worth my time."

Azrael remained on his knees, his head bowed in submission. "I bring you more than my loyalty, my Lord. I bring you something far greater."

Lucifer arched a brow, unimpressed. "And what could that possibly be?"

Azrael took a slow breath. "The western lands—once ours, now lawless. The Dream Walkers are nearly extinct, hunted by Lycans who have taken control of the territory. The villages burn, the blood of your subjects stains the ground, and the creatures that once served you are being wiped out."

Lucifer's fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne. "And this concerns me why?"

Azrael lifted his gaze. "Because, my Lord, that land belongs to you. And if the Lycans grow strong enough to defy you, what stops others from following? I have forces, knowledge of the terrain, and a way to reclaim what was lost. But I cannot do it alone."

Lucifer tilted his head, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "Ah. And so, the prodigal brother returns not only with news but with an offer. You wish to reclaim the lands for me… or for yourself?"

Azrael clenched his jaw. "For you, my Lord. I seek only to serve."

Lucifer leaned forward, his smirk deepening. "Then rise, dear brother. Let's see if you are as useful as you claim to be."

— —

The warm glow of lanterns flickered against the stone walls as Evelyn sat among the other maids, half-listening as they whispered and giggled about forbidden romances. The scent of fresh linens and lavender filled the air, but it did little to calm the heat creeping up her neck.

"You what?" Evelyn's eyes widened as she stared at the maid across from her. "You kissed him?"

The other girls gasped, leaning in closer.

The maid—Marianne—smirked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, yes. And why shouldn't I? I love John, and he loves me. I don't care if he's just a knight." Her voice held defiance, but there was a dreamy glint in her eyes.

Evelyn swallowed, her fingers unconsciously brushing over her lips. The thought of such an intimate act felt foreign. Unreal.

Marianne turned to her, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "What about you, Evelyn? You're twenty now. Have you ever—" she paused for dramatic effect, "kissed a boy before?"

Evelyn tensed, shaking her head almost too quickly. "No. No, of course not."

The girls erupted into laughter, some gasping in mock horror.

"Oh, look at her blush!" one teased.

"Not even once? Not even a peck?" another added, grinning.

Evelyn's face burned. "Why would I— I mean— it's just—" she fumbled over her words, pressing her hands to her cheeks as if that could cool the heat rising there.

Marianne leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Then tell me, Evelyn… if not a kiss, has a man ever touched you? Even accidentally?"

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat. Touched? Her mind betrayed her, conjuring an image she had desperately tried to ignore—golden eyes watching her, heat radiating from his skin beneath her hands, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, firm yet careful.

Lucifer.

Her stomach twisted, and she jolted to her feet. "I—I need to get fresh linens." She turned quickly, her skirts brushing against the floor as she hurried away.

The laughter followed her down the corridor.

But Evelyn barely heard it.

Because her lips still tingled from something that had never happened.

And worse—she didn't know if she wanted it to.

As Evelyn left the Maids' Wing, she found herself touching her lips absentmindedly.

A kiss…

She had never thought much about it before, but now the idea wouldn't leave her mind. What would it feel like? Would it be soft? Rough? Would her heart race like the maids had described?

She shook her head, exhaling sharply. "I shouldn't even be thinking about this…"

Lost in thought, she turned the corner—only to slam into something solid.

A startled gasp left her lips as she stumbled backward. But before she could hit the ground, a firm hand gripped her wrist, steadying her.

"Easy there."

The voice was deep, smooth. A little amused.

Evelyn's breath caught as she lifted her gaze—and her heart nearly stopped.

The man before her was unlike any she had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence was commanding. His hair was deep red, like flames in the dim light, and his silver eyes held a quiet intensity.

She quickly pulled away, flustered. "I—I'm sorry, my lord. I wasn't watching where I was going."

He didn't respond right away. Just…watched her. His gaze flickered over her, as if taking in every detail—the way her hands clenched nervously, the flush on her cheeks.

Evelyn's stomach twisted. Was he angry?

But then, unexpectedly, the corner of his lips tugged up into the faintest smirk. "No harm done."

She nodded quickly, lowering her gaze, and stepped aside to leave. But she hesitated. Something about him held her still—an unfamiliar pull in her chest.

Azrael tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her reaction.

Evelyn swallowed and quickly curtsied before turning to go.

Even as she walked away, she could feel it—that heavy, lingering gaze still following her.