THE DEMON LORD'S ACCIDENTAL TENTH WIFE

Lady Selena had always known power was a fragile thing—easily gained, easily lost. But never had she imagined this.

The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through her chambers as the teacup slipped from her trembling hands, crashing onto the marble floor. Her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.

"A maid?" Her voice was sharp, almost disbelieving. "Not just any maid—a traitor's whelp? And you expect me to sit here and do nothing?"

The chief maid flinched but stood her ground. "My Lady, the Lord has not permitted you to leave—"

Selena's laughter was cold, humorless. "Permit me?" She stepped forward, her silk gown sweeping across the floor. "I am his first wife. His queen. And I will not stand by while some lowly rat takes what is mine."

She turned sharply. "We're going to see him. Now."

"My Lady—"

"Now."

The wheels of the royal carriage rumbled against the stone path, each turn bringing Lady Selena closer to the King's Tower. She sat rigid, her nails digging into the silk of her gown, fury burning beneath a mask of cold composure.

The King's Tower loomed ahead, an imposing structure set apart from the wives' chambers—a silent reminder of the distance he kept from them. As the carriage rolled to a halt, two royal guards stepped forward, their spears crossed in an immediate barrier.

One of them bowed. "My Lady, His Majesty has not summoned you."

Selena's lips curled in disdain. "I do not need a summons to speak to my husband."

The guards hesitated. One turned sharply, stepping toward the great doors. After a moment, the palace herald emerged from within. Dressed in deep crimson robes, he carried himself with measured grace, but there was a flicker of unease in his expression.

"Announce me," Selena commanded.

The herald hesitated, then gave a short nod before vanishing inside. A tense silence settled over the entrance as she waited, her gaze locked on the gilded doors of the King's Hall.

The heavy doors opened, and Lady Selena stepped inside. Damon sat on his throne, golden eyes cold as he looked at her.

"I didn't call for you," he said.

She dropped to her knees. "Forgive me, my Lord, but how could you make a maid a queen? Why? Isn't this too much?"

His gaze darkened. "Are you questioning me?"

"Never! I would not dare. But my Lord, this… this is—"

"I haven't asked you to leave the South Palace, have I?" His voice was sharp. "You disobeyed me."

"I am your wife!"

"And I am your Lord and King. Your God. You will obey me—every word, every breath."

Selena lowered her head. "Forgive me, my Lord."

"Sure. You are, after all, my first wife." His voice was mocking. "Now, what do you want?"

She swallowed. "That maid—not only did she commit an unforgivable sin by taking the place of your bride, but she has the blood of a traitor in her. She should be executed."

Damon leaned back, eyes narrowing. "And?"

Selena hesitated. "If word spreads that the Demon Lord has taken in a traitor's child as his queen, people will talk. The nobles—"

"The nobles will do nothing." His tone was final. "If they value their lives."

"But my Lord, she—"

"Unfortunately, she is now my wife." He picked up his goblet, swirling the wine lazily. "But you can do whatever you want."

Selena's breath caught. "What?"

Damon swirled the wine in his goblet, his golden eyes unreadable. "You heard me." He took a slow sip before setting the cup down with a quiet clink. "Isn't that what you wanted? To remind her of her place? To show her that she is beneath you?" His voice was calm, almost amused. "Or do you expect me to do it for you?"

Selena clenched her fists. "That's not—" She took a breath, forcing herself to kneel. "My Lord, she is dangerous. Her very existence is an insult to you. To us. She is the daughter of a traitor. If you allow her to live, it will be seen as weakness."

Damon let out a low chuckle. "Weakness?" His gaze sharpened. "And yet the heavens refuse to let her die. The guards who tried to kill her ended up slaughtering themselves instead. Tell me, Selena, do you think me weaker than the heavens?"

Her lips parted, but no words came.

"I thought not." He leaned forward slightly. "You're my first wife. The most favored. And yet you fear a mere girl."

"I fear nothing," Selena spat, her pride flaring. "But I won't stand by while a maid sits among us as a queen."

Damon studied her for a moment before exhaling sharply. "Then do as you wish. If she offends you so much, put her in her place. But don't come crying to me if the heavens strike you down next."

Selena hesitated, searching his face for any sign of deception, but he was unreadable as ever.

"Leave," he ordered. "Before I change my mind."

She pressed her lips together, bowing her head before rising. With a flick of his fingers, the doors to the chamber swung open.

Selena turned on her heel and walked out, her mind already spinning with plans.

•••

Evelyn admired her new chambers, running her fingers over the fine silk drapes. It wasn't as grand as the other queens' suites, but it was more than she had ever dreamed of. The polished floors, the ornate furniture, the scent of fresh roses—it felt unreal.

"Woah… this is beautiful, Evelyn. You're definitely blessed," Marianne said, plucking a grape from the tray of fruits. "I thought the Lord would kill you!"

"Me too. But—" Evelyn started, but she never got to finish.

"YOU!!"

The doors flew open with a thunderous crash. Lady Selena stood at the entrance, her face twisted in rage, her crimson robes billowing as she stormed inside. The maids in the room shrank back, eyes wide with fear.

"You dare sit here like a queen?" Selena spat, striding toward Evelyn. "You—of all people? A filthy traitor's spawn?"

Evelyn stiffened but held her ground. "I didn't ask for this."

Selena scoffed. "And yet, here you are, draped in luxury that does not belong to you!" She turned sharply. "Guards!"

Two guards stepped inside immediately, heads bowed.

"Strip her of these fine clothes. She does not deserve them," Selena commanded coldly. "Whip her—use the same lashes we reserve for disobedient maids."

One of the maids gasped, but Selena ignored her. She turned to the servants assigned to Evelyn. "You are dismissed. You will not serve her."

The maids hesitated, glancing at Evelyn, but Selena's sharp glare sent them scurrying out.

Selena's rage did not stop there. She strode to the dressing table and swept everything off with a violent swing of her arm. Perfume bottles shattered, hairpins scattered, jewelry clattered to the floor.

"This is a mockery," Selena hissed. "A disgrace!"

Evelyn clenched her fists, heart pounding. She knew this was only the beginning.

The first lash tore through Evelyn's back.

"Aahh!" She screamed, her body jerking forward as searing pain ripped through her skin.

The second strike followed immediately, the force nearly knocking her off balance. Tears pricked her eyes, but she bit down hard, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape.

Selena stood at the side, watching with cold satisfaction. "Harder," she commanded.

The whip cracked again.

"Aahh!" Evelyn's hands clenched into fists as fresh agony surged through her.

Marianne flinched from where she stood, her nails digging into her palms. "Please, My Lady! She—"

"Shut up!" Selena's glare cut through the air like a blade. "Unless you want to join her."

Marianne's lips trembled, but she stepped back, helpless.

Evelyn's breath came in ragged gasps. Her vision blurred, her body trembling from the pain, but she still forced herself to stay on her knees.

Selena approached, crouching beside her. "Does it hurt?" she asked mockingly, her voice dripping with fake concern.

Evelyn didn't answer. She refused to.

Selena's eyes narrowed. "You think you're strong?" She grabbed Evelyn's chin roughly, forcing her to meet her gaze. "You're nothing but a filthy maid with traitor's blood. And now you think you can be queen?"

Evelyn's lips parted, her breath shaky. But the look in her eyes was not one of surrender.

Selena sneered. "Throw her out."

The guards grabbed Evelyn by the arms and dragged her across the marble floor. Her body screamed in protest, but she refused to cry anymore.

As they reached the doorway, Selena let out a cruel laugh. "A queen?" she scoffed. "You'll be lucky to survive the night."

The door slammed shut behind her. Cold air hit Evelyn's bleeding back like a blade, but she didn't move. She lay there, her body broken.

The night was long. Marianne stayed by Evelyn's side, wrapping her own shawl around her to keep her warm. Evelyn had passed out hours ago, her body trembling from the cold and pain. Marianne did what she could, whispering reassurances, but deep down, she knew it wasn't enough.

The courtyard was eerily silent, the distant torches flickering against the darkened palace walls.

Then came the heavy footsteps.

A guard stepped forward, his armor glinting under the dim light. His voice was cold. "Lady Selena's orders. You are to leave."

Marianne's heart pounded. "But she—"

"You are not her maid," the guard interrupted, his tone final. "You serve Lady Selena."

Marianne clenched her fists, looking down at Evelyn's unconscious form. She wanted to argue, but she knew better.

With a final, lingering glance, she whispered, "I'm sorry," before rising to her feet.

Evelyn stirred slightly, a weak moan slipping past her lips. "Mmm…" Her fingers twitched against the stone floor, her body instinctively trying to move.

Marianne hesitated, but the guard stepped closer, and she had no choice. She turned away, leaving Evelyn behind.

The cold night stretched on, and Evelyn remained where she was, alone.

A shadow moved. Silent. Watching.

The Demon Lord stood over her, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim torchlight. He studied her—this pathetic thing sprawled across the cold stone floor, bruised and battered. Not beautiful. Not remarkable. Just a pitiful, broken creature.

"Eyesore," he muttered, leaning in slightly.

She was nothing. Yet, she still breathed. Still clung to life.

His gaze drifted lower. Her torn garments had shifted, revealing the smooth curve of her thighs. He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. Without thinking, his gloved fingers traced the exposed skin, testing its warmth. Soft.

She stirred, a weak whimper escaping her lips.

He smirked. Interesting.

His fingers trailed higher, teasing, exploring. A slow, unhurried glide along her thigh. Her body twitched under his touch, instinct fighting exhaustion. When his fingertips brushed against the sensitive flesh near her hip, she let out a breathy moan, her lips parting slightly.

His smirk deepened.

Still alive enough to react.

Her lashes fluttered, and he watched, curious. She was trying to suppress it—biting her lip, swallowing back the sound—but her body betrayed her.

He exhaled through his nose, amused. How fragile mortals were. How easily they broke… and how easily they responded.

For a moment, he considered pushing further. Testing her limits. Watching her shatter completely.