As I noticed the confusion in the devil's eyes, it dawned on me that he might have misinterpreted my words. Perhaps this was the spark for his anger and possessive reaction. With a soft sigh, I gently took his hand.
"Killian," I whispered, "I have no regrets about eloping with you. Yet, I can't stop pondering... what if we had approached the King, your father? Perhaps he would have understood and allowed us to be together."
A cold snort broke from the devil's lips. "The King would never consent to our union," he declared.
"Why not?" I inquired, my tone tinged with bewilderment. "The king is your father, after all?"
The devil shook his head. "No, he's not. I am not his son."
Shock surged through me, and my hand instinctively flew over to my open mouth. "What are you saying? You're not the King's son?!" I gasped.
