The air in Liam's chamber felt warm, a stark contrast to the biting chill of his earlier journey. Steam from the bath clung to the corners of the room, curling and dissipating into the extravagance surrounding him. As the maids fussed around, preparing towels and perfumes, Liam stood still, shy and hesitant. They had ushered him into the bath, their faces a mixture of disdain and wonder. To them, he was an anomaly, a porcelain angel in a land of shadows.
As Liam stepped out of the bath, water droplets glistened on his skin, cascading down the smooth, unmarred surface of his body. His pale complexion was like untouched snow.
"Is this truly an angel?" one of them whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"He doesn't seem real," another muttered, her eyes flitting between his porcelain-like skin and the faint shimmer of his raven locks.
Despite their disdain for angels, they couldn't help but be captivated. Their hands moved deftly, drying his hair and skin, and dressing him in garments finer than anything Liam had ever seen. The silk shirt clung lightly to his frame, the silver embroidery catching the light and shimmering like starlight. The white trousers fit snugly, and the long, creamy coat draped over him like a cascade of moonlight. Tiny diamonds embedded in the fabric sparkled with every movement, making him look like a celestial being who had wandered into the realm of demons by mistake.
As the maids arranged his hair, they added the finishing touch: a delicate butterfly fairy accessory that rested at the back of his head, its translucent wings catching the faint glow of the chandelier above. Liam sat obediently, his hands resting on his lap, his blue eyes wide with curiosity as he took in the luxurious chamber around him.
The maids stepped back, their task complete, and for a moment, the room was silent. Liam's gaze drifted to the mirror. He stared at his reflection, barely recognizing the person before him. It wasn't vanity that filled his thoughts but awe and unease. He looked… expensive, like a fragile ornament placed in a room full of sharp edges.
Unable to sit still, Liam wandered to the grand window that overlooked the vast empire. The view was breathtaking—rolling hills, jagged mountains, and a sprawling city that stretched far beyond the horizon. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the landscape in hues of amber and crimson, making the demonic realm appear almost serene.
He pressed his hands against the cold glass, his mind wandering. This is nothing like the temple… he thought, the memory of his previous life feeling like a distant dream.
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. He turned to see a guard step in, his demeanor stiff and formal.
"The King has requested your presence for tea," the guard announced, his voice devoid of emotion.
Liam's heart raced. Maximilian? The thought of meeting the stoic and intimidating demon king made his palms sweat. He nodded, smoothing his coat nervously, and followed the guard through the winding hallways of the castle.
The door to Maximilian's office opened with a low creak, revealing a room so grand it took Liam's breath away. The walls were lined with bookshelves that reached the ceiling, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. Chandeliers hung from above, their crystal ornaments casting fragmented light across the polished black marble floor. A long table stood at the center, its surface covered in maps, documents, and an assortment of decadent desserts.
Liam stepped inside, his eyes darting around like a curious child. He marveled at the intricate carvings on the walls, the plush velvet curtains that framed the tall windows, and the golden accents that adorned every piece of furniture. It was a room that screamed power and authority, yet it held a strange warmth.
Not noticing Maximilian standing in the shadows near a pillar, Liam's attention was drawn to the table. His eyes widened at the sight of the desserts—colorful macarons, delicate pastries, and cupcakes piled high with frosting. His stomach growled softly, betraying his hunger.
Thinking he was alone, Liam approached the table and reached for a cupcake. He glanced around nervously, as if afraid someone might scold him, and then stuffed the treat into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's, the frosting smearing slightly on his lips.
From the shadows, Maximilian watched, his sharp eyes fixed on the angel. For a moment, he was stunned. The regal and otherworldly aura Liam had displayed earlier was gone, replaced by the innocence of a child indulging in forbidden sweets.
Maximilian stepped forward, the sound of his boots against the marble floor making Liam freeze mid-bite. Liam turned, his blue eyes wide with surprise, frosting still clinging to the corner of his lips.
"Enjoying yourself?" Maximilian asked, his tone laced with amusement despite his attempt to sound stern.
Liam swallowed quickly, his cheeks flushing. He nodded shyly and said, "Hello," his voice soft and polite, before reaching for another cupcake.
Maximilian couldn't believe the audacity. This angel—this supposed spy or enemy—was sitting in his office, eating his desserts without a care in the world. Across the room, Damian, Maximilian's advisor, struggled to keep a straight face. The rare sight of his king being rendered speechless was almost too much to bear.
Liam, oblivious to the tension in the room, held out a cupcake to Maximilian, his eyes shining with innocence. "You can have one too," he offered, his voice sincere.
Maximilian stared at the cupcake, then at Liam. For a brief moment, his usual stoic mask cracked, and a flicker of something softer crossed his face. But he quickly composed himself, pushing the cupcake away gently.
"I don't eat sweets," he said curtly.
Liam's shoulders slumped, and he pouted slightly, his disappointment clear. Maximilian found himself clenching his fists to stop the urge to ruffle the angel's hair.
"I didn't call you here to indulge," Maximilian said, his voice firm. "I called you to remind you of something important."
Liam tilted his head, listening intently as he nibbled on another cupcake.
"This is not the angelic realm," Maximilian continued. "This is a land where demons rule, and they won't think twice before harming you. You're not safe here, no matter how much you try to blend in. Take a guard with you whenever you leave your chambers."
Liam nodded, his eyes sincere. "Thank you for your concern," he said softly, his lips curling into a small smile.
Maximilian blinked, momentarily taken aback by the angel's gratitude. But before he could dwell on it, Liam returned to his desserts, finishing the last of the cupcakes with a satisfied hum.
Damian bit his lip, barely suppressing his laughter. The mighty demon king, feared by all, had just been thanked by an angel with frosting on his lips. It was a sight he would never forget.
As Liam leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his stomach, he let out a contented sigh. His bright smile and innocent demeanor filled the room with an unspoken warmth, leaving Maximilian and Damian in stunned silence.
And for the first time in years, Maximilian found himself wondering if an angel could truly be a threat—or if Liam was something else entirely.
Liam, still holding the last macaron in his hand, hesitated before looking up at Maximilian with wide, curious eyes. His voice was soft, almost timid. "Um… well… what's your name? Um… how should I call you?"
The room fell silent. Damain's eyes widened in panic as the weight of Liam's question hung in the air. It was a grave breach of decorum to ask the King his name so casually, especially an angel asking a demon king. Damain took a step forward, attempting to intervene. "My Lord, forgive him—"
But Maximilian raised a hand, silencing Damain with a single commanding gesture. He turned his piercing amber eyes to Liam, towering over the petite figure like an unmovable mountain. The golden light from the room seemed to shimmer on his honey-toned skin, casting a shadow that seemed almost alive with power.
Leaning down, Maximilian brought his face inches from Liam's, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. His voice was low, almost a growl. "Maximilian."
The very air shifted, heavy and suffocating. A dark aura seemed to coil around Maximilian, its intensity choking and terrifying. Liam shivered under the weight of it, his blue eyes wide with fear and awe. The word escaped his lips in a soft, almost breathless whisper. "Maximilian…"
The way Liam said his name—soft and innocent—sent an inexplicable warmth through Maximilian, but his expression remained cold and unreadable.
Without another word, Maximilian straightened, his gaze lingering on the angel as Liam quickly scurried out of the office, clutching his robe tightly. The door closed behind him, leaving the king standing in silence, his expression unreadable, and Damain too stunned to speak.