I crouched on the roof of the Demon King's castle, gripping the hilt of my dagger as the night wind howled around me. The kingdom stretched below in eerie beauty—dark towers, rivers of molten lava, and streets filled with creatures that would make a lesser elf piss themselves. But I wasn't just any elf. I was Princess Sylara of the Elven Kingdom, an assassin trained to kill demons since I was old enough to hold a blade.
And tonight, my target was the most powerful demon of all—the Demon King himself.
My stepmother had whispered poison into my father's ears, convincing him to send me on this mission. "The Demon King is a threat. He could kill your precious daughter next," she'd said, pretending to care about my stepsister's life. My father, ever the fool, agreed. And now, here I was, about to attempt the impossible.
But no one told me the Demon King had turned into a goddamn nightmare.
I had expected a monster—horns, claws, red eyes that burned with hellfire. Instead, I got him.
Long silver hair, piercing golden eyes, and a face that made me want to punch something out of frustration. He was disgustingly handsome. And worse—he was my childhood friend.
We used to play in the forest before our families became enemies. He was the brat who stole my food and called me weak. Now, he was the ruler of an empire and so powerful it was unfair. I could feel the raw energy rolling off the castle like a damn storm.
Still, I had a mission.
I dropped into the courtyard, moving like a shadow. The guards were no match for me. A flick of my wrist, a whisper of magic, and they crumpled to the ground.
I made it to the throne room, my heart pounding.
There he was.
Sitting on his throne like he owned the world—which, to be fair, he practically did. His black and gold robes draped lazily over the armrest, his chin resting on his fist, eyes glowing like molten gold. He looked bored—until he saw me.
And then he grinned.
"Well, well," he drawled. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
Shit.
He stood, slow and deliberate, and the air crackled with his power. I gripped my dagger tighter, my instincts screaming at me to run. But I didn't run.
"You knew I was coming?" I forced my voice to stay steady.
His grin widened. "Of course. You think I wouldn't notice when my dear childhood friend sneaks into my kingdom with the intent to kill me?"
Damn it.
I lunged, but before my blade could reach his throat, the world flipped. One second I was attacking, the next I was pinned against a stone pillar, his hand wrapped around my wrist, my feet barely touching the ground.
"You're fast," he murmured, tilting his head. "But not fast enough."
I glared at him, refusing to show fear. "Then kill me already."
His golden eyes darkened with amusement. "Kill you? No, princess. I have much better plans for you."
The bastard dropped me.
One second, he had me pinned like some weakling, and the next—bam! My ass hit the cold stone floor. I barely stopped myself from rolling like an idiot. Demon strength was a bitch.
I scrambled to my feet, gripping my dagger, ready to attack again—until he held up a piece of paper like it was some grand announcement.
"Before you start stabbing again, you might want to read this," he said, his voice dripping with amusement.
I snatched the paper, eyes narrowing. My heartbeat was still thundering from our fight, but as I read the words on that damn letter, everything inside me froze.
Marriage Contract.
Between King Xareth of the Demon Kingdom and Princess Sylara of the Elven Kingdom.
Signed by King Eldrin of the Elves.
In exchange for peace and the protection of the Elven King's stepdaughter, this contract is final.
Effective immediately.
I blinked. Read it again.
And then I exploded.
"What the actual fuck is this?!" I shouted, shaking the paper at him. "Are you fucking joking?!"
Xareth crossed his arms, looking way too entertained. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
"I—I was sent here to kill you!" I shouted, still trying to process this insanity. "Not—not to be your fucking wife!"
"Well," he smirked, "looks like your father had other plans."
Oh, I was going to kill someone.
Preferably my stepmother first, then my father for being an absolute dumbass.
I felt rage bubbling in my chest. "So let me get this straight. My father, instead of training my stepsister to defend herself, instead of actually dealing with demon attacks, just—just sells me off like some livestock to keep her safe?"
"Pretty much."
I gripped my dagger so hard my fingers ached. "You are enjoying this way too much."
"Oh, absolutely." Xareth didn't even try to deny it. "I mean, look at you—storming in here, thinking you're on some noble mission, only to find out you belong to me now."
I took a deep breath. Then another. If I didn't, I was going to stab something.
"Listen, you overpowered piece of shit," I hissed. "I am not marrying you. I don't care what this contract says. I'd rather eat my own foot."
Xareth stepped closer, and I hated that my body tensed—not out of fear, but because the bastard was standing way too close.
"Then what do you suggest?" he murmured, tilting his head. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't have much of a choice."
I gritted my teeth. He was right. If this contract was real, my father had literally given me away. If I refused, my kingdom would suffer. My stepsister would still be in danger.
But if I accepted…
No. Fuck that.
I crumpled the paper and threw it at his face. "I suggest you shove this contract up your ass."
He chuckled, catching the paper midair. "Fiery as ever."
"I swear to the gods, Xareth, if you don't let me go, I will make your life a living hell."
Xareth smirked. "Oh, princess. You have no idea what hell even looks like yet."