Chapter 20: Chapter 20

AVERY

My father didn’t say another word. That alone would have been enough to make me realize just how serious the situation was—King Elior was not the type to repeat orders.

However, it was the look in his eyes that made my blood run cold. Cold. Relentless. The kind of gaze that silenced even warlords.

“Remember your promise to Baldur,” he said as he turned away from Devas.

The words struck Devas like a whiplash. I saw his slender fingers clench involuntarily into fists, the muscle in his jaw twitch—not out of anger, but something else.

Something that almost looked like… Pain.

For a moment, I thought the demon might disagree. Murmur something sarcastic. Instead, he lowered his head. A tiny, almost invisible act of submission.

When Father headed back home with Ava, I stayed behind with Iris and Aidan.

The tension in Iris’s body was palpable as we stood outside Devas’s house. Her fingers gripped my hand so tightly, as if she was afraid the ground beneath her would disappear.

I hated to see her so scared—especially because of ~him~.

The demon scrutinized Iris with a gaze that wavered between indifference and hidden interest. But we didn’t feel welcome. Devas just stared at us, rolling his eyes as he invited us inside.

“Look at you… trembling,” he mocked as Iris walked past him.

I felt her wince and my blood boiled. Every muscle in me tensed, ready to throw myself between her and him—but she didn’t break. Not really.

His house was just like him: dark, thoughtful, unapproachable. The deep wine red walls seemed to swallow up the sparse light, while heavy, velvety black curtains framed the high windows.

Each piece of furniture was chosen with deliberate precision. Slender ebony brackets, a heavy chandelier with shimmering metal, whose candles never seemed to burn and yet cast a warm glow.

Even the bookshelves, filled with old volumes in leather bindings, looked like part of a well-thought-out composition—not simply furnished, but staged.

Every object seemed to be placed there precisely to radiate power.

Devas slumped into a wide armchair, the highly upholstered back, like a throne. He casually swung his legs over the armrest. The movement was natural, almost casual, and yet it exuded an unmistakable aplomb.

It seemed like a mute challenge. ~This is my kingdom. And you’re just guests.~

“Sit down!” he commanded us as he watched us enter his living room.

“What kind of promise is King Elior talking about?” Aidan asked him.

Devas glanced between Iris and Aidan, a deep breath escaping him before he raised a hand, his fingers clenching into a fist.

A cloud formed before him, dark just like his eyes as he looked at Iris.

What the black cloud formed was a scene that took my breath away: Baldur, dying, in Devas’s arms. He lay motionless in Devas’s arms, his face marked by pain and exhaustion, but there was one last spark of hope in his eyes.

Devas bent over him, his usually impenetrable features filled with an unfamiliar seriousness. The demon, who usually knew only sarcasm and coldness, spoke with a firmness that surprised even me.

“I’ll teach her everything. Her powers, her purpose… And I’ll protect her. With my life, if I have to,” Devas said with a whimper.

Then the cloud dissipated like smoke between my fingers. I dared to look at Devas. Our gazes met.

There was no more defense in his black eyes, no more mysterious glint, just the naked truth of what we had just seen.

His forehead was slightly furrowed, the corners of his mouth relaxed, but not cold. It was as if he was saying to us without words: ~Now you know.~

Iris froze. I saw how every word affected her, how her gaze changed.

Devas then looked at her with a strange mixture of sadness and… Was it respect? But too quickly the moment was over, and he reverted to his usual bored mask.

“You can take the back rooms. Make yourself comfortable. We’ll start tomorrow,” he said coldly before leaving the house.

As soon as he’d left, Aidan sighed.

“Well…that was a warm welcome,” he said.

I kissed Iris’s hand and felt her trembling.

“We need his help. So we’ll take what he offers,” I said to her.

But one question was burning inside me: why had Baldur trusted him, of all people? I didn’t want to show it; there were too many unanswered questions.

But Iris had to feel safe.

As Devas left, she looked from Aidan to me. So I suggested we explore the surroundings a little.

The walk in the forest was supposed to distract Iris, but she was tense, her gaze constantly darting to the shadows.

“Can you feel that too?” she whispered.

I nodded.

Something was watching us. Again, that strange feeling.

It was the same aura that I had felt when we saw Devas. This darkness, but not evil… just so sinister.

Aidan told her about Antaris, the different beings, and their powers. He explained to her what kind of beings lived here and what powers they had.

But when he explained again about the auras, Iris stopped.

“What about red?” she asked quietly.

Silence.

Aidan’s eyes met mine, and I saw the same worry I felt. No book, no legend, mentioned a red aura.

Whatever lurked within Iris was unknown. And unknown things were dangerous.

Aidan even used some of the books in Devas’s house to show her pictures, so she had the chance to read more about the creatures living on Antaris.

But again, we found nothing in the books about the red aura or the power that was inside her.

Back in the house, it was quiet; Devas had not yet returned. So I did what he offered, to make us feel at home.

We ate, talked, and pretended that everything was normal. But when we retired to our room, I felt Iris’s insecurity.

Devas only had two bedrooms. Aidan took one for himself, while the other was for me and Iris.

“I can sleep on the floor,” I offered, although every part of me rebelled against it.

Her response made my heart beat faster.

“No. I want you to stay with me,” she shyly replied.

This time it was my breath that caught. Her trust was a gift that I hadn’t earned.

As I pulled her against me in bed, I felt her snuggle up to me—not out of desire, but out of the need for security.

My fingers stroked her cheek, and I saw her eyelids become heavy.

“Sleep,” I whispered as I held her tighter.

I could feel her fear as if it were my own breath—a fleeting shiver that hid under her skin. Her anxiety enveloped her like an invisible cloak, heavy and suffocating.

I couldn’t penetrate her thoughts yet. I couldn’t hear the words behind her silence. But even without the completed mate bond, her grief was palpable, a dull ache that echoed in my own chest.

Every tense muscle, every fleeting glance, told me more than she would ever say. The way her fingers clutched at my arm, as if she had to hold on to it to keep from breaking.

The quiet restlessness in her nature made me feel how much she was struggling—not just against the situation outside, but against the burden she was carrying deep within her. I wished I could break down the barriers between us. I wanted to read her soul as clearly as my own.

But even without this perfect connection, she was not a mystery to me. Her heart spoke a language that I had understood long ago.

***

Finally, she was asleep.

The flickering candlelight drew soft shadows on her cheeks, and I couldn’t help but stare. How could anyone look so perfect? So innocent and yet so seductive?

Her lashes cast delicate shadows on her skin, long and dark like silk threads. Her breathing was steady, her lips slightly parted—those lips.

So soft. So full.

I clenched my teeth as my fingers tightened involuntarily with the urge to touch her. To feel whether they were really as soft as they looked now.

But I didn’t do it. Instead, I watched as a loose strand of hair fell across her forehead.

My hand twitched. I wanted to brush it away. I wanted to feel that soft skin under my fingertips. But I held myself back.

She needed rest. Peace. And I... I needed every bit of self-control I could summon.

Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep, and I started counting every breath. Every. Damn. Breath.

Why was it so hard? She turned slightly towards me, her breath brushing my neck, warm and sweet, and my heart beat so hard I was sure it would wake her.

But she continued to sleep. Trusting. Innocently.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Tomorrow, Devas would start her training.

And if he even looked at her as if she was a burden, he would get to know me. Not as a prince. Not as an ally.

But as the one who was willing to burn the world to the ground to protect her. Tomorrow he’d teach her to control her powers.

But who would teach me how to keep control over myself?