Chapter 6: Cael Prepares Breakfast for the Demon Court

It had already been two weeks since Cael somehow became the husband of the Demon Queen.

Two weeks of accidental near-deaths, daily fainting spells, impromptu massages, foot rub diplomacy, and unexpected nightly “battles.” And so far…miraculously…he had survived.

Barely.

But today is different. Today is another Demon Court meeting and he has to serve breakfast.

Cael isn’t sure if he’d make it out alive.

MORNING PREP

Cael stirred a pot carefully, the scent of simmering herbs rising with the steam. He wiped sweat from his brow with a clean cloth as the imp kitchen staff scrambled around him, some balancing trays, others breathing fire, literally, onto sizzling pans.

He was used to cooking for a few hungry mouths, not for the Demon Court.

“Okay, remember,” Cael said to the lead kitchen imp, a jittery fellow named Tikka, “don’t stir the bread batter clockwise again. That’s why last week’s batch exploded.”

Tikka saluted with a spatula. “Understood, Master Cael! This time, counterclockwise and with love!”

“That’s not…well, sure, that works.”

Though he had only taken charge of the kitchen recently, the imps had grown attached to Cael’s style of cooking. Human food was a novelty in the Demon Realm, and under his reluctant guidance, the imp chefs had made remarkable, if chaotic, progress.

Still, he knew the pressure was on. It was Demon Court day again.

And this time, he’d been asked to prepare food for all of them.

Sort of.

He managed to complete four dishes himself before the court session: a rich mushroom-beef stew, a honey-glazed meat dish, spiced breakfast bread, and a fluffy egg soufflé infused with calming herbs (which he'd absolutely made for Ashara). The rest were handled by the imp brigade.

He tried not to think too hard about what the other six dishes would taste like.

ARRIVAL AT COURT

The Demon Court chamber buzzed with hushed voices and clinking silverware as Cael entered, clutching the final tray.

Immediately, the murmurs shifted.

Cael.

The Queen’s human husband.

Why is he here again?

He spotted General Draz near the Queen’s throne, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Beside him, Lady Nyssa gave Cael a thoughtful look, lips pursed as if calculating something.

Ashara, radiant in deep red and obsidian-accented court attire, was lounging in her throne with an amused glint in her eye. Her tail flicked lazily behind her as she saw him approach.

Cael offered a polite bow. “Morning, everyone.”

Silence.

Then a grunt. Then someone sneezed into their goblet. Then nothing.

He took his seat beside Ashara, her magical ward immediately shimmering to life, a protective bubble of arcane energy around their seats. He didn’t ask for it, but she insisted he have a buffer zone.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You seem nervous,” Ashara purred, resting her chin in her hand.

“I remember the last time I ate with your court,” he said. “Three guards went airborne and the soup caught fire.”

Ashara chuckled. “Ah, yes. Nostalgia.”

FOOD IS SERVED

Imps marched in, carrying trays and trays of food. The dishes were distributed: ten total—four prepared by Cael, six by the improved (but still unpredictable) imp chefs.

It was subtle at first.

A minister leaned toward a particular tray and inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering.

A general nudged his chair closer to the soufflé.

The Minister of Economy actually whimpered when the bread was placed before him.

Then someone took the first bite of Cael’s stew.

“...Is this…” a noble stammered, eyes wide, “...flavor? Actual depth? Not just... ash and salt?”

One of the generals dropped his fork. “It tastes like victory and childhood.”

Suddenly, the air shifted.

A minister reached for a second roll. Another one stabbed his fork down at the same time. Sparks flew, literally, as their cutlery clashed mid-air.

“BACK OFF, I SAW IT FIRST!”

“IT’S MY TURN TO TASTE HAPPINESS!”

More ministers dove across the table. A fork embedded itself in the stone wall behind Cael’s head. Somewhere, a demon noble tried to barter his cloak of invisibility for one spoonful of the egg soufflé.

CHAOS ENSUES

“Stop biting me!” someone yelled.

“Trade me for one Cael sausage!” another screamed.

“Those are glazed honey ribs, you uncultured troll!”

It only got worse.

Dishes flipped, goblets shattered, two guards were launched through the air and into a tapestry. The imp chefs screamed in horror and pride.

All the while, Ashara reclined in her seat, laughing with open delight.

Her magic shield glimmered as a steak flew directly at Cael’s face and disintegrated against the barrier.

Cael sat beside her, frozen, his plate untouched.

“I... I think they like the food?” he offered.

Ashara grinned. “You’re a hit, dear husband. I haven’t seen them this unhinged since the lava wine shortage of Year 213.”

He stared as a demon minister used a teleportation spell just to grab a bread roll first.

“I don’t want to ask what happened then.”

“Massacre. But with style.”

AFTERMATH

Eventually, the dust settled.

Chairs were overturned, robes were burned, and a gravy boat was lodged in the chandelier.

The Minister of War, bruised and covered in flour, stood and bowed solemnly.

“Lord Cael... please. Next time... cook everything. Spare us the bloodshed.”

Cael looked uncertain, turning to Ashara for guidance.

She smirked.

“Absolutely not. This was delightful. We’re keeping it exactly the same.”

The entire court groaned.

Ashara stood, raising her goblet.

“From now on,” she announced, “the court member with the most useful contribution to the realm will be first to sample my husband’s dishes at each meeting.”

Gasps. Panic. Scheming.

The Minister of Justice immediately shouted, “I’m scheduling a purge of minor criminal records…TODAY!”

General Ravok declared, “I’ll singlehandedly slay the wyverns in the east!”

Lady Nyssa whispered to Draz, “Watch them all scramble. This is far more amusing than our last war.”

END SCENE

As the court dispersed in various states of shame, ambition, and indigestion, Ashara and Cael strolled out side by side.

“You’re becoming quite popular,” she mused.

“I’m becoming a cause for violence,” Cael sighed.

Ashara tilted her head. “That’s the same thing here.”

He looked up at her. “...You’re not going to make me cook for your next war campaign, are you?”

Ashara paused, considering. Then, she grinned. “No promises.”

Cael groaned.

Ashara laughed.

And somewhere behind them, another minister fainted from food envy.