‘A princess does not belong to herself, she belongs to her Kingdom.’

  I was eight when my father first made me aware of my place within the palace. I remember standing in the grand hall, the marble floor cold beneath my mud-streaked feet, as his words echoed in my ears. I’d just returned from playing in the garden-- a place my father never quite succeeded in keeping me from, no matter how much older I became. At that moment, my childish heart hadn’t comprehended the weight of that declaration. How could I? I was too young to fathom what it meant--too lost in the shimmer of silk dresses and glittering jewels to care. The notion of duty and responsibility to those beyond the palace’s golden gates that I had never crossed was a thought I easily cast aside.

  But as I grew older, the truth of my father’s words became inescapable. My life had never truly been mine, not in the way I had once imagined. My life--myfuture--had always been part of a larger design, a thread pulled by the hands of my parents. And now, the time had come for my path to be solidified, a path that ends in marriage with a man I have never met, a demon king from a kingdom I have only heard of in passing whispers.

  Standing in the grand hall for one last time, I memorize the lavish surroundings that have been my home for the past twenty-four years. My eyes trace the intricately carved marble columns holding the muraled ceiling above. The high arched windows lining the walls let in the soft morning light that glints off my parent’s golden thrones. The soft hum of court life--whispering servants, distant laughter from the corridors--all of it seems so distant now as though I am already no longer part of this world.

  Myworld.

  I pause, letting the memories settle over me. I have realized over the years that the life I am given is as much a duty as it is a gift. A life that comes at the cost of my freedom of choice, but it is all I have ever known, and now I am forced to leave it behind.

  “Selene,” my father steps toward me, holding my hands in his. “I need you to be strong, for all our sakes.” His voice is firm, tinged with an emotion he doesn’t often let surface, but I see it in his eyes, in the tears lining his deep blue gaze.

  “I will miss you, my sweet,” my mother says softly, her delicate hands clasped before her. Her voice trembles only slightly. “But you must remember, you are not just our daughter. You are a princess, and your kingdom is counting on you.”

  “I know, Mother.” My words are steady, though my heart feels like it may shatter in two. “How do you...” I debate whether I should ask the question, but it soon slips out without decision, “How do you stand so firm when your heart is breaking?” The question comes out in a pained whisper and my eyes drop to the pearlescent fabric of my mother’s gown. I can’t look them in the eye.

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  Gentle fingers lift my chin and a small bittersweet smile graces my mother’s face. “This is the price of peace, the price of love for your people. You will carry our kingdom with you, and the love of your father and I will always be your strength.” She presses her palm to my chest, over my heart. “When you face trials, when you wonder if you can endure, know that we are with you. Always.”

  “There will come a day when you can choose for yourself.” I look over at my father as he speaks. “Until then, your duty is to the kingdom.” His voice quivers slightly, but he stands tall. “When the time comes, you will know how to balance both your heart and your crown.”

  I move closer to them, kissing my mother on the cheek first, then my father’s. Both gestures are brief, but filled with the depth of everything unspoken between us.

  “Take this with you,” my mother pulls a delicate necklace from around her neck--our family crest hanging from a delicate gold chain--and places it in my palm. “This will remind you of us, of where you are from. You are never truly far from home.”

  I can’t bear it any longer. My throat tightens and my eyes sting as I pull them both into an embrace. “Take care of each other,” I whisper, the words wobbling with my lips. “I’ll write to you as soon as I arrive.”

  “We will,” my father assures me with a small smile as he pulls back. “We will pray for your safe journey.”

  His words are a comforting burden, and as I turn toward the main door my heart aches for the life--the family--I am leaving behind.

  A sacrifice for the price of peace.

  The door is pulled open before I reach it, the royal guard who is to accompany me on my travels standing in the entryway.

  Rael.

  The King’s blade.

  The demon who has been sent to escort me to Varethia. His figure is a dark contrast to the bright hall and his presence feels rigid and cold. Something unsettling stirs within me as his ruby eyes lock with mine, but I shove the feeling aside. This is my duty, there is no room for weakness.

  He dips into a brief bow. “Princess Selene,” his voice is deep yet unwavering, and I wait for him to continue his statement, but no words leave his mouth. A greeting then, with no pleasantry, no warmth. A single statement in the form of my name.

  I lift my chin, holding his gaze. “Rael.” My heart races beneath the surface though my steady voice hides my fear.

  He steps aside, his sharp, intense eyes never leaving mine as he waits for my approach. I’ve heard rumors of him in the days leading up to this one, but none mentioned the unmistakable aura of power that surrounds his silver-clad form.

  I slowly approach him and without another word, he turns and stalks down the corridor, his long strides silent but commanding me to follow. My gown drags against the polished floor, each step carrying a weight to it as I’m being pulled from everything I’ve known.

  I cast one last glance over my shoulder, at my parents still standing in the heart of the palace. They watch me go as I commit their saddened faces to memory one final time. I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to leave my life. But peace requires sacrifice, and I have taken on that burden.

  “Goodbye,” I whisper to them, though they cannot hear me as I face forward, blinking back tears.

  Rael doesn’t turn to look at me, and I wonder for a moment if he knows what it feels like to be torn between duty and desire. He is only a demon, bound to a life of servitude, and perhaps that makes the concept of choice as foreign to him as the idea of love.

  But whatever his thoughts--whatever his understanding of what lay ahead, I know one thing for certain: we are both on the same path now, and there is no turning back.