The carriage hit a rut, and the jolt shot up her spine like a kick from the past she couldn’t outrun. Lady Seraphina—once a name that made demons kneel—sat ramrod straight, wedged between crates of junk she’d bartered from the vilgers. Pots cnked, a sack of flour slumped against her thigh, and the air hung thick with leather, sweat, and that damn burnt-toast smell that wouldn’t let her go. Across from her, Aaron sprawled, boots propped on a box, ughing too loud at something Amelia tossed his way. His voice rumbled, careless as a kid who didn’t know he held a leash. Amelia leaned into him, pigtails swinging, her grin sharp enough to cut gss. They talked and talked—endless, chattering nonsense about dragons and coin and some farmer’s ugly cow—while the countryside blurred past, green and gold and indifferent.

  Her back itched where the sve mark burned into her skin, a raw, nagging ache she couldn’t scratch away. Better than the alternative, though—her soul shredded by the Demon Queen, scattered to ash, never to cw its way back. She’d seen that spell before, whispered in the shadowed halls of demon nobility: advanced sve magic, a chain forged from desperation and high blood. Her fingers twitched, chasing the ghost of her own power—blood magic that once curled from her like smoke, bending wills, breaking spines. She’d ruled her fiefdom with it, a toxic symphony of lust and control, her throne a bed of silk and secrets. Now? A sve to a boy with dirt under his nails and ember eyes that didn’t match his age.

  She stared at him, trying to piece it together. White hair messy as a storm, a smirk tugging at his mouth—he was no ordinary kid. The Demon Queen’s shadow loomed over him, dark and heavy, and she’d sent HER to reel him in. But why? What made this scrappy human worth a noble’s fall? Her thoughts drifted, nguid and bitter, her pride a shattered mirror—each shard glinting with a life she’d lost. The carriage jolted again, and the burnt-toast smell wafted stronger, a tether to the mundane she’d never have again.

  Whack!!

  A sp cracked across the back of her head, sharp and sudden, pain blooming hot and bright. Her demon eyes bulged—grotesque, absurd, like they might roll out of her skull—and she whipped around, fury rising like a tea kettle left too long. Aaron leaned back, smirking, hand still hovering like he might do it again.

  “How much money you got?”

  She blinked, the words hitting like a second blow. “What?”

  “Money,” he said, slow and deliberate, like she was some vilge dulrd. “How much? We’re gonna need it.”

  Amelia snorted, a quick, muffled ugh behind her hand, and Seraphina’s cheeks burned—rage, humiliation, a sting she hadn’t felt in centuries. “Enough, Master,” she spat, the title sour as bile, her voice clipped tight.

  Amelia’s jaw locked tight, a fist around a grudge. Master. That word still burned in her ears, slithering out of Seraphina’s mouth—smooth as oil, hot as sin. It twisted her guts, made her want to kick the demoness out the door and watch her roll down the hill. She’d fought Aaron tooth and nail to keep this trip just them—two kids against the world, like always—but their coin purse was ftter than a day-old beer, and now this woman was here, breasts spilling out of that dress like they owned the pce, her ugh a low hum that scraped Amelia’s nerves raw.

  She gnced down at herself—chest ft as a pnk, nothing to write home about—and her scowl deepened, a tea kettle left too long on the fme. Without thinking, she slid closer to Aaron, thigh pressing against his, close enough to feel his heat through her patched-up trousers. He didn’t budge, just kept yammering about the dragon’s den, the week it’d take, the three cities they’d rattle through. “Gotta meet someone in the first one,” he said, scratching the stubble shadowing his jaw. “Someone who’s got my back.”

  Her head snapped up, jealousy spiking like a splinter under a nail. “Who?” she barked, sharper than she meant.

  He shrugged, all loose and easy, like it didn’t matter. “Old friend. From before… y’know, everything.” His hand fpped, brushing off a past too heavy to hold.

  “Before what?” She leaned in, voice low, pressing like she could squeeze the truth out.

  He grinned—too bright, too dumb—and ruffled her hair, fingers rough against her scalp. “You’ll see, spitfire. Chill out.”

  She smacked his hand away, heat crawling up her neck, and slumped back, arms crossed tight as a locked gate. Seraphina’s chuckle cracked the air—sharp, like gss under a boot—and Amelia’s gre could’ve lit a match. “What’s so damn funny?”

  “Nothing, little one,” the demoness purred, smile all teeth and taunt. “Just admiring the scenery.”

  Aaron snorted, clueless as a brick, and Amelia’s fingers twitched, itching to slug that smug face. Instead, she grabbed his arm, yanked him closer—nails digging in, a quiet cim. He blinked down at her, brow creasing. “Oi, ‘Melia, you good?”

  “Fine,” she snapped, too fast, and let go, cheeks bzing. “Just—shut up.”

  He ughed—a big, baffled burst—and tousled her hair again. “….Weird.”

  The demoness’s eyes glinted, catching the flicker of something raw. “Young love,” she murmured, soft as a shadow, and turned to the window, her own thoughts coiling like smoke. That sve mark itched, a dull buzz under her skin, but she’d take it—hell, she’d take worse—to see where this kid’s road ended. He was a riddle with a pulse, and she was in too deep to climb out.

  The carriage rattled on, the air heavy with burnt toast—a stubborn whiff of home, baked into their clothes, their skin. A week to the dragon’s den, three cities to cross, and Aaron’s mind was already half-gone, snagged on the first stop. Someone waited there—someone who’d shadowed him in his past life, back when he wore a crown of ash as the Demon King. A loyal bde, a hand steady at his back when the world caved in. He didn’t say their name—couldn’t, not yet—but the memory sat in his chest, a stone he couldn’t cough up, guilt and gratitude knotted tight.

  Amelia shifted, her head dipping close to his shoulder, and he frowned, thrown. “You sleepy or what?”

  “No,” she bit out, jerking upright, face afme. “Forget it.”

  He ughed again, softer this time, and the sound hung there, warm and dumb and hers. Outside, the fields rolled on, the sky bruising purple, the road stretching toward a city where the past crouched, waiting like a dog by the door.

  They stopped in a speck of a town that night, horses panting, air cool and sharp. The inn was a squat thing, sign creaking—“The Rusty Tankard”—and inside, it smelled of stale ale and sweat. Seraphina drew eyes like flies to spilled sugar, her beauty a fre in the dim, and Amelia hated it. Hated the whispers, the stares, the way the demoness leaned into it, smile curling like she’d won something.

  By the fire, Amelia cornered her, arms crossed, voice a hiss. “Why do you do that?”

  Seraphina looked up from a book—some leather-bound thing that smelled of dust—her eyes catching the fmes. “Do what?”

  “That. Acting like you’re above us all.”

  The demoness ughed, a sound like coins clinking. “Because I am child, I actually….am.”

  Amelia’s scowl deepened. “You’re not better. Just… different.”

  Seraphina’s smile softened, just a hair. “Maybe. But I’ve seen centu….ahem…—kings fall, lovers rot. It shifts you.”

  Amelia dropped beside her, curiosity tugging despite the bile. “What’s that mean?”

  “Means I’ve watched love break more than it builds,” Seraphina said, voice low, like she was handing over a secret. “It’s a pretty knife—cuts deep.”

  Amelia’s breath hitched, cheeks hot. “I don’t—whatever.”

  The demoness smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure, little one.”

  ***

  You can read chapter 11 – 16 at royal road, uploading every hour for today, link down below, and I will be uploading there daily starting next day, so please like and follow this novel at royal road, I would really really really appreciate it, thank you.https:///fiction/108931/my-childhood-friend-doesnt-know-i-was-the-demon