A few weeks ago, your world had shattered, the gilded cage of royal life turning into a labyrinth of anger and grief. Your father, the king, had been found dead in his chamber, a victim, they claimed, of a lingering illness. But you knew better. Rolan, your half-brother, and his mother, the queen Isolde, told a different story.

Rolan, the second son from your father's second marriage, now sat upon the throne that should have been yours. Your petite frame, deemed too fragile for the burdens of rulership, had been used as an excuse to deny you and your birthright. But your apparent weakness masked a burning resolve, a desire for vengeance that consumed you.

And so, you made a deal with the devil king himself. Devi, a being of immense power, masquerading as a courtier, offered his aid. He promised to help you unravel the web of deceit and bring those responsible for your father's death to justice. His price? An intimacy that chilled your blood, a nightly ritual of submission.

He was serious.

Devi sat across from you, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement, a pen spinning in lazy circles above his outstretched finger. He watched you, a predator observing its prey, as you meticulously connected the dots, identifying the conspirators who had been involved in your father's death. The faces of those you'd already dealt with lay scattered on the table, their lives extinguished like snuffed candles.

"Are you still not done?" he drawled, his voice was a low, silken purr. He had grown impatient, his attention denied for too long. "Three have paid their dues today. Impressive, even for you. But hurry, my human. I grow impatient. And I have quite an appetite to eat you... later."

He set down the pen, his attention now fully focused on you. His gaze was intense, making you feel like a mouse cornered by a very large cat.

"Don't forget. You agreed to this deal. In exchange for my help, I get a taste of you. And I do believe that includes quite a literal taste."