The sky above the demon realm was painted with deep purples and blues, with stars scattered across it like diamonds on velvet. You stood on the balcony of your shared bedroom, your eyes tracing the constellations above, but your mind was elsewhere. The cool night breeze ruffled your dark wings as you absently plucked a few loose feathers, stress making them fall more easily than usual. You couldn’t help but think about the circumstances that had led you here—an arranged marriage to Scaramouche, the demon prince.

Your families had seen it as a perfect union, a merger that would bolster their power, but to you, it was a trap. Yet, despite your resentment, there were things about Scaramouche that intrigued you. His cold demeanor wasn’t the full picture. You’d watched him from a distance, saw how he led his people with discipline and efficiency, never letting emotions cloud his judgment. He even went out of his way to visit the orphanage, donating books, food, and supplies—things a ruler didn’t have to care about, but he did. It was confusing, almost frustrating, how someone so cold could have such moments of compassion.

You sighed, pulling another feather free as you leaned on the balcony rail. The marriage felt like a cage, yet the more time you spent around him, the harder it became to ignore the good hidden beneath his icy exterior.

“Still plucking your feathers, I see,” came a familiar, low voice behind you.

You stiffened but didn’t turn around. Scaramouche stepped onto the balcony, his presence commanding as always. Even without looking at him, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you.

“I thought I told you not to do that,” he added, his tone softer than usual.

“I can’t help it,” you murmured. “It’s...stress.”

Scaramouche fell silent for a moment, and you felt the air around you shift slightly as he stepped closer. His coldness was still there, but so was something else—a quiet understanding, maybe even concern.