My mom would’ve loved it here. She was sunshine, too. I bet Sariya would’ve adored her, just like she once adored Korithax’s mother. Hearing her speak about his parents reminded me, yet again, how little I actually know about the man I’m about to marry. His past, his family, his anything. And yet here I am, marrying him tomorrow.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. Korithax hadn’t said a single word to me since we got to Solara—not after dragging me through Kaelith’s halls, barking at me like a beast, then tossing me onto that bed just to spit venom in my face. ‘Just a means to an end.’ And yet… He spoke to Sariya like I were sacred. LikeI was his. He called me his bride. His sunshine. Said he wanted to marry me here because I was the embodiment of the sun. It made my stupid heart skip like a stone across a lake.
Confusing bastard.
I wasn’t even the type to curse, but ever since Korithax stormed into my life, it had become a daily habit. He was infuriating, exhausting, and I was done with the whiplash. So when he pinned me to the bed and spat his venom, I made a choice—no more playing nice.
I’d wear the gowns. Smile when I had to. And be the perfect little bride in public. But in private? I was done trying. The separate rooms weren’t about tradition. They were about survival. I needed space, any space I could get, just to breathe. And maybe it was childish, maybe I was running away from it all. But my heart physically hurts.
After that kiss in the shower, I thought something was changing. That maybe this wasn’t just duty anymore. The way he groaned, the way he held me, the way he panted like it hurt him to pull away? It hadn’t felt like nothing. But clearly, it was. Gods, I’m an idiot. I don’t even know why I want him to care. Maybe I am just a pathetic mortal who is clearly desperate for some form of love.
I steppedinto the room I’d been given for the night and immediately decided I was never leaving. Like, ever. If someone wanted me out of here, they were gonna have to drag me kicking and screaming.
The place was stupidly beautiful. Glowing sandstone walls with massive arched windows that filtered in soft golden light, the silk curtains billowing. Outside, wildflowers exploded across the gardens in endless vibrant blooms. Birds flitted aroundwith golden wings and gemstone-coloured feathers, dipping into glittering pools of crystal-clear water.
The canopy bed stood in the centre of the room, wrapped in gauzy fabrics that shimmered like magic in the sunlight. The white marble floors gleamed, and vines climbed up the walls, blooming with soft, glowing blossoms.
It was all soft, radiant beauty. Everything here was beautiful. The realm, the people, the queen. Every person I’d passed glowed with rich skin tones kissed in gold and rose. They were truly stunning.
I sat at the vanity,staring at myself in the mirror. I glowed here. Even though I felt heavy on the inside, like my heart was wading through wet concrete, I was glowing on the outside. Here, in Solara… I could be the sun.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. Before I can call out, Sariya sweeps gracefully into the room.
“Daisy,” Her voice is so sultry, like sunlight whispering into my ear. “Forgive me for entering without your approval.”
“Please,” I reply, rising slightly. “This is your kingdom.”
She smiles. “It may be my kingdom, sweet child… but you are about to be a queen. A mortal queen, with a demon husband.” She perches elegantly on the edge of the bed, folding her robes beneath her. “Do tell me how that came about.”
I smile, turning on the vanity stool to face her. “My father had made a soul trade with Korithax. He’s… not a very good man. Not anymore. My father offered my soul because it was worth more than his own, apparently.” I scoff.
Sariya’s eyes widen slightly, the only crack in her graceful composure. “Oh, wow.”
“Yeah. Imagine my shock, as a regular college student, when I come home to find a seven-foot demon with horns and a jacked body standing in my tiny apartment.”
We both laugh, the sound making something in my chest lift. There was something about Sariya that made me want to talk, to be honest about everything. Still, I didn’t mention the marriage contract or the immortality. Some things had to stay mine.
“Anyway,” I continued, “it turns out, we just kind of get along. The whole opposites attract, I guess. He’s saved me—more than once. And the fact that the ruthless Prince of Hell was so gentle, just for me. Well, it made me fall in love.” I smile again, unsure if the words leaving my mouth were still pretend.
Sariya returns the expression, warm and full of such love. “What a beautiful story. But, Daisy, I believe you are not the only one who has been saved.”
I blink, my smile falling as I’m entirely caught off guard.
“Korithax has had a troubled life,” she continues softly. “Being the future King of Hell could never come without pain. But even for a creature born of fire and fury… he deserved a little light in his life. And now, he has been gifted the brightest light of all.”
Her words hit something tender in me, causing my eyes to well up and a lump to form in my throat. “Thank you, Sariya. Your words mean a lot.”
“Of course.” She stands, extending a hand. “Come. Walk with me?” I nod, looping my arm through hers as she leads me towards the door. “Let me show you my realm, little flower.”
We’ve been walkingfor about an hour, Sariya guiding me through the glowing heart of her kingdom. Every step is filledwith wonder, every corner a burst of colour and life. The streets are lined with open stalls displaying woven silks in the hues of sunrise, baked breads glistening with honey, and jewellery made from the finest gold that glints in the sunlight. She loops through cobbled alleys where dancers spin in ribbons of amber cloth, their laughter rising with the chime of bells and the hum of music that sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard before.
Sariya greets everyone she passes with radiant warmth, a true goddess in her element. Her round, pouty lips never falter from the smile she always has on her face. She lifts giggling babies into her arms, placing kisses on their foreheads. She crouches to the height of shy toddlers, plucking flowers from her beautiful curls to tuck behind their ears.
The way the people look at her—with devotion, joy, comfort—it’s no wonder she feels like the sun itself.
We stop at a small stall where an elderly man hands us two cone-shaped pastries wrapped in thin golden paper.
“Try these,” Sariya grins. “They’re called Solpetas. Flaky pastry filled with citrus cream and dusted in powdered sugar.”
