Just For A Night

"I got lost."

Kael looked up from his plate.

Elisa stood at the doorway, disheveled, irritated, and visibly exhausted. The sun was already high, streaking gold across the polished floors of the dinner hall.

It was a space carved in full Greatlordian grandeur. Frescoes of past victories wrapped along the walls, half-swallowed by shadows cast from grotesque gargoyle reliefs leering from the vaulted ceiling above. The chandeliers—gold and iron twisted like frozen fire—hung low, heavy, their obsidian-encrusted candlesticks slowly melting into soft pools of wax along the mahogany banquet table below.

This was Kael’s world.

A place meant for gods and tyrants.

And there he sat—barefoot in a throne-like dining chair. He speared a piece of blood sausage onto his fork, entirely too pleased with himself. 

"I distinctly remember you mentioning you learn by experience. And that you didn’t like coddling—especially when you were sick."

Elisa slumped into a chair across from him. "You’d be right."

"Yet you seem thoroughly miserable."

She ignored him.

His attention briefly flickered to his plate. Blood sausages.

It was a habit he had picked up from the humans here. A delicacy of theirs—C-grade blood cooked and caramelized with herbs and spices, mixed with proteins. Unlike drinking directly from a source, where the quality of blood mattered above all else, this method masked its inferiority.

Efficient.

And yet, the thought still mildly unsettled him.

He had no issue drinking from his employees, but eating them? It was a mental distinction, but one he couldn’t shake.

Elisa was watching him now, eyes sharp despite her obvious fatigue.

"Who works here? Humans, I mean. There’s the Cynthia girl."

Kael swallowed his bite, nodding. "Ah yes. Her. And a collection of others. Many humans for a demonkin manor, though a sizable number remain imports from the High Lord Lands."

Elisa frowned slightly, fingers tapping against the table. "What role did I play in this?"

Kael raised a brow.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I mean, it doesn’t seem like me to…" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Never mind. It’s not table talk. I won’t speak further."

"You can tell me, dear. It is not like me to remain offended. For long."

She looked at him then, eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I need to eat. And if I don’t have a stomach left by the end of this conversation, I’ll be sick all over again—"

"You’re afraid."

"Bluntly, yes."

"Of me."

"Who wouldn’t be?"

On impulse, she took a sip of the tea he’d poured. It was warm, rich, and far more soothing than she expected. "Gods, this is good."

Kael raised a brow. "Your favorite blend. Bold, unforgiving, not a hint of subtlety. Just like a certain someone I know."

A beat.

"On the other hand, I source my leaves from demonkin lands. Now they know how to make a good blend."

Elisa didn’t miss a beat. "We both know they’re not ethically sourced."

"Probably not," he said, entirely unbothered. "But the leaves were harvested anyway. May as well make sure someone appreciates the work."

"You’re shameless."

"Charmed," he murmured, taking another bite of his food. 

For the remainder of the morning, he watched as she hesitantly picked up a fork, eyeing her meal like it might poison her.

\\

Pudding. Some salted, stripped meat. Simple, but rich.

She lifted a piece to her mouth, fully expecting to spit it out—the taste too processed, too decadent.

Her body, however, had no issue.

Elisa’s frown deepened.

She had acclimated.

A terrible thought struck her—where had her virtues gone?

She swallowed, exhaling slowly, before setting her utensils down. "Explain what happened over the past five years first. An overview."

Kael wiped his mouth with his napkin, his expression unreadable. "An overview, you say?"

She nodded.

He considered her for a moment before speaking.

"You were my closest advisor."

Her breath hitched.

Kael continued, voice measured. "You refined my ideas, dismissed others entirely. We argued. Constantly. You never held back, and neither did I."

A pause, then a slow, knowing smirk. "And then, when we exhausted ourselves to the point of drivel, we kissed. Your body splayed over the command table, chess pieces toppling over the edge. Breathless. Frustrated. And Lords, you kissed like you fought."

Elisa had only just managed to keep her composure.

"You were insufferable. You never let me win. But that—" his smirk returned, sharper this time, "—I rather enjoyed."

A hot prickle crawled up her spine, and suddenly, her entire body was against her.

No.

Monkey brain, you shut up this instant.

He was arrogant. He was self-serving. He was the opposite of everything she found remotely attractive, mentally speaking.

So why did the thought—

She stuffed a spoonful of pudding into her mouth so fast she nearly choked.

The worst part?

That damn smirk of his.

"You're lying."

Kael hummed. "Am I?"

"Yes. Obviously. Because if I ever kissed you, then clearly, my standards were not only on the floor but actively tunneling a direct path into the Obsidian Steps."

Kael only chuckled. "Then perhaps you should take it up with your past self. She seemed rather fond of me."

She almost threw the spoon at his smug, infuriating face.

“Just because you had your way with me then doesn’t mean you get to joke about this now! I am not the wife you knew. I am a stranger, and so are you!”

Kael’s smirk faded.

For once, he did not have a clever retort, no sharp-edged remark designed to needle at her, to provoke.

"I shouldn’t joke about something that you don’t even remember. That’s not…" He sighed. "That’s not fair to you."

She inhaled sharply, dragging her focus away from the very large, very distracting vampire sitting across from her.

Back to business.

"Why not keep from direct rule in the first place then?"

Kael exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

"Because I am the only one standing between the Dragon Lords and Highcliff."

Elisa blinked.

Kael leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, fingers against his temple. "If I don’t stake my claim on this region, the entire demonkin region will talk of a change in management. None are more hungry than those scaled fiends. You forget that my father and mother were the very model of demonkin Might. It used to be much different then. And while there are a handful of more liberal demonkin states, I strongly suspect whatever force would take over will be much the opposite of me."

His gaze flickered, sharp, assessing. "I don’t think you understand just how much the people of Highcliff would hate that."

Elisa swallowed.

Kael’s voice dipped lower. "For all the power I hold, politically, it is not absolute. The demonkin are a finely tuned machine. One of many things you would have known had you…"

He trailed off.

His jaw tensed.

“You will see it yourself. As I said before, you need to be mentally prepared for this, so here goes: an important wedding will take place between two rulers of nations across each other. A marriage between Ve’tria and Aurmont sets a precedent for the new world order.”

Kael rolled his shoulders, studying her carefully.

"I haven’t exactly told many people of our predicament."

Elisa raised a brow.

"They just know it was a lazy week for me, and that is all. Outside a few of my trusted confidants in this manor, no one else knows."

His fingers tapped against the table once more, slow, deliberate. "Which brings us to the matter at hand."

He met her gaze head-on, and for the first time since she had woken up, there was no teasing, no smugness.

"I need you to be my wife."

Her breath caught.

"Just for a night."

"You make it sound as if I am a fragile thing. It will be fine. I just won’t converse."

“You will find that to be harder to accomplish than you realise,” he countered. “The best thing about this land—our land—is the Basin."

Elisa frowned. “No shit.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. "Unlike Aurmont, which relies on trade and external dependencies, or Ve’tria, which thrives on territorial expansion, Highcliff is self-sustaining."

His smirk was slow, deliberate. "And that, Elisa, is what makes us both a problem and a target—in demon terms. To put it simply, if they want an easy laugh, they will look to us. And if they want an easy scapegoat for future conflicts, they will look to us. And that is most certain to happen. One of the Blac’hils, with a lowly common folk. Not to say that you are lowly in my eyes.”

His gaze darkened. "But the point remains. Which means the Elisa of now will need to look at me as though you remember exactly who I am."

“I hate demon society. All this posturing and maintaining your image.”

She exhaled, fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair. "If I’m going to do this, I need to know what’s expected of me. What do these demonkin nobles expect of a wife?"

Kael smirked. "Oh? Worried about making a fool of yourself?"

“I am not doing this for you.” She gave him a flat look. She can’t believe she would be defending him of all people, but… "If I embarrass myself, I can live with that. But if I humiliate you, then I suspect I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of my life. And Highcliff’s situation will get a whole lot worse."

Kael laughed—a real one.

"Fair point." He shifted, considering. "Bear with me for this one. You’ll be expected to stand beside me, of course. Silent when necessary, opinionated when it suits. A balance of deference and wit."

Elisa raised a brow. "So, the same political games as humans. The same woman-loathing."

"No." He tilted his head, gaze flickering with something unreadable. "You see, humans, for all their talk of diplomacy, still value social hierarchy in their courts. You expect a certain level of decorum, a way of moving, of speaking, of existing within power structures. But demonkin?"

His lips curled slightly. "We value intent. Presence. Strength—not in battle, necessarily, but in presence. No matter the sex. So, they don’t like you because of your womanliness. They won’t like you because of your ineffectiveness. Perceived ineffectiveness, judging by how we have managed this region insofar. Same but different to humans. Not enough cowing of the population, as demonkin would say. "

"So you say. So I should be… what? Assertive?"

"You already are. It’s why you thrived."

She hated that he made it sound like a compliment.

Elisa crossed her arms. "I assume I should be wearing something appropriately ridiculous?"

"Such a lack of appreciation for High fashion. But yes, something befitting a Countess. Though, I assume human attire might be more to your comfort."

"Why? Do demonkin brides walk around in chains and blood?"

"Not always."

She blinked, frowning. 

He looked panicked.

"Joking, of course."