10. Enoch

10

ENOCH

T he ballroom buzzes with the hum of demon nobility. Chandeliers dripping with crystals cast a cold light over the sea of silks and satins.

I stand near the grand staircase, dressed in a soft black velvet suit.

“Enoch, darling,” Lady Seraphina purrs, sidling up to me. Her eyes flicker with desire. “You look positively regal tonight.”

I force a smile. “Seraphina, always a pleasure. How’s your father’s new conquest?”

“Same as the last,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “But let’s talk about you. Rumor has it you’ve been keeping interesting company.”

“Rumors are for the weak-minded,” I reply, my gaze drifting over her shoulder.

Lily moves through the crowd, balancing a tray of goblets with practiced ease. Her hair, tied back, reveals the scar on her cheek.

She’s close to Griselda, who watches her carefully with narrowed eyes.

“Still, they’re entertaining,” Seraphina says, leaning closer. “Especially the ones about a certain human.”

I narrow my eyes. “Careful, Seraphina. Curiosity kills.”

She laughs, the sound grating against my nerves. “Oh, Enoch, you’re such a tease. Nothing can kill me.”

“Excuse me,” I say, stepping away before she can trap me further. I weave through the throng, my eyes fixed on Lily.

She pauses by the edge of the dance floor, offering drinks to a pair of demons. One of them, a sneering brute named Morvan, snatches a goblet and spills half of it on her hand.

“Clumsy human,” he sneers. “Watch yourself.”

Lily bites her lip, simply looking away silently. Anger coils in my gut, but I force myself to stay calm.

“Morvan,” I call out, approaching them. “Your dexterity appears to be lacking.”

He turns, surprise flickering across his face. “Enoch. Didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” I say, taking a goblet from Lily’s tray. Our fingers brush, a spark of warmth in this cold room.

Morvan’s eyes narrow, but he bows and turns away.

Lily’s eyes meet mine for a brief moment, gratitude and worry mingling. I want to reach out, to tell her everything will be alright, but we’re surrounded by eyes and ears.

The music shifts, and the crowd begins to dance. I spot Bethana at the far end of the room, her eyes scanning the guests. She’s looking for any sign of weakness, any reason to tighten her grip.

“Enjoying the festivities?” a voice says beside me. It’s Rylan, another noble, his eyes sharp.

“As much as one can,” I reply, keeping my tone light.

He chuckles. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Enoch.”

“Better than being a terrible bore,” I shoot back, and yet I cringe inside. This is the role I'm expected to play. The rude princeling. I feel somehow different now and my old ways feel hollow.

Rylan’s smile fades. “Watch yourself. Your mother’s patience isn’t infinite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, my eyes once again finding Lily. She’s moved to another group, her shoulders tense.

Looking around at Rylan and the others, I wonder how many others are as dissatisfied with their roles as I am. The cold night air prickles my skin and I hear the murmurs of dissatisfaction around me. In my insular arrogance, I'd never noticed anyone else before.

Lily has changed all that. Suddenly I see the world around me for what it is. Dark, depressing, painful.

Mother’s voice cuts through the murmurs of the crowd, each word a blade.

"Attention, everyone," she announces, standing on the raised dais, her golden eyes sweeping over the assembly, "I have an announcement!"

My breathing stops. I know what is coming and yet it still comes as a shock.

"Please welcome Lady Vespera, my son's betrothed!"

Vespera, draped in silver and obsidian, steps forward, her eyes cold and calculating.

My mother’s gaze locks onto mine, challenging, daring me to defy her.

"No," I say, my voice clear and unwavering. The crowd gasps, a ripple of shock spreading through the room.

Mother’s eyes narrow. "Enoch, this is not the time for jokes."

"It’s not a joke," I retort, stepping forward. "I refuse this betrothal."

Vespera’s expression hardens, her eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? Did he just say no?"

Two male demons step up behind her, and I assume from their furious faces that they are her male relatives.

"How dare you!" one of them bellows. "Bethana! Is this how our good faith discussions are repaid? By arrogant disrespect?"

My mother steps forward, tall, radiating power, and I see even the largest demon behind Vespera quavers slightly.

"I mean no disrespect to your illustrious family," I say, watching all the eyes shift back to me. "I’m sure Lady Vespera is the most highly sought-after prize worth winning."

I bow to her, though her eyes are blazing with angry flames.

"It is not a reflection on her worthiness or beauty. It is simply that my mother and I have separate ideas about my life."

The crowd buzzes with whispers, their shock palpable. I feel the weight of their expectations, their scorn, but also their wonder. I stand tall, my resolve firm.

My voice rings out. "I will not be a pawn in these games."

Mother’s face contorts with fury, her regal composure slipping. She grabs me and hisses into my ear. "You would throw away everything for a human? Is that what this is about?"

"I’m tired of living a lie," I say, my voice growing louder, more confident. "Tired of pretending that cruelty and domination are the only ways to live. I want something new."

"Like what?" My mother's voice is scornful.

"I don't know," I say, smiling my best arrogant princeling smile. "But I think I'm not alone in saying it would be nice to have something different."

The word hangs in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. The crowd stares, their disbelief turning to awe.

Vespera has had enough. With a screech she flings her hands toward us. The ballroom erupts in chaos as Vespera throws a ball of flame in my direction. Demons shriek and dodge out of the way.

Vespera's family seems unsure whether to contain her anger or contribute. My mother's power is legendary, and they are hesitant to openly fight her.

I raise a hand and deflect the flame, sending it whooshing over the heads of other scurrying demons into the wall where it explodes into sparks.

Glasses and screaming fills the hall as demons run for any cover they can find as Vespera launches another lash of flame in my direction.

My mother, usually the picture of composed elegance, loses her composure. Her golden eyes blaze with fury as she tries to regain control, but it’s too late. The tide has turned.

"How dare you!" she screams, her voice cutting through the cacophony. "You ungrateful wretch!"

I'm not sure if she is yelling at me or Vespera whose second attempt explodes into harmless blue wisps at my mother's mere gesture.

I use the distraction of Vespera’s anger to slip away, my heart pounding. I weave through the throng of demons, most totally ignoring me in their attempt to both stay safe and see the chaos unfold.

Lily. I need to find her.

I hear snips of shouted conversation both wondering and afraid.

"Get behind that table."

"It's wood, you moron."

"What's Enoch think he's doing?" one asks.

"Disgracing his lineage," another replies.

"Don't forget how most demons in his family came to power," came another. "There's always a coup."

The chandeliers above cast long shadows, making it harder to see through the throng.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath. Where is she?

I move deeper into the castle, the noise from the ballroom fading behind me. The stone corridors are cold and silent, a stark contrast to the chaos I’ve left behind. My footsteps echo as I break into a run, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Lily!” I call, my voice bouncing off the walls.

No answer. I keep moving, my mind racing. The castle is a maze, but I know it better than anyone. I take a sharp turn, nearly colliding with a servant carrying a tray of empty goblets.

“Forgive me, my lord," he stammers.

I turn and grab him, pulling him back toward me. The tray crashes to the ground as he looks at me, fear on his face.

"Don't be afraid," I say, then realize it's pointless. The man is clearly terrified. "Lily. Do you know where she is?"

"Li—Lily?"

"She was serving earlier."

The man nods. "Locked in the cells, I think."

I nod at him, then at his shattered glasses which reform into their original goblets. No need for him to get whipped. I start down the passageway.

"Not your mother’s cells," he calls after me. I turn back to look at him. "Griselda's," he says more quietly, his voice full of fear.