The Demon’s Bride Novel – Astraea’s Pov I sat rigid on the cold bench with my arms crossed tightly against my chest, and my legs crossed at the knee. For three long, maddening days, I’d been confined to my room with no explanations, and not even a chance to defend myself. All I had was the deafening silence and the seriousness of the accusations that had been hurled my way. Murderer. Traitor. A disgrace to the House of Vaelthar.
The words haunted me, even though I’d only heard them from the guards that were stationed outside my door. False accusations, every one of them. I did not killed Prince Caldris of Arkarion like they all believed I did. Arkarion was the neighboring kingdom that governed the southern underworld, and the fact that they all thought I was daring enough to infiltrate another kingdom to kill their only heir, made me wonder how come they suddenly thought of highly of me.
Try as I might to explain that I was innocent, no one believed me—not my own brother, Demon King Therion Vaelthar, not the Assembly, and certainly not the one who orchestrated this entire charade: Valkyrie, Therion’s adopted daughter and the kingdom’s golden child. Valkyrie. Just thinking her name made my nails bite into my palms. Clever, calculating, and dangerously charming, she’d positioned herself as the perfect heir in Therion’s eyes—a role I’d never wanted but now seemed forced to defend.
My innocence wasn’t just a matter of my pride; it was my life on the line. The doors of the hall opened, and I straightened, my heart pounding with dread. The Assembly entered first, and I scanned their faces as they took their seats one by one. Eryndor, the eldest of the Assembly and a man with piercing silver eyes that seemed to see through your soul, settled at the center. To his left was Kaelor, who had an expression of disdain on his face as usual.
On Eryndor’s right sat Selyna, the lone woman among them, her face as unreadable as the stars she was communed with, and last was Galdric, the youngest of the Assembly but no less intimidating. And then came Therion. My brother walked into the hall, with his dark horns curled back against his head, and his eye, once warm, now cold as steel. He didn’t even look at me as he climbed up his throne at the center of the dais. “Let the trial of Astraea Vaelthar commence,” he commanded. I stood up from my seat, my chin held high despite the quiver in my knees.
The hall was awfully silent, except for the crackling of the fire pits that lined the room, and I could feel all their eyes on me—judging, scrutinizing, and condemning. “Astraea,” Eryndor began, “you stand accused of the murder of Prince Caldris of Arkarion, and the evidence against you is substantial. Witnesses claim to have seen you in the vicinity of the Arkarion borders on the shadefall of his death, and a dagger bearing your insignia was found at the scene.
What do you say to these charges?” I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. “I am innocent. I did not kill Prince Caldris, and I was nowhere near Arkarion that shadefall. I was here, within the palace walls.” “And yet,” Kaelor interjected, his lips curling into a sneer, “your dagger was found plunged into his heart. Are you suggesting someone stole it? A rather convenient excuse, don’t you think?”