The Demon Palace's great hall was remade for feasting.
Enchanted chandeliers of black iron hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flames casting an unnatural green glow across the chamber. Long tables of obsidian stretched the length of the hall, laden with dishes both terrifying and beautiful. Platters of roasted beasts with curling horns, bowls of fruit that shimmered as though coated in starlight, goblets filled with a wine that smoked faintly when poured.
Demons of every shape and stature crowded the tables—wings folded, tails flicking, eyes glowing with hungry light. The atmosphere buzzed with tension, as though every word spoken carried the weight of politics.
At the head of the hall, upon a raised dais, sat Lilith upon her throne. To her right, Morgana occupied a seat, her armor traded for a dark crimson gown that did nothing to dull her martial presence. She radiated the same controlled ferocity as in the arena, her golden eyes ever-watchful.
And then there was Ethan.
Awkwardly wedged at the end of the dais, between two guards who looked like they could snap him in half without effort, he clutched a goblet of smoky wine as though it were a weapon. His plate held something that looked suspiciously like a roasted spider the size of a cat.
He poked it with a fork. It twitched.
He nearly screamed.
Morgana glanced at him, unimpressed. "It is dead."
Ethan's voice cracked. "Then why did it move?!"
"The nerves spasm when salted." She took a calm sip of her wine. "Eat."
He stared at his plate in horror. "I'd rather starve."
The guards beside him snorted.
At the far end of the dais, a noble rose from his seat, goblet in hand. He was tall and thin, his horns polished to a gleam, his eyes a sharp emerald. When he spoke, his voice carried, smooth as silk but edged with venom.
"My Queen," he said, bowing low. "We of the High Houses have long admired your wisdom. But tonight, we are… troubled."
The hall quieted. Dozens of eyes shifted to Lilith, awaiting her response.
She inclined her head slightly. "Speak your trouble, Lord Kael."
"It is this mortal," Kael said, his gaze flicking with disdain toward Ethan. "Already your mercy toward him weakens our standing in the eyes of the lesser clans. Whispers spread. They say the Queen of Shadows has grown sentimental. Weak."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Ethan sank lower in his chair.
Kael's voice sharpened. "To seat him at your table—at this table—is an insult to every warrior who has bled for our throne. I demand to know: why should this creature sit among us, instead of as ash beneath our feet?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the chandeliers seemed to flicker lower.
Ethan's mouth went dry. He knew he should keep quiet, absolutely still, but—of course—his nerves betrayed him.
"Uh," he croaked, raising one shaky hand like a student caught unprepared. "For the record, I would also like to know why I'm here. Because so far, it feels like one big setup for an execution."
Laughter burst from some of the younger nobles. It wasn't kind laughter, but it cracked the tension.
Kael's face darkened. "He mocks us!"
Ethan flailed. "No, no, I mock myself! Trust me, I'm very consistent about that!"
More laughter, sharper this time. Lilith's lips curved just slightly, though her gaze remained cold. She rose from her throne, and the hall instantly hushed.
"You speak boldly, Lord Kael," she said, her voice soft yet deadly. "But do you forget who sits upon this throne? Do you forget who crushed the armies of men beneath the burning sky?"
Kael bowed, but his jaw tightened. "Never, my Queen. I only remind you that fear is our greatest weapon. And mercy dulls fear."
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "And yet you fear him."
The hall froze.
Kael stiffened. "I… do not—"
"You protest too quickly." Lilith's gaze swept the hall. "This mortal unsettles you all. Not because he is strong. Not because he is clever. But because he is different. And difference is dangerous."
Her words rang through the chamber. Whispers rose again, but quieter now, thoughtful rather than outraged.
Ethan, meanwhile, had stuffed a piece of glowing fruit into his mouth to avoid speaking again. It fizzed like lightning on his tongue, and he yelped, nearly choking.
The nobles stared. Then a few chuckled. Then more. Soon the hall filled with laughter—not cruel this time, but genuine amusement at his ridiculousness.
Lilith let it build before she spoke again. "See? He brings laughter to this hall. Even fear bends before it. That, too, is power."
Kael's face was thunderous, but he bowed stiffly and returned to his seat.
The banquet resumed, but the air had shifted. Where once Ethan was seen as a joke, now he was an oddity—a curiosity that even Lilith seemed to value.
Morgana leaned toward him, her voice low enough only he could hear. "You survive because my sister wills it. But every jest you make paints a target on your back."
Ethan gulped. "Trust me, I don't mean to be funny. It just… leaks out."
Her golden eyes lingered on him, unreadable, before she turned back to her plate.
Across the hall, nobles exchanged wary glances, calculations already forming behind their eyes. If the mortal could sway the Queen's mood with foolishness, then perhaps he was more dangerous than he appeared.
And from her throne, Lilith sipped her wine, eyes fixed on Ethan. When he nearly tipped his goblet over onto his lap, she hid a smile behind the rim of her cup.
The Demon Queen never smiled. And yet, tonight, she almost had.