The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 30: The History of The Fae

Chapter 30: The History of The Fae

The next sunny day arrived quickly, and he left while it was still twilight, so she pretended to be asleep as she didn’t want to encounter him or behold that evil smirk on his face.

Her cheeks were flushed pink as they tidied the library, dusting the books and sorting the shelves. But it wasn’t the labor that warmed her skin. It was his words—those raw, wicked, forbidden words that had slithered into her mind, lodging themselves deep. The weight of them, the sheer audacity of them, struck her like a fever.

She could almost taste his lips, feel the slide of his tongue, the searing heat of his bare body against hers. The thought made her inwardly shriek. He had planted something dark in her mind, a hellish flower she had no business tending to—yet here she was, watering it with reckless abandon, succumbing to its beauty.

She wanted him. Oh good Gods, she wanted him. And that was the most awful part of it all, it wasn’t just desire, it wasn’t just longing. She wanted her husband. The man who had scoffed at love, stripped it and simply dismissed it as if it were nothing more than a child’s folly.

When this marriage ended, she knew she would suffer. If this was why people called him a devil, she could not refute it. She had been drawn to him from the moment their eyes met in that sanctuary—just before the bite, he made her heart slip away for him, long before her heart betrayed her by stirring at the mere thought of him.

She loathed how defenseless she had become. On one side, her power swelled, pressing against the dam she had built to contain it. On the other, the storm of her emotions raged, threatening to set her ablaze from within. And today, despite the exhaustion pulling at her limbs, she felt lightheaded, intoxicated, as though she had downed an entire barrel of strong ale. Nausea churned in her stomach, but she couldn’t tell if it was from fatigue or something far more dangerous.

She handed a stack of dusted books to Gloria, who hesitated, shifting awkwardly as if debating whether to speak.

"Go on, ask your question, Gloria. I haven’t lost my mind. At least not yet," Ren said abruptly, making the maid flinch.

Gloria’s voice wavered. "Did you ask Healer Rigo for Al-Gathiran Kin?" Her gaze flicked to the left, uneasy.

Ren exhaled sharply. "Yes. And can you believe the History of the Fae shelf was filled with completely unrelated books? It’s been three hours since I asked for that damned information." Her tone was cold, dry.

"Milady," Gloria whispered, "he’s been standing there for an hour."

Ren stiffened. She turned slowly, her boots clicking against the floor. Sure enough, Healer Rigo stood behind her, wearing an awkward, sheepish grin.

"You were... busy," he said, then cleared his throat. "And thinking."

Ren swallowed hard. Thank the gods they can’t read my thoughts.

She spun fully to face him and smoothed her expression. Hopefully, neither of these people could read the content of her thoughts, otherwise, she had to go and hide herself in a cave. "Thank you for bringing me the book," she said, eyes flicking to the thick, there was a well-preserved tome in his hands.

"Your Highness asked for you at the training arena," he reminded her, for what must have been the third time since early in the morning. The words sent a sharp jolt of adrenaline through her veins.

As if I could sleep after what he said.

"I’ll meet him after reading this," she said, casting a glance around the library. They had worked tirelessly, and yet they had only managed to clean one section.

"We must clear this place within a week, Healer Rigo."

He smiled. "We will. I’m just glad someone finally cares about this place."

She walked to a quiet corner with Gloria, flipping open the book. "Let’s see who these people are," she murmured and began to read aloud.

*

Shoving aside the turmoil in her mind—a turmoil wrought entirely by him and her own assistant—Ren forced herself to focus on the history of the Fae.

King Xakiel Al-Gathiran had ruled the Fae realm for twenty thousand years, his reign spanning the entirety of the Second Era. He had four legitimate heirs—three sons and one daughter—from two Fae wives. But what left Ren gaping was the sheer number of concubines and offspring. Over twenty consorts, from various species. Among them was Agaraith, known as Agara, his first illegitimate son, born to a human mother.

She didn’t skim a word, absorbing details about their customs, laws, and mysteries she had never known. One story, in particular, made her chest tighten; the king’s only legitimate daughter had vanished two decades ago, running away with an unknown lover after three thousand years of life. Her ashes had been returned home. Ren’s fingers tightened on the page. She found the man she loved... and it killed her.

A map detailed a great barrier in the Monsters’ Ocean, splitting the two worlds. Yet there was no explanation of what made someone eligible to cross it. No ship had ever returned from those storm-ridden waters. Merchants who lost their way vanished into the abyss. And yet, somehow, a Fae princess had found her way to a mortal lover.

That must be a fascinating tale worth telling.

Further down, she found something else—shifters had once belonged to the Fae bloodline but had been exiled for breaking their laws. They had scattered, some settling in Thegara. No wonder Thegara’s shifters still guarded that old temple in Veil Valley.

Flipping another page, Ren’s eyes flickered at the sight of a golden dragon illustration.

"My uncle has one," she murmured, a pang of sadness tightening her chest. "He let me touch it when I was six."

Gloria shivered. "Wasn’t it terrifying?"

Ren shook her head. "Sunkiath is massive and still young, but he wasn’t agitated. He’s gentle with his keeper and my uncle. Even as a child, I wasn’t afraid." She smiled, though it was bitter.

Gloria sighed. "I heard about the Dragon Rider King. My father said that after he took our realm and slew our tyrant king, the people reclaimed their land and farms. Your uncle helped them."

Ren caught the hardness in the girl’s jaw and softened her tone. "Why didn’t your father return home?"

Gloria hesitated. "He loves Thegara. I do too. But maybe one day... I’ll visit."

Ren squeezed her arm. "You will."

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