All Chapters of The Devil From Deira: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

***WARNING*** THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A NSFW SCENE***Three days after the physicians announced the distressing news of Augustus' condition, the royal family had sunk into sadness. They had remained alternately by the side of their fainting father. Isabelle had remained at Adrian's residence after checking on the king, and Nefertiti had not yet arrived.The ministers paid their last respects and prepared for Frederick's coronation.Adrian sat at his mother's grave, Isabelle at his side. He gently stroked her hair as she lay in his arms. He had a feeling that something big was about to happen in Deira. Something that would shake them all."What are you thinking about?" Isabelle asked as she rose. "What's troubling you?""Nothing," he lied."I thought we said we had no secrets," she pouted."Father is dying of an unknown illness and Frederick is showing the same symptoms," he sighed. "I cannot shake the suspicion that there's a connection."Isabelle sat up and hugged her husband affection

The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire, the flames casting long shadows against the walls. Adrian stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon, a place where the sky met the earth, much like the war he was about to face. Isabelle stood across the room, her arms crossed, watching him with a mix of sadness and determination.“You still haven’t answered me, Adrian,” Isabelle said, her voice low but firm.He turned slowly, meeting her gaze. “I’m not leaving you behind, Isabelle.”She clenched her fists, stepping toward him. “Then why send me away? You say you want me safe, but leaving me behind feels like you’re abandoning me.”“I’m doing this because I love you,” Adrian replied, his voice harsh with frustration. “Deira will burn, and I need you to be somewhere safe.”“I can fight alongside you. I’m not helpless, Adrian.”A heavy silence settled between them. Adrian's expression softened, the storm in his eyes dissipating. “I cannot lose you again, Isabelle. I’ve l

The palace, once resplendent with gold-tipped laughter and murmurs of legacy, now held a strange kind of quiet. It was the kind of silence that clung to the walls after mourning — thick, uncertain, and full of unspoken dread. A week had passed since King Frederick's funeral, and already the air was changing. Power shifted like loose sand beneath the feet of those who dared to stand still.In the far wing of the palace, Queen Victoria lay wrapped in layers of silk and unease. Her skin was pallid, her eyes dim. The once-imperial crown princess who had wielded wit and grace like a blade was now reduced to silence and shallow breaths.Only the flicker of candlelight illuminated her trembling hand as it scrawled across parchment, each letter carved with urgency.Dearest Adrian,I do not know how much time I have left, but I must beg for your help. Indira has made her move, and I believe she means to kill me. If you receive this letter, please, come to my aid. Deira needs you now more than

Adrian signaled to them and they clutched their bags with them. When they approached the border, they sighed in relief. Spencer stood on watch duty while Adrian spoke with the pair.“Make sure to avoid the military. They’ll no doubt recognize you. Be safe,” he gave them instructions.Louis watched as Leopold tightened his back, slung over his shoulder and adjusted Victoria’s own. He placed his right hand on his sword as if to confirm if it was still there. “You’re a man now. Protect her,” Adrian stared into his brother’s eyes and they exchanged a knowing look. “Did you say goodbye to Lydia?”Leopold’s eyes widened at the realization that he hadn’t even bothered to bid farewell to Lydia. He chuckled when he imagined her face when she realized he was gone. He looked at Louis and grunted, “Take care of her. I probably won’t see her again.”Victoria took Adrian’s hands in hers and looked at him straight in the eyes. He bore a little resemblance to Frederick. “If you’re going to fight,

Morning came softly to Adrian’s castle. A pall of fog hung over the towers, dimming the sunlight that usually spilled into the courtyards. The air felt weighted as though the stones themselves held their breath. The servants spoke in quieter tones now, their steps careful, their laughter muffled by the sense that the castle was listening.Princess Isabelle awoke before dawn, as she always did, though lately rising had become an act of will. The ache in her limbs had settled deep — a dull, persistent heaviness that neither rest nor tonics could ease. She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, steadying her breath, her palm pressed lightly to her temple. A faint dizziness brushed her mind each morning, like the world had shifted just slightly beneath her feet. She could feel the bile rising up her throat.Lydia entered without being called, carrying a basin of warm water and a folded towel. She had begun doing that every morning, anticipating needs before Isabelle voiced them.“You di