Chapter 417: The Demon Cousin 3

The moment Chloe finished her third piece of bread, she let out a loud, dramatic yawn, pushed her chair back with a harsh scrape, and stood up.

"That was barely acceptable," Chloe declared, though there wasn’t a single drop of soup left in her bowl. "I am going to my room now to take a four-hour beauty nap. Do not disturb me unless a luxury delivery arrives or the world is ending."

She turned on her high heels and strutted out of the dining room, her pink hoodie swishing behind her.

Grayson waited until the heavy double doors clicked shut before he let out a long, weary sigh. He rubbed his temples with his long fingers, looking as if he had just survived a five-hour battle with an invading army.

"She is exhausting," Grayson muttered softly, his deep voice heavy with annoyance. "Ten minutes in her presence feels like ten years in a dark dungeon."

Mailah smiled gently, reaching across the table to cover his hand with hers. "Come on. Let’s go to the sunroom so you can relax."

Grayson’s sharp, dark eyes instantly softened as he looked at Mailah. His hand turned over, interlocking his fingers with hers in a firm, warm grip. "A brilliant idea, my love. Away from the noise."

He stood up, effortlessly pulling Mailah up into his arms despite her soft protests that she could walk fine now. He carried her down the sunlit hallway, holding her close against his broad chest as if she were made of delicate glass. He brought her to the sunroom, settling her comfortably onto the soft velvet sofa surrounded by fresh green plants and warm sunlight.

Grayson dropped down onto his knees on the rug right beside her sofa. He picked up a plush cashmere blanket and carefully draped it over her legs, making sure her wrapped foot was resting at a soft, precise angle.

"Is that comfortable?" Grayson asked, his deep voice dropping into that quiet, velvety tone that always made Mailah’s heart flutter. "Is the temperature acceptable? Should I order the sun to shine brighter?"

"It’s perfect, Grayson," Mailah laughed softly, running her fingers through his thick dark hair. "You don’t need to fix the sun."

Grayson leaned his face into her touch, resting his cheek against her warm palm. For a few sweet moments, the quiet room was filled only with the soft sound of their breathing and the gentle rustle of leaves outside.

Mailah looked down at his handsome, sharp face. "Grayson?"

"Yes, my queen?" he murmured, closing his eyes as her thumb gently stroked his cheekbone.

"Why are you really so suspicious of Chloe?" Mailah asked softly. "You seemed genuinely angry when you realized she was banished recently."

Grayson opened his dark charcoal eyes. The soft, adoring look in his gaze shifted into something dark, sharp, and deeply analytical. He sat up slightly, resting his arms on the edge of the sofa near her legs.

"Because I know how our realm works, Mailah," Grayson explained, his deep voice turning low and serious. "Even back in the realm, Chloe was not much different from how she is now. She was loud, stubborn, obsessed with useless glittering trinkets, and utterly insufferable. She drove the elder court insane every single day."

He crossed his broad arms, his sharp jaw tightening. "So her getting cast out is not surprising in itself. But here is the problem: the High Elders do not banish a royal demon to the human realm just because she was being extremely annoying. They do not hand down eternal exile over broken vases, loud complaints, or ruined robes."

Mailah blinked, leaning forward slightly. "They don’t?"

"Never," Grayson stated flatly, his dark eyes burning with an intense light. "Eternal exile to the human world is a severe, terrible punishment. It is reserved for massive crimes. Treachery. Stealing sacred artifacts. Or breaking the fundamental dark laws of our kind. Chloe must have done something truly serious to get cast down here... and she is hiding it behind pink hoodies, cheap iced coffee, and a fake human teenage attitude."

Grayson’s eyes narrowed into dangerous, icy slits as his dark aura flared faintly around his broad shoulders.

"And I am determined to find out what it was," Grayson growled softly, his voice echoing with cold authority. "No matter what means I have to use. I will tear apart the ancient realm records. I will drag my brothers back here and force them to speak. Or I will wring her loud little neck until she tells me the truth herself."

Mailah’s eyes widened. She reached out and gave his broad shoulder a firm, stern nudge. "Grayson Ashford! Stop that right now!"

Grayson froze. He blinked, looking up at Mailah with a look of pure, innocent confusion. "Stop what?"

"No tearing records, no dragging your brothers, and absolutely no wringing necks!" Mailah scolded, giving him her strict, unyielding look. "You promised me you would treat her like family! She is living under our roof!"

Grayson looked like he had just been ordered to eat a bowl of hot gravel. His sharp jaw twitched in physical agony. "Mailah! She could be hiding a dangerous secret! I am a demon prince in charge of the exiles in this century! It is my duty to protect this home and keep you safe from any threat!"

"She looks like a twenty-year-old girl in fuzzy slippers who cried because her coffee didn’t have oat milk!" Mailah pointed out firmly. "She is not a threat, Grayson. She is just acting out."

Grayson opened his mouth to argue, his dark pride screaming at him to take control, but under Mailah’s clear, calm gaze, his posture completely deflated. He let out a dramatic, sulking sigh that sounded like a wounded animal.

He slumped forward, burying his face directly into Mailah’s lap with a deep groan.

"You are far too soft," Grayson mumbled, his deep voice muffled by the fabric of her dress. "You are stripping away my dark authority. What kind of terrifying demon prince am I if I cannot even interrogate my own cousin?"

Mailah laughed softly, running her warm hand down his broad, tense back. "You are a very handsome, very dramatic demon who listens to his wife."

Grayson lifted his head slowly, resting his chin on her knee. He pouted up at her, looking like a giant, moody prince who didn’t get his way.

"I shall obey your command," Grayson rasped out tightly, every word sounding like torture to his ego. "I will not wring her neck. I will not drag my brothers. I will simply glare at her from across the room with intense, lingering suspicion."

"No scary glaring either," Mailah smiled, pinching his ear gently.

"You demand too much of me!" Grayson gasped softly, placing a hand over his broad chest in dramatic betrayal. "You are asking a creature of darkness to act like a polite human gentleman!"

"And you do it so well," Mailah whispered, leaning down to press a sweet, lingering kiss against his sharp lips.

Grayson’s dark eyes widened slightly before he melted into the kiss completely. His long fingers reached up, gently holding the back of her head as he deepened the touch, his breath warm and sweet against her face. When he finally pulled back, his bright blue eyes were glowing with absolute warmth, all his anger completely forgotten.

"You are a terrible, beautiful distractor," Grayson murmured, his thumb tracing her jawline with endless affection.

Mailah smiled, resting her hands over his warm wrists. "Grayson... if she was always like this back home, what was her life actually like? What is Chloe’s history?"

Grayson paused. The dramatic, sulking smirk on his face slowly faded, replaced by a quiet, thoughtful expression. He looked down at the soft rug beneath his knees, his dark eyes staring into the past.

"Her history," Grayson said softly, his deep voice echoing through the quiet sunroom, "is not a grand tale of war or victory like mine or my brothers. It is... pathetic. And deeply miserable."

Mailah leaned in closer, listening carefully.

"In our realm, royal houses are built on power, darkness, and violent strength," Grayson explained slowly. "My brothers and I were born warriors. We were taught to fight, command armies, and rule territories before we even reached our first century. But Chloe... Chloe was born into the cold, distant House of Valerius."

Grayson shook his head, a dark shadow passing over his sharp features.

"Her father was an ancient, ruthless warlord who cared for nothing except territory and status. He had six sons who were all powerful warriors. And then, nearly four hundred years ago, Chloe was born—the youngest, smallest, and only daughter."

Mailah felt a tiny knot form in her chest. "Was she... weak?"

"In the eyes of her family, she was worse than weak. She was useless," Grayson said flatly. "Her dark magic did not manifest as destructive fire or terrifying shadows. It manifested as small, delicate things—preservation, light, and aesthetic creation. She could make dead flowers bloom again, or turn rough stones into smooth, sparkling crystals. To her brutal brothers and cold father, her magic was an absolute embarrassment."

Mailah’s heart ache with a sudden, deep pang of sympathy. "So what did they do to her?"

"They ignored her," Grayson murmured, his tone dark and somber. "In our realm, being hated is dangerous, but being ignored is slow torture. Her father did not want a ’weak’ daughter showing her face at royal gatherings. So he locked her away in a massive, grand palace on the edge of his territory."

Grayson looked up into Mailah’s eyes, his expression serious.

"It was a fortress made of cold white marble and heavy gold," Grayson continued. "It was filled with thousands of priceless jewels, fine silks, glittering gowns, and golden toys. Her father gave her unlimited wealth so she would stay quiet and out of sight. But she was completely alone. No mother. No friends. No brothers to train her or speak to her. Just empty, golden rooms and silent stone walls."

Mailah swallowed hard, her eyes growing misty. "She lived alone in a giant palace?"

"For three hundred years," Grayson nodded slowly. "She had no one to talk to. So she began talking to her glittering trinkets. She collected fine dresses, expensive jewels, and shiny objects because they were the only things in that cold house that didn’t turn their back on her. She surrounded herself with beauty because her life was entirely empty."

Grayson let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"When she finally grew old enough to leave her palace and enter the royal court, she didn’t know how to act like a normal demon," Grayson explained. "She was terrified that people would see how lonely and weak she felt. So she built a shield. She decided that if she acted loud, spoiled, arrogant, and outrageously demanding, no one would ever look past her shiny clothes to see her pain. She learned that if she shouted and made a scene, people were forced to pay attention to her—even if they hated her."

Grayson looked toward the sunroom door, his sharp eyes filled with a rare, quiet understanding.

"Negative attention," Grayson said softly, "was better than being invisible."

Silence settled over the sunroom.

Mailah sat completely still, her heart aching so deeply for the annoying, pink-hoodie-wearing girl sleeping upstairs. She finally understood why Chloe snapped her gum, why she complained about secondary private jets, and why she was so deeply obsessed with designer clothes and iced coffee.