Thornhill Academy. Chapter 92

**Allison**

I watch, utterly bewildered, as Rhaziel turns to one of the soldiers and orders him to take me up to “our room.” Then, as if he hadn’t just dropped a massive relationship declaration in front of ten demons and my very confused face, he commands the others to follow him and disappears into a wall of shadow. Just like that. Gone.

I blink at the spot where he was standing. “Does he not realise that leaving a girl alone in a shadowy, nightmare realm without so much as a ride home is just… rude?” I mutter under my breath.

“My Queen,” a voice says quietly, drawing my attention.

The demon in front of me has his head bowed, tail flicking anxiously behind him. His horns are short, curved, and his skin is a deep grey-blue that glows faintly under the torchlight. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I sigh. “Cut the ‘Queeny bullshit and look up at me, please.”

He hesitates, like that might actually be punishable by death, but then slowly lifts his head. His eyes are pale lilac, wide and terrified, like he’s the one who’s been kidnapped by a giant demon king.

“What’s your name?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“T-Tully,” he stammers, voice soft but sincere. Clearly trying very hard not to bow again or tack a ‘my queen’ onto the end.

“Alright, Tully,” I say, nodding once. “Can you take me back to school?”

He freezes. I swear I can almost see the mental images flashing through his mind—none of them pleasant. “Uh… I… I could, yes, but…” He glances toward the door Rhaziel vanished through, visibly paling. “I fear the King would… kill me for that.”

Another long, deep sigh escapes me. “Well, we wouldn’t want you losing your head, now would we?”

He blinks. “No… my… no.”

“Right. So. Plan B.” I gesture vaguely to the towering, obsidian castle around us. “Show me to the nearest bed so I can lie down and see if I can wake up from this dream.”

Tully’s expression is a mix of confusion, horror, and please-don’t-make-me-responsible-for-this. His tail flicks again, quick and nervous, before he gestures up a sweeping staircase carved from black marble.

“This way, my—uh—Miss,” he says finally, tripping over my name like it’s forbidden.

“Good save,” I mutter, following him up the stairs, my boots echoing through the empty, candlelit corridor.

As we walk, I glance back once at the shadows lingering where Rhaziel disappeared. They seem… alive. Watching. Waiting.

I rub my arms, trying to shake the chill creeping into my skin. “I swear,” I mumble to myself, “if this is all some weird fever dream, my subconscious really needs to stop reading romance novels before bed.”

Tully leads me through a set of enormous black doors carved with swirling runes and demon script that glows faintly blue under the light. The moment they open, I’m hit with a wave of warmth and shadow-scented air that smells faintly like smoke, steel, and something darkly sweet like burnt sugar.

“This is the King’s chamber,” Tully says hesitantly, gesturing inside. “And, ah, yours as well, of course.”

“Right,” I mutter, stepping past him. “Mine. Sure.”

The room looks like it was ripped straight out of some gothic fantasy painting—vaulted ceilings dripping with silver chains that hold lanterns filled with blue flame, tall black windows veined with silver, heavy curtains spilling to the floor like spilled ink. The bed is ridiculously massive. Its sheets are a deep wine-red, threaded with black embroidery that swirls into patterns I don’t even recognise. I don’t care. I don’t care about the fancy furniture, or the silken rugs, or the literal throne that sits in front of a fireplace the size of a mini car. I make a straight path for the bed, kick off my shoes mid-step, and flop down face-first, arms spread wide.

It’s… soft. Too soft. Like sleeping on a cloud that smells faintly of lightning and sin.

“Do you need anything… Miss?” Tully’s voice comes from somewhere behind me, awkward and nervous, like he’s scared that if he breathes wrong, I’ll explode or something.

I wave a lazy hand in the direction of his voice, my face still buried in the bedspread. “Nope. Just fine and dandy here, Tully. Thanks.”

There’s a pause, and then the quiet click of the door shutting behind him.

Alone.

Finally, blessedly, alone.

Well. Alone in a different realm, sure, but still.

I roll over onto my back, staring up at the carved ceiling where faint constellations shimmer between the shadows. My brain, the absolute traitor that it is, starts sorting through the disaster of a night I’ve just had.

Okay. Step one: Tessa and Rynor are fated. That’s sweet. Good for her. I’m happy for her. Really. Totally.

Step two: Me. Five. Five fated mates.

I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and groan. I had my suspicions about Kael, his temper of late, the cryptic argument with Evander and the pull I felt when he looked at me. And I already knew about Evander. That bond was obvious. But Professor Hill? Professor fucking Hill? My moody, strict and professional as fuck teacher? And then there’s the Demon King—Mr. “Hello, my Queen”, he said, all horns and shadows and ridiculous jawlines. And last but definitely least, the almighty ass-hat himself: Cage.

I throw an arm dramatically over my face. Of all the people in this forsaken, fate-cursed world, why him? The man would sooner push me off another cliff than hold my hand. Or, you know, say a nice word without it sounding like an insult. I groan again, louder this time, kicking my feet against the ridiculously soft sheets.

“Fates, if this is your idea of a joke,” I mutter, “it’s not funny.”

The ceiling doesn’t answer. Figures.

Five mates. Five. I mean, some people go their whole lives never finding one, and somehow the universe decided to throw an entire damn set at me like it was a buy-one-get-four-free deal. What am I supposed to do with that? Line them up? Take turns? Create a bloody rota schedule? I drag a hand down my face and groan again. Evander, I trust. Kael… maybe, though he’s still avoiding me like I’m radioactive. Cassian is a professor, which, you know, kind of makes this entire situation illegal. Cage hates me, and I’d return the favour any day of the week. And Rhaziel? Rhaziel is a literal demon king. A walking, talking fever dream with horns, claws, and eyes that could probably convince angels to sin. And yet when he looks at me, I don’t feel afraid. Not exactly. It’s something else. Something that burns low in my chest and whispers that he’s mine—that all of them are. I exhale sharply, turning onto my side.

“Get it together, Allison,” I whisper to the empty room. “You’re not some fairytale heroine. You’re a siphon with impulse issues and now five soulmates. Fantastic.”