THE DEVIL I TAMED

The horses were already saddled when Nate emerged from the east wing.

His cloak swept behind him in the breeze, dark blue and laced with silver trim—signaling his presence as a visiting sovereign. The guards stood at attention, but their eyes flickered with uncertainty. None of them knew what would ride beside their king today.

Not even Nate himself.

> "I won't ask him back," he had told himself the night before, as he lay sleepless. "I'll call him only because I must. Not because I want to."

But duty had its demands. And the road to Kareth, the neighboring kingdom hosting the summit, was long and treacherous. Assassins would be eager to test the new king's strength.

And only one creature in his arsenal was feared enough to keep death itself at bay.

He stepped into the chariot, nodding once at his captain, who stood at a distance. Alone, Nate took his seat in the velvet-lined interior.

A quiet breath. One word:

"Jake."

A pulse. A shadow. And then—he was there.

Leaning lazily against the chariot wall like he'd been there all along.

"Miss me already, Your Majesty?" Jake murmured, arms folded, lips curved into a half-smile. His eyes glinted, but the usual fire behind them… dimmed. Contained.

Nate didn't meet his gaze.

"I called for protection," he said calmly. "Not conversation."

Jake clicked his tongue. "So cold. You wound me."

"Jake."

His name, sharp. Final.

And yet, Jake didn't retreat. He simply exhaled slowly and dropped the teasing—mostly.

"Understood," he said, voice smoother, more respectful. "I'll keep my tongue to myself."

But the grin that followed was anything but innocent.

The chariot began to move.

Outside, the golden towers of Velisya slowly gave way to wild green forests and rocky hills. The capital faded behind them. And inside, the silence stretched.

Jake didn't speak.

Not at first.

But Nate could feel him—always. Like a storm cloud pressing just over his shoulder. He sat perfectly upright, hands gloved, posture princely.

But his mind was a battlefield.

> He killed Eric.

He didn't kill Eric.

He wanted obedience. Maybe he snapped.

But why does he look at me like that—like I matter? Like he's waiting for something soft from me?

His throat tightened.

He hated this.

The silence broke.

Jake's voice was low, casual. "You think I did it, don't you?"

Nate flinched.

He hadn't expected Jake to say it first.

"I didn't say that."

Jake tilted his head, watching him. "But you believe it."

A long pause. The chariot rattled over a patch of stone.

"I don't know what I believe," Nate admitted finally. "That's the problem."

Jake looked away then, out the narrow window slit, his smile slipping just slightly.

"I didn't kill him," he said, almost softly. "But I didn't stop it either."

Nate's heart seized.

"What does that mean?" he asked, voice sharp.

Jake met his eyes.

"It means he bound me and thought he could control me. It means he feared me and tried to use me like a weapon—without ever seeing me." He leaned in slowly. "It means… when the moment came, I didn't lift a finger to protect a man who treated me like I was beneath him."

Nate's breath caught.

"You could have stopped it."

"I could have," Jake agreed. "But I didn't."

That silence again. Heavy. Honest.

And Nate… didn't know what to feel.

Horror? Maybe. Understanding? Even worse.

> Is this what you are, Jake? Vengeance waiting for a reason to strike? Or are you something else—something twisted, something lonely, something… like me?

Jake broke the silence with a gentle shrug. "I thought about killing him. If that makes you feel better."

"It doesn't."

"Didn't think it would."

But the sharpness was gone from Jake's voice. There was no taunt. Only the bare truth, laid between them like unsheathed steel.

"I don't want to be like him," Nate said quietly.

"Then don't be," Jake answered, almost too quickly. "You have the mark, but you haven't used it. Not really. You haven't tried to break me. You haven't feared me."

"I've been afraid since the first night I summoned you," Nate admitted.

Jake leaned back again, folding his arms, something thoughtful ghosting his features.

"That's different," he said. "Fear isn't always the enemy. Sometimes, it's what keeps people alive."

The chariot passed into a stretch of deep pine trees. Shadows fell across Nate's face. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

And then—Jake shifted just slightly, his voice turning playful again.

"So," he said. "What do I get for being a good little monster today? I haven't torn out any diplomats' hearts. Yet."

Nate closed his eyes.

"I said no conversation."

"But you didn't say anything about teasing."

That earned Jake the slightest twitch of Nate's mouth. Not quite a smile. Not yet.

"Just behave," Nate said, voice quieter now. "I don't need more rumors."

Jake's grin was feral. "Oh, but Your Majesty… rumors are so much more fun than facts."

Nate didn't reply. But he didn't command silence again either.

---

As the carriage rolled toward Kareth, Nate leaned his head back against the cushioned seat, eyes half-lidded.

And beside him, Jake rested in the corner—smirking, quiet, present.

Not gone.

Not forgiven.

But—for now—trusted.

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