BOUND TO HER WILL

The first thing Reina felt was pain.

Her head throbbed with every jolt of the wagon, each bump in the road sending fresh waves of agony through her skull. Her wrists burned-rope, she realized dimly, rough hemp cutting into her skin. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and fear, and somewhere close by, a girl was crying.

Reina forced her eyes open.

Darkness. No-not complete darkness. Slivers of harsh sunlight cut through gaps in the wagon's wooden slats, illuminating the faces of perhaps a dozen other girls, all huddled together like frightened animals. Some sobbed quietly. Others stared at nothing, their eyes hollow and distant.

Where am I?

The question formed slowly through the fog in her mind, and with it came a creeping sense of dread.

She remembered.

The memory slammed into her like a physical blow-the sound of screaming, the acrid smell of smoke, the clash of steel on steel. Her kingdom. Her home. Burning.

They had come at dawn.

Reina had been in the gardens, as far from her father and brothers as she could manage, when the first screams reached her. By the time she ran back to the palace, it was already too late.

The demons had come.

That's what the servants called them, in the whispered stories they thought the nobles couldn't hear. Demons from the realms beyond the mountains, beautiful as fallen angels and twice as deadly. Reina had thought they were just stories.

She'd been wrong.

They moved through the palace like death itself-men, if they could be called that, with impossibly perfect features and eyes that burned like coals. Their hair fell in dark waves past their shoulders, and they cut through her father's guards as easily as a scythe through wheat.

She'd hidden in an alcove, frozen with terror, and watched a demon warrior drive his blade through her father's chest.

She should have felt something. Grief. Horror. Rage.

Instead, she felt nothing. Her father had never been kind. Never been loving. He'd been preparing to sell her off to some foreign lord like a prize mare, and she'd hated him for it.

But her mother-

"Reina!" Her mother's scream cut through the chaos, raw and desperate.

Reina had tried to run to her, but rough hands seized her from behind. She'd fought-clawed and kicked and bit-but it was useless. Something hard connected with her skull, and the world had tilted sideways.

Then: nothing.

Until now.

"Water," someone croaked nearby. "Please... water..."

Reina turned her head-too quickly; fresh pain exploded behind her eyes-and found herself looking at a girl no older than fifteen, her face streaked with tears and grime.

"There isn't any," Reina said, her voice rough from disuse. "Save your strength."

The girl's eyes widened in recognition. "Your Highness-"

"Don't." Reina cut her off with a sharp gesture. "That doesn't matter anymore."

But the word had already spread. Around her, girls were lifting their heads, staring at her with a mixture of hope and despair. They wanted her to fix this. To save them.

She couldn't even save herself.

"Where are they taking us?" someone whispered.

Reina didn't answer. She didn't know. But she could guess: slavery, if they were lucky. Something worse, if they weren't.

She pressed her face to one of the gaps in the wooden slats, squinting against the harsh light. Through the narrow opening, she could see nothing but endless desert-red sand stretching to the horizon under a sun that beat down like a hammer.

They were far from home. Far from anything she'd ever known.

And then, in the distance, she saw it.

A gate.

But calling it a gate was like calling the ocean a puddle.

It rose from the desert floor like a monument to some forgotten god-a massive arch of black stone that seemed to drink in the sunlight rather than reflect it. Strange symbols covered its surface, glowing faintly with an inner fire that pulsed like a heartbeat.

The wagon rolled to a stop.

Around her, the girls began to scream.

"No! No, please-"

"I don't want to die-"

"Somebody help us!"

Reina's fingers dug into the wooden floor of the wagon, her nails splintering against the rough grain. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced herself to breathe slowly, evenly.

Panic wouldn't help. Panic would only make this worse.

The gate began to open.

It made no sound-that was somehow worse than if it had groaned or shrieked. It simply... parted, the black stone sliding aside to reveal what lay beyond.

Heat rolled out in waves, washing over them like the breath of some enormous furnace. Through the opening, Reina could see a landscape that belonged in nightmares: jagged mountains of volcanic rock, rivers of something that glowed like molten gold, and in the distance, a palace that seemed carved from darkness itself.

The demon realm.

It was real. All of it was real.

"Move!" A harsh voice barked, and the wagon lurched forward.

They crossed the threshold.

The moment they passed through the gate, Reina felt it-a change in the air, in the very fabric of reality. The heat intensified, pressing down on her like a physical weight. The light took on a reddish tinge, as if the sun itself had been replaced by something older and angrier.

This was not her world anymore.

The wagon stopped in a courtyard paved with black stone that reflected the sky like dark water. All around them, demons moved with predatory grace-soldiers in armor that seemed forged from shadow, servants in flowing robes, creatures that were beautiful and terrible in equal measure.

The wagon's door slammed open.

"Out! All of you, out!"

Rough hands grabbed Reina, yanking her forward. She stumbled, her legs numb from hours of confinement, and hit the ground hard. Pain shot through her knees, but she bit back the cry that rose in her throat.