The Incubus System Chapter 1533. King and Queen II

The Incubus System Chapter 1533. King and Queen II

Lord Damon and Lilieth’s PoV

Lilieth did not answer immediately.

The silence was enough.

Then she said, “You can’t. A realm throne cannot be empty. One of you still has to be here.”

Damon’s fingers dug deeper into the railing. “I know.”

Her gaze softened, but she didn’t retreat from the truth. She never did. That was one of the reasons he loved her, and also one of the reasons she annoyed him beyond sanity.

“We still have Zatan and Beel’s loyalists,” she said. “Few. Hidden. Cowardly, but not gone. If both you and Damian leave at the same time, they might crawl out from whatever hole they buried themselves in and try something stupid.”

Damon knew she was right.

That made it worse.

He wanted her to be wrong. Wanted an excuse to spread his wings, tear open a path, and stand beside Damian when he crossed into that shining nest of hypocrisy. Wanted to look Aurelion in the eyes and ask him what kind of ancient king needed to throw knives at a young man just to feel safe.

But he could not.

Not yet.

Damon released the railing before he broke more of it.

The cracked stone remained beneath his fingers like proof of restraint.

“I hate it,” he said.

Lilieth stepped closer. “I know.”

“No.” His voice lowered. “You know I dislike it. You do not know how much I hate it.”

She came to stand beside him then, her dark gown moving around her legs like liquid night. Lust City’s lights painted her skin in red and gold, catching on her lips, her throat, the sharp elegance of her eyes.

She looked like sin given royal posture.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

His.

And still, even with her beside him, Damon’s anger did not ease.

“It keeps happening,” he said. “Again and again. They wound him with accusations, then call him dangerous when he bleeds sharp.”

Lilieth’s gaze moved down to Damian.

Below, their son stood with that cold smile on his face.

Not Ethan’s smile.

Not the tired, playful, ridiculous boy who complained about responsibility.

That was Damian.

The prince.

The monster Heaven kept asking for.

“First humans,” Damon continued. “They looked at him like a beast even when he protected them. Then the Demon Hunter Association. Then angels. Then the Light King. Everyone wants to decide what he is before he opens his mouth.”

Lilieth’s expression darkened. “Humans fear what saves them if it has claws.”

“And angels fear what carries light if it also carries darkness.”

“Demons are simpler,” she said dryly. “We fear ourselves.”

Despite himself, Damon’s mouth twitched.

Barely.

Lilieth saw it.

A small victory.

Then the moment passed, and Damon’s eyes returned to the gate.

“Lilieth.”

“Yes?”

“What do you think about the war?”

Her expression changed.

He did not say a war.

He said the war.

Between Light and Dark.

The kind of conflict that did not end with borders shifting or kings bruising their egos. It ended with dead cities, broken bloodlines, corrupted temples, burned demon nests, and children inheriting hatred like family jewelry.

Lilieth looked out over Lust City.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I never knew the Light.”

Damon turned his head slightly toward her.

She continued, “I know what we were told. That they are arrogant. Cruel in clean ways. Cold. Beautiful. Hypocritical. I know what our soldiers say. I know what old books say. I know what demons whisper when drunk enough to sound honest.”

Her lips curved faintly.

“But I do not know them.”

Damon was silent.

Lilieth looked at him. “You do.”

“Not enough.”

“More than me.”

Damon exhaled slowly. “Aurelion is older than me. His age is the same as my late father’s.”

That thought had always bothered him.

Not because age meant wisdom. The realms had enough ancient idiots to prove otherwise. But still, there was something bitter about it.

Aurelion belonged to the generation before Damon.

He had seen wars Damon had only inherited.

He had watched the old balance shift. Had lived through Gabrielle, Xenos, Erebus, the sealed borders, the wounds of history that everyone still pretended were holy doctrine or demonic pride.

A king that old should have been careful.

Should have known better.

Lilieth smirked. “His actions don’t show it.”

Damon turned to her.

She folded her arms under her chest, eyes glinting.

“What?” she said. “You said he is old. I said he behaves like a jealous boy with a throne too large for his emotional capacity.”

Damon stared.

Then a laugh escaped him.

Short.

Dark.

But real.

Lilieth smiled, pleased. “There,” she murmured. “You are still alive.”

“I am furious.”

“You can be both.”

“I want to kill him. I want to tear his realm open, walk through his city, and show him exactly what happens when he points blades at my son.”

Lilieth’s smile softened into something more dangerous. “Romantic.”

Damon gave her a look.

She shrugged. “What? Protective violence is one of your better qualities.”

“Only one?”

“You also have good shoulders.”

His brows lifted. “In the middle of potential war?”

“If I cannot appreciate my husband’s shoulders during political collapse, then what is marriage for?”

Damon stared at her.

Then shook his head faintly.

Lilieth stepped closer until her arm brushed his. Her warmth was subtle, familiar, grounding. Below, Damian still spoke with Leon and Licheri. Above, the night stretched open, full of stars that had watched too many kings ruin too many sons.

Lilieth’s voice lowered. “Damon.”

He didn’t answer, but his attention shifted to her.

“If you go with him, who protects what he leaves behind?”

His jaw tightened.

She placed her hand over his.

Not soft.

Firm.

Queen to king.

Wife to husband.

Mother to father.

“Damian will go because he must. You will stay because he must have something to return to.”

Damon closed his eyes.

It was the truth he hated most.

He could protect Damian by standing beside him.

Or he could protect Damian by guarding the home behind him.

Both were love.

One just felt more like helplessness.