C22 CHAPTER22

The following morning, Devon was roused from his slumber by a persistent knock at the door.

Before he could utter another word, a gentle tapping sounded again. "Who's there?" he called out.

"It's me, Sia," came the reply from the other side.

"What do you need?" Devon inquired.

"Master, I've been sent to fetch you. Someone is waiting for you in the garden," Sia informed him.

"Really? Who might that be?" Devon pondered aloud, curious about his unexpected guest.

"The Flame Devil awaits you, Master," she said, eyes downcast.

"The Flame Devil? For what reason?" he pressed.

"I'm not sure, Master," Sia admitted before turning to leave.

"Tell him I'll be there shortly," Devon directed.

"Yes, Master," Sia acknowledged and exited.

Once she was gone, Devon and Hector exchanged a long, bewildered look.

"Master, what could the Flame Devil possibly want? Why does he wish to meet with you?" Hector inquired.

"How should I know, Hector? It's not like I've been briefed," Devon snapped, his patience wearing thin these days.

"My apologies, Master," Hector quickly said.

"I'm going to see what Blake is after," Devon declared, rising from his bed. He grabbed a towel and retreated to the bathroom to splash water on his face. As he dried off and met his own gaze in the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes were a testament to his restless nights. With a deep sigh, he left the bathroom and found Hector still lingering by the door.

"Hector, why are you still here?" he asked.

"Master, I wish to accompany you to the garden to meet the Flame Devil," Hector stated.

Initially, Devon was inclined to refuse, but he reconsidered, seeing no harm in it.

"Alright," he consented, and they departed together. A different maid led them through the corridors toward the garden. Devon caught her glancing at him in a way that left little to the imagination, her thoughts clearly straying into inappropriate territory.

Disgusted, Devon rolled his eyes, his expression turning stern. He had no intention of fraternizing with these so-called Zombie maids. In fact, he found them utterly repulsive. Even if this one were the last on earth, he wouldn't give her a second glance.

"Master, the garden is this way. I'll take my leave now," the zombie maid said, her smile unwavering.

Devon barely acknowledged her, striding purposefully toward the garden, Hector keeping pace at his heels. The moment he laid eyes on the figure standing with his back to him among the greenery, he recognized Flame Devil Blake. Blake stood with his back to Devon, flanked by a trio of guards.

"Blake," Devon managed to utter.

Gradually, Blake turned around, and the guards turned with him. "Third Prince!" he greeted, his smile broad and his eyes sparkling with an indiscernible gleam.

Devon's gaze swept over Blake's face before being drawn to the large, cloth-draped object before him. It seemed rectangular, but the covering obscured its true form.

Could it be a box?

Devon shifted his focus back to Blake, observing in silence. He noticed Blake's hands trembling. Was it nerves?

Without warning, Blake's hands ignited, flames enveloping them. He remained unfazed; as the Flame Devil, fire posed no threat. Seconds later, embers began to fall from his hands onto the dandelions below. Any normal plant would have perished, but these remained unscathed, sustained by Devil Energy—just like everything else in the Devil Clan.

Yet, Devon felt uneasy about the falling embers. "You need to get a grip on those flames," he instructed.

"Third Prince," Blake responded, still smiling, "there's no need for concern about a fire; I'm always cautious."

Devon rolled his eyes. "What brings you here, Blake?" he inquired, closing the distance between them.

"I've come to discuss the humans you're holding in the dungeon," Blake replied, lowering his gaze, clearly avoiding eye contact.

A lump formed in Devon's throat. Had Blake discovered his secret visit? "What about them?" he pressed.

"I fear something untoward is afoot, Third Prince. Those humans are concealing something," Blake declared, his brow creased with concern.

Devon's mind raced. Had his disguise been compromised? What in the world had transpired in that dungeon?

"What's happening? Can you fill me in?" Devon inquired.

"I was just heading down to the dungeon to check on them when I overheard an argument. It seemed like they were plotting a rebellion," Blake recounted.

Devon exhaled sharply, his breath escaping in a rush. Bracing himself, he pressed, "What exactly did you overhear?"

With a rueful shake of his head, Blake admitted, "It's tough to grasp their language, so I didn't catch the exact words. But the tone was unmistakably unified. I thought it best to alert you to the situation before it escalated."

A wave of relief washed over Devon, though he kept his composure intact.

That was a narrow escape.