I stared at the canopy above my bed, finally taking a bit more time to appreciate the fine patterns carved into it. I half-expected Lord Rannon to be sitting in the same seat watching me as he did the day before, but, of course, he wasn’t.

It was bright outside, though I couldn’t see the sun. Another odd detail was the birds; they sounded different here. I was used to the tweets and whistles the birds around the Ickmann’s used to make. In Rannon’s estate, the tweets were more like screeches, and the whistles were more like a soft hum.

I heard a voice behind the door, high-pitched and soft, different from Angeline’s low and monotone. “Lady Vivian, are you awake?”

“Yes,” I called from my perch at the window.

The door peeled open, revealing a young maid. Her dress was markedly shorter than Angeline, her skin tawny and her hair a dark blonde. She curtsied, fixing her glasses before it fell. “My name is Morian. I will be serving you from now on.”

“Where’s Angeline?”

“Oh, um,” she scampered inside, “Angeline has returned to her post serving Lord Rannon. I have been briefed on your tastes.”

“Hmm…” She got tired of me pretty quickly. Or, I guess it was temporary anyway.  “Well, is Lord Rannon here today?”

“Yes, he is waiting in the Breakfast Room.”

“Alrighty then.” I’m gonna grill his ass. With all that he dropped on me yesterday, he better be ready, I thought. My resolve was strong, but my body betrayed me. I followed Morian through the halls with a steady, pounding heartbeat that matched our footsteps; the path we took looked unfamiliar, but I chocked it up to my newness and nerves. The shimmering pale light of midmorning glowed from the windows. It almost felt like a dream, which I would not have been surprised by.

There were more maids and butlers scurrying through the halls that day, and I could feel their eyes on me. I had gotten enough side eyes in Bertholda’s startup, so I could tell what disdain felt like, a stinging heat down your back, glares in your peripheral, a stage with a thousand eyes as your audience. This didn’t feel quite like that. Curiosity, maybe? Or even resentment?

As we stepped into the breakfast parlor, my eyes fell upon Lord Rannon immediately. He seemed as calm and pristine as the day before, teacup in one hand, a book in the other. His flowing silver hair was as graceful as he himself was. But, I caught onto a surprise next: Angeline was standing beside him in a butler’s garb, her features as placid as ever.

“Did you sleep well?” He said, his gaze finally rising to meet mine.

I almost wanted to cuss him out right then and there, but I held my tongue. That bed was really comfy. “Yeah, I did.” I plopped down on the chaise and grabbed a fistful of macarons from the turntable.

“I imagine you have a lot of questions for me. I can’t promise that I’ll answer them all, but I’ll try to ease your concerns,” He exchanged a glance with Angeline. She nodded and left with Morian just a few moments later. I guess she really is his assistant?

“So, I can just ask away then?”

“Please do.”

I sucked in a breath. “Okay, first of all, where are we?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ok, then, can I get my stuff from my apartment at least?”

“I can send someone to retrieve it for you.”

“Tch,” I scoffed. Yeah, why don’t you just say I’m trapped here? “Fine. What about this prophecy you mentioned? Why do we have to get married or whatever?”

He laid down his teacup and tapped the saucer with a soft “clink!” “The Arch Oracle made--”

“Wait, hold on! Hold on.” I raised my hand. “Who the fuck is that?”

He cut his eyes at me. “The Arch Oracle is a highly respected figure in our…community.”

The realization dawned on me… No internet or phones, weird phrases and hierarchies, everything! Oh my god…oh my god, no way! Am I in a fucking cult?!  Suddenly, every detail seemed to click together in my mind. This had to be a cult. Was I abducted or something? Why me? Why did I actually believe him?!

“Your face is doing something weird. Are you listening to me?” He said, waving a hand in front of my eyes.

I blinked back into focus. “Right, could you repeat that?”

“Nearly 10 years ago, the Arch Oracle prophesied that the one who marries a woman they met on her worst day will become the next Demon King.”

“That’s like ridiculously vague.”

“Prophesies usually are.”

“And I fit that bill? The woman on her worst day?”

“Yes, well, I met you on the day you were hit by a truck and almost died. You meet the basic requirements, but we’ll have to check with the oracle at the next summit.”

I breathed out a heavy sigh, “Haaaa, wow…When’s the summit?”

“3 days from now.”

“Right…and if she says I’m the one, we get married, you become the ‘Demon King,’ yadda yadda blah blah blah the rest is history?”

“Basically, yes.”

“And what happens to me after you get that title?”

“You’ll remain as my wife. Per tradition, I may have to take on additional spouses for the sake of alliances.”

“And what happens if I say no?”

“I’m sorry?” He eyed me carefully, his silver irises boring into my soul, as if he was preparing for me to say some nonsense.

“What is going to happen to me if I don’t want to marry you? If I reject you?”

“Ha!” He laughed out loud, the pages of the book in his hand jostling with him. “You didn’t seem to mind my looks or my amenities before,” he gestured around the room, “why the change?”

Obviously because this is a fucking cult, but I can’t very well say that. “It’s not that—I just…” I paused to think up some bullshit. “I want to get married to someone I love.”

“I suggest you weigh your options, Lady Vivian. Certainly, you could go back, but…do you really think there’s a place for you there?”

I could feel my lips twist into a grimace. I couldn’t even be mad properly because he was right. “You don’t want to try to convince me or anything? I thought you would at least court me,” I laughed. Whatever I was feeling, I couldn’t let on.

“If that is what you desire, I’ll happily oblige.” A smirk graced his lips.

For a moment, the thought crossed my mind, though I’m ashamed to admit it, that being in a cult might not be such a bad idea.

“We’ll discuss this further later,” he rose from his seat, “In the meantime, enjoy yourself.”

“Are you going to be here tomorrow?”

“Hm? Miss me already?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just have more questions.”

“Tomorrow then. We’ll meet again.”

Yeah, I gotta get the fuck outta here.