WHEN SHE WAS A CHILD, THE DEVIL WHISPERED IN HER EAR. He told Valencia the truths of her life. He's honest, she used to think. She never asked him for more than what he gave. She never questioned why he chose her — even though she always wondered. But he always told her that she had his blessing and with his blessing she must do good things. 

Their first good act was to kill a mouse that lived under the floorboards of her family's house. They lived in a village on the outskirts of a satellite state part of the Lehuan empire; they were poor, underfed and dwelled in a tiny home in which generations of her paternal family lived and died. The mouse sometimes came out at night to search for food. Valencia had noticed its shadow race across the floor on occasion, but never thought much of it. At times, she felt the mice were nicer to her than the people around her.

Catch it, the devil urged her one night.

At first, Valencia thought that was impossible: the mouse was too fast. She didn't catch it that night. The next night, when she saw the mouse scurry along, the devil said the same thing again, catch it.

Valencia's younger brothers and sisters were outside. Her father was away. She had a plan.

She found an empty glass jar — one that should be filled with grains — and placed half a grape inside it. She strategically laid the glass on the floor, praying to her devil that the mouse would fall for the bait.

Of course, it did.

Valencia scooped up the jar and pulled the mouse out. Its beady, black eyes stared at her as it squirmed to escape her grasp. She hated how the mouse felt hairy in her hand. She hated the feeling of its tail slapping against the tan skin of her arms.

Good, the devil said, now snap its neck.

A soft gasp slipped from between her pink lips, like how she could let the mouse slip away from her hands. Could she kill this animal, the one she often thought of as friendly?

Kill it, his ominous voice echoed in the room and in her mind. He taunted her with shameful words until her teeth clenched and her hands tightened around the mouse. The mouse's last squeal silenced. It slumped dead in her hand.

With her heart racing and her hands shaking, Valencia dropped the limp carcass. It thumped when it hit the floorboard below.

The devil laughed brazenly in her ear. In a chilling murmur that tickled her ear, he said, This is why I chose you.

•   •   •

VALENCIA OFTEN REMEMBERED THE MOUSE. How it was weak and how it deserved better, but wasn't going to get better in that life. How she deserved better. As she aged and became a new person with her devil by her side, Valencia climbed the political ladder. He guided her in what to do and how to be the best.

She silently thanked him for making her fulfill that first good deed — killing the mouse — before she ate her dinner. It was because of her devil that she was able to sit at the head of a dining table in the Lehuan palace.

"Empress," her advisor, Ronan, called for Valencia's attention. "There was an unfortunate incident in Vanity, a nearby town. Lord Howell's house was burned down. It's being investigated, but Lord Howell insists his daughter accidently toppled a candle."

"A whole house burned to nothing because of a candle?" another advisor commented.

Ronan nodded, his wispy light brown hair falling to his viridian eyes. Valencia noted that Ronan needed a haircut and that her other advisor had every right to be skeptical.

"Tell Lord Howell that he has my help if needed," Valencia said, putting aside her distaste for the lord.

Her devil hummed in agreement.

Valencia sunk her gold fork into a chunk of meat, lifted it to her lips, and inhaled its savory scent as she popped it into her mouth. It smelled of smokey flavors and pepper. It tasted like the food she longed of having when she was younger and poorer.

"Satisfying meal?" Ronan teased.

Valencia offered him a smile and a nod. She liked Ronan's friendship. He understood the way she tended to distance herself from others. He teased her and made her laugh when she really needed it. Sometimes Valencia wished Ronan could meet her devil — he's the only person she'd ever want him to meet — but her devil always refused. I'm only yours, he would say.

At the end of their dinner, Ronan gave a toast. He held up his champange flute and spoke, "This toast is for our beloved Valencia Lenard being the empress of Lehua for three weeks. For being such a damn good team that our citizens love her more. For being lucky enough that the old emperor hasn't come after us. And even if he did, we'd be the cat in his game of cat and mouse."

"Cheers to that," Valencia said and sipped her champange, along with the rest of her advisory board.

The board chuckled and talked about how the emperor that had abdicated would never be able to steal Valencia's crown. She was a true empress, nothing like he had been.

After her other advisors left, Ronan asked the empress a daring a question, "Why can't you sleep at night?"

Valencia eyed him with confusion.

"How could you think I wouldn't find out?"

Sometimes her devil kept her awake. He played silly games with her or asked her for favors. Other times it was the nightmares. Her past haunted her in her sleep.

"Nightmares," she answered, telling him part of the truth.

She couldn't tell him about the devil that spoke to her. She had never told him about her past either.

"Well," Ronan offered, swiping away the hair from his face, "it might help if you talk about them."

Valencia widened her eyes.

"It might help if you got a haircut," she joked.

Ronan snorted. "You must really not want to talk about it if you're joking around. Just think about it. And I'm getting a haircut tomorrow!"

Valencia smiled, thinking that maybe talking about her dreams wasn't a terrible idea after all.

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edited by CannibalisticNecro