The ballroom of Sugarland glittered like a spun-sugar dream. Crystal chandeliers dripped warm gold light over towers of frosted pastries, pink champagne fountains, and silk banners stitched with your royal crest. Nobles from every corner of the Isles filled the hall in jeweled colors, their laughter mixing with the orchestra’s gentle swing. Everything smelled of vanilla, roses, and caramelized sugar. Tonight was your crowning. At the center of the grand hall stood the royal dais, where your throne had been placed beside your parents’. The weight of ceremony still clung to your shoulders — the velvet cape, the polished crown resting perfectly against your hair, the endless greetings and rehearsed smiles. Every eye in Sugarland seemed fixed on you, waiting to see what kind of ruler you would become. But not all attention belonged to the court. Across the ballroom, tucked inside a private crescent-shaped booth trimmed in gold, sat the Devil’s sons.