Page 12 of Demon Daddy's Nanny

Through the ornate windows of my study, their laughter drifts up like wind chimes, foreign and startling. I pause mid-signature, the quill hovering over another endless stack of reports. The sound comes again - Annalise's bright peal mixing with Eva's lower, warmer tones.

My wings twitch with unease. When was the last time I heard my daughter laugh like that? Not the sharp, sarcastic bark she uses to deflect conversation, but genuine mirth?

I rise from my desk, drawn to the window overlooking the palace gardens. The afternoon sun gilds everything in warm light, catching on the fountain's spray and the delicate petals of blood roses. Eva and Annalise sit on the grass, their heads bent close together. Eva's chestnut hair has escaped its usual tight knot, falling in wisps around her face as she demonstrates something with her hands - probably another baking technique. My daughter watches with rapt attention, her platinum hair a stark contrast to Eva's darker coloring.

"No, like this-" Eva's voice carries up. "You have to fold it gently or the air bubbles will collapse."

"Oh! I see now." Annalise mimics the motion, then dissolves into giggles when whatever she's holding apparently goes wrong. "I'm hopeless at this."

"You're not hopeless. You just need practice."

The easy affection in Eva's voice makes something in my chest constrict. She speaks to Annalise the way I should have all these years - with patience, with warmth. Instead, I've kept my distance, buried myself in work and responsibility until my own daughter became a stranger.

My fingers press against the cool glass. The scar on my cheek tingles - a phantom reminder of old battles, old losses. Seeing them together like this... it sets my teeth on edge. Not because I disapprove, but because it forces me to face my own failures. Eva has managed in weeks what I couldn't accomplish in years.

I turn away from the window, their continued laughter following me back to my desk like an accusation. I’m not even sure when I consciously decide to, but I leave my study, heading down to the garden’s doors. But as I approach, I overhear their conversation and freeze.

"Maybe your father cares more than you think." Eva's voice drifts through, gentle but firm.

My chest tightens. The muscles in my wings lock, every feather rigid.

"Right." Annalise's tone drips with familiar venom. "That's why he barely looks at me anymore."

"Have you considered he might not know how?" Eva's words hit like a blade between my ribs. "Sometimes people get stuck in patterns they don't know how to break."

Fabric rustles - probably Annalise shifting position. I should walk away. This isn't a conversation I have any right to hear, but my feet remain rooted.

"He used to be different," Annalise says, her voice smaller now. "Before Mom died. He'd smile sometimes. Now it's just... orders and expectations and disappointment."

"Disappointment?" Eva asks.

"Please. Look at me. I'm nothing like what a xaphan noble's daughter should be. Can't even manage basic combat forms without tripping over my own feet."

"That's not-"

"You don't have to defend him." Annalise cuts her off. "He made his choice a long time ago. Work comes first. Always has."

My fingers curl against the door. She's right - I did make that choice. After Sera died, I threw myself into duty because it was easier than facing my grief, easier than looking at our daughter and seeing her mother's eyes staring back at me.

"People can change," Eva says softly. "If you give them the chance."

The silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush bone. I wait for Annalise's response, barely breathing, my wings trembling with the effort of staying still.

"Maybe," Annalise finally whispers. "But I'm tired of hoping for something that's never going to happen."

The words slice through me, each syllable drawing blood. My wings curl forward instinctively, a shield against truths I don't want to hear. The garden door's brass handle bites into my palm, grounding me in this moment I never meant to witness.

Memories flash - every time I've barked orders at her, every cold dismissal, every disappointed glance when she failed to meet the impossible standards I set. Standards meant to protect her, to make her strong enough to survive in this cruel world. But all she's seen is rejection.

My chest burns, a familiar ache spreading beneath my ribs. The scar on my cheek throbs in time with my pulse. I've becomeexactly what I swore I wouldn't - a shadow of my own father, ruling through fear and duty rather than love.

Eva murmurs something too low for me to catch. Fabric rustles against grass. I should leave, should return to my reports and pretend I never heard this conversation. But my feet won't move. The truth has me pinned like a butterfly under glass.

"At least when I mess up, he looks at me," Annalise continues, her voice cracking. "Even if it's just to tell me what a disappointment I am. Better than being invisible, right?"

The words hit harder than any blade I've ever taken in battle. My wings shudder, golden feathers catching the light as they tremble. Is that what she thinks? That I have to be angry to see her?

I press my forehead against the cool wood of the door. Every muscle in my body screams to burst through, to gather her in my arms like I did when she was small. To tell her she's never been invisible, that every time I look at her I see Sera's grace, her strength, her fierce spirit.

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