Page 8 of Demon Daddy's Nanny

"Magic doesn't fail in my home."

"Everything fails eventually." She says it matter-of-factly, no challenge in her tone. Just certainty born of experience. "Even the grandest things break down if not properly maintained."

Something about her words strikes too close to home. I turn away, continuing down the hall. "You speak from experience?"

"The bakery's enchanted ovens break down twice a year. I've learned to repair them myself rather than wait for a mage."

The admission surprises me. Most humans avoid touching magical items, fear bred into them from generations of warnings. But then, nothing about Eva fits my expectations of humans.

We reach Annalise's chambers, and I pause before knocking. Eva stands beside me, her hands clasped in front of her apron.She's changed into a clean dress, but missed a spot of flour behind her ear. The urge to brush it away gnaws at me.

I rap twice on the door. No response.

"Annalise." My voice carries the edge of command. "Open the door."

"Go away." The words are muffled, sullen.

Eva steps forward before I can respond. "I brought those honey-filled pastries you liked yesterday."

The door cracks open. Annalise's silver eyes peer out, narrowing when they land on me. But they brighten at the sight of Eva, and the door swings wide.

"You remembered?" Annalise's wings flutter - a tell she's trying to suppress her excitement. The golden feathers catch the light, so like my own it makes my chest ache.

"Of course." Eva produces a small wrapped package from her bag. "Though I added a bit more cinnamon this time."

Annalise snatches the package and retreats to her window seat, legs folded beneath her. The sullen mask she usually wears in my presence melts away as Eva follows her inside.

"Why aren’t you at the bakery?” Annalise asks between bites. Flakes of pastry dust her lap. "Don’t they need you to run the ovens?"

Eva perches beside her, smoothing her skirts. "I finished my morning shift. And there are others that can work the ovens. Though sometimes they have minds of their own. Last week, one decided all the bread should be purple."

Annalise laughs - a sound I haven't heard in weeks. "Purple bread? Did anyone buy it?"

"The children loved it. Their parents, not so much."

I lean against the doorframe, watching as my daughter peppers Eva with questions. Each answer draws Annalise further out of her shell. Eva meets her curiosity with patience, never dismissing her questions as childish or beneath notice.

When was the last time someone spoke to Annalise like this? Like she matters beyond her bloodline and status?

Eva catches my eye over Annalise's head. Something passes between us - an understanding, perhaps. Or a challenge. She sees what I've missed, what I've let slip away while buried in duties and old grief.

I follow them to the courtyard, maintaining enough distance that Annalise won't notice my presence. The afternoon sun catches Eva's hair, turning the chestnut strands to liquid copper as she helps my daughter tend to the withering garden. My wings twitch with each of Annalise's laughs - sounds I haven't heard in years.

Eva kneels in the dirt, heedless of her dress, showing Annalise how to check the soil. Her fingers dig into the earth with practiced ease while explaining something about root systems. Annalise leans in close, her golden wings spread wide for balance as she mimics Eva's movements.

The sight stirs something in my chest. When was the last time I taught Annalise anything? When did I stop being her father and become just another authority figure she rebels against?

They move through the courtyard methodically, Eva pointing out signs of magical interference in the plants' growth. My daughter soaks up every word, asking questions I should have answered years ago. The garden was Sera's pride - I let it decay after her death, another failure to add to my growing list.

The sun dips low, casting long shadows across the flagstones. Eva brushes dirt from her skirts and guides Annalise toward the house. She pauses at the entrance, touching my daughter's shoulder. "Go wash up for dinner. I'll be right behind you."

Once Annalise disappears inside, Eva turns to face me. I expect her to startle at finding me so close, but she meets my gaze without flinching.

"You should be the one talking to her like this." Her voice carries no judgment, just quiet certainty. The words slice through my carefully constructed walls. "She needs her father, not just another authority figure."

I draw myself up, wings spreading. Most humans would cower at the display of dominance. Eva just watches me, those amber eyes seeing too much.

The guilt coils in my stomach, hot and heavy. I push it down, ignoring the truth in her words. "You overstep, human." The words taste bitter on my tongue.

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