Page 32 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

We set off once more, following the trail across rocky plains. My skin prickles with new awareness, the wind’s touch sharper than before. Every so often, I glance at Daeva, and he catches my eye, lips tightening in a private acknowledgement of our secret. Each time, warmth pools low in my belly, mingling with guilt.

The hours pass in a grim march. The sun climbs high, baking the stones underfoot, then begins its slow descent. We spot occasional fragments of old roads—weathered cobblestones peeking through the dirt—and once, a battered signpost with no readable letters. By midday, Jenna nearly collapses from fatigue, forcing us to slow even more.

I fall into step with her and Ryn, offering an arm when she wobbles. She tries to smile. “I’m okay, really,” she protests, sweat beading her brow. “Just… a little tired.”

I brush damp hair from her face. “We’ll rest soon.” My voice catches. She’s alive because of me, but at what cost? The contract’s shadow hovers at the edge of my thoughts, a constant reminder that my soul is no longer my own.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jenna whispers, eyes flicking behind us. I suspect she notices how I keep glancing at Daeva.

Forcing a nod, I feign confidence. “Yeah. Tired. That’s all.”

Eventually, the sun sinks toward the horizon, painting the sky in bruised oranges and purples. Just as twilight creeps across the land, we crest a small rise and glimpse, in the distance, a scattering of structures—wooden fences, low huts, and the faint glow of torches. My heart leaps. Civilization. Humans, presumably. We might find a roof, real food, medicine for Jenna.

Cole grins, though exhaustion lines his face. “Look!” he exclaims, pointing. “That must be the outpost.”

Silas squints. “We have a few hours of light left. Let’s push forward.”

Jenna gives a shaky laugh. “Beds. Maybe even soup.”

We press on, determination renewed. Daeva remains quiet at my side, and I sense his wariness.He’s not used to approaching human settlements.I recall what Amalia said: some humans might be wary of a demon. But we have no choice if we want refuge.

Near sundown, we reach the outskirts—a rough palisade of sharpened logs marking the boundary. A pair of watchmen, clad in dusty leather, step forward warily, torches held high. They call out, “Halt!” and we oblige, raising our hands to show no threat. Tension spikes, but eventually, they let us in with a warning that the local leader will want to see us. Silas does most of the talking, explaining we’re refugees fleeing dark elves. They don’t press for details, and my heart swells with relief when no one demands too many answers.

Inside, it’s little more than a cluster of wooden huts, a few ramshackle stalls, and a communal fire pit. Still, it’s the closest thing to a town we’ve seen since leaving Vaerathis. People eye us from doorways, curious and cautious. We find a stable where a tired-looking woman named Mira agrees to let us sleep on straw pallets for the night, in exchange for a handful of trinkets we scrounged from the orcs.

I sink onto one such pallet, ignoring the itch of straw beneath my sore body. It’s not a luxurious bed, but it’s better than stone floors or muddy ground. Jenna collapses beside me, relief etched in her features. Silas and Cole speak with Mira about buying simple provisions. Ryn stands guard, scanning for trouble.

Daeva, though, lingers in the corner, half-hidden by shadows. When my gaze meets his, the tether between us pulses, a subtle reminder of the vow sealed by our kiss. My entire body tightens with that recollection—fear and an inexplicable longing swirl like a tempest in my veins.

An uneasy calm settles over the stable, broken only by the snuffling of horses in nearby stalls and the low murmur of theoutpost’s inhabitants outside. I attempt to rest, but my mind thrums too loudly with all that’s changed. The hush of evening drags on, and eventually Silas, Cole, and Ryn drift into an exhausted doze. Jenna is already asleep, face pressed into the crook of her arm.

I glance at Daeva again, heart lurching. In the dim torchlight, his hair glows pale, his angular features highlighted by sharp shadows. The black markings on his arms ripple subtly, as if alive. I rise, compelled by an urge I can’t quell, and approach him.

He regards me with a mix of wariness and warmth, stepping aside so my footfalls don’t disturb the others. “You should sleep,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “We have a long road ahead.”

I chew my lip. “I can’t. There’s too much… swirling in my head.” My heart hammers, recalling how it felt to share that kiss, how power and heat twisted inside me. “This bond… it’s like I can’t stop thinking about you. Is that normal?”

A flicker of guilt passes over his expression. “It’s the contract. Part of your essence is bound to me. You’ll sense my presence… my emotions, perhaps.”

I swallow. “I sense something.” My cheeks burn. “Desire. Fear. I don’t know if it’s mine or yours.”

His eyes darken, tension in his shoulders. “Likely both. Our emotions feed off each other. I’m sorry.”

A strangled laugh catches in my throat. “Don’t apologize for how we feel. This was my choice.”

He lifts a hand, almost touching my cheek, then stops short. I see the question in his gaze—Is it too soon? Too intimate?But the bond tugs at us, drawing me closer until my body almost brushes his. My breath catches in my throat, a tremor of longing rippling through me.

“Calla,” he whispers, voice cracked with vulnerability. “I won’t let this contract destroy you. If there’s a way to free you without harming your friends or me… I’ll find it.”

I rest my palm against his chest, sensing the steady beat of his heart. Heat floods my face. “Thank you,” I manage. “But until then… we’re bound. I’ll live with that.”I’ll live with it, no matter how it changes me,I add silently, a flutter of excitement stirring beneath the dread.

His eyes slide shut for a moment, as though waging an internal battle. Then he exhales, and his free hand lifts to cradle my jaw gently. The tether between us intensifies, humming with unspoken tension. I know we’re in a stable, that my friends lie just feet away, but the rest of the world feels far removed.

“Get some rest,” he repeats, voice softer now. “We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”

I nod, heart pounding. Our gazes lock one last time. An unspoken promise passes between us:We’ll face whatever comes, together.Despite the terror of surrendering my soul, I’ve never felt so alive. My blood churns with the memory of our shared kiss, the rush of demonic magic pulsing inside me.

Slowly, I step back, my hand slipping from his chest. He watches me with that same quiet intensity until I settle onto the straw pallet. Closing my eyes, I let exhaustion drag me down, even as the bond thrums beneath my skin. I sense Daeva’s presence lingering across the stable, standing sentinel in the half-light.

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