Page 33 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

Before I plunge into a restless dream, I think of Amalia’s gentle smile, of Dirroth’s bestial power tempered by her hand, and of the horrors we’ve left behind. The road ahead is uncertain—dark elves, orcs, or more monstrous things may yet stalk us—but for the first time, I feel a spark of power in my veins. I’m no longer a helpless slave. I have a demon’s strength behind me… and within me.

In the hush of the outpost night, I press my palm against the spot over my racing heart, acutely aware that it doesn’t beat for me alone anymore. The contract’s seal resonates like an echo, binding my fate to Daeva’s. Whether it becomes a doom or a salvation, I can’t say. But as weariness claims me, my last waking thought is that I no longer face this world alone. And for all the danger and uncertainty, that knowledge warms me in ways I never thought possible.

8

DAEVA

Ilinger in the shadows of the settlement gate, hood pulled low over my brow, cloak draped around me like a funeral shroud. Evening light slants across the dusty courtyard, illuminating only the tips of my boots. The rest of me remains hidden in darkness—a necessary precaution. Though these humans are not as oppressive as the dark elves or as savage as orcs, I know the mark of a demon invites suspicion. If they recognized the tattoos swirling across my arms and the faint aura that clings to me, they’d probably bar me from entering altogether.

But I can’t stand too far away. Calla’s presence tugs at me like an invisible cord, and I can’t let that tether stretch too thin. Because of our bond, I sense her worry, her exhausted relief at having found a scrap of safety. I almost feel her heartbeat in my own chest. My emotions coil tight with a mix of protectiveness and dread, a perpetual undercurrent since we sealed our contract in that stolen kiss.

My gaze sweeps the settlement. It’s little more than a wide clearing surrounded by crude wooden walls. A few huts line the perimeter, each topped with straw roofs. A central area holds a communal fire pit, though no flames crackle there atthe moment. People wander past, eyes flicking curiously toward the cluster of newcomers—my traveling companions—while I remain back in the gloom.

I watch as Silas, Cole, and Ryn negotiate with a local official, a stout man wearing tattered furs, presumably some kind of village leader or head guard. Jenna stands a pace behind them, leaning heavily on Ryn’s arm. Her fever has returned, leaving her face pale and drawn. I resist the impulse to step forward and offer my magic. It would only raise more questions if I revealed my nature now. And we have no currency to speak of, no coins for lodging, so I assume the others must bargain with leftover trinkets or labor.

Calla stands near them, arms crossed around her middle. She glances toward me occasionally, a silent flick of her gaze through the crowd, as if searching to confirm I’m still there. I tug my hood lower in answer, letting the edge of a half-smile curl my lips unseen. Her worry seeps into me, a faint echo. My chest tightens with the knowledge thatIput her in this predicament: bound to a demon, forced to wander the wilds, risking her relationships for a contract I can’t easily break.

The village leader gestures broadly, muttering something about a small house on the outskirts. Silas gives him a curt nod, and a moment later, the group steps back from the conversation. I melt into the folds of my cloak and slink forward just enough to hear their quiet words.

“House on the edge of the settlement,” Silas mutters, his voice laced with relief and a hint of leftover hostility. He runs a hand through his tousled hair. “We can stay there as long as we keep to ourselves and don’t cause trouble. We’ll need to help with menial tasks, maybe gather firewood or hunt if we can find anything.”

Cole nods. “Better than nothing. Jenna can rest.”

Jenna swallows, forcing a small smile. “Thank you.”

Ryn rubs her shoulder. “Let’s get you inside.”

Calla’s eyes drift toward me again, and I sense a faint stirring in my chest: a mixture of gratitude and guilt. I gave them a chance to reach this place alive. But at the same time, Silas’s sideways glare tells me he’d rather I vanish. He doesn’t speak it aloud, not in front of Calla. However, the tension in his posture is unmistakable. He grips the crossbow at his hip like it’s a promise.

They begin walking, heading down a narrow pathway that leads between low huts toward the outskirts. I trail after them, staying half a dozen paces behind, letting the swirl of my dark cloak and the shadows keep my features hidden. The settlement’s residents cast curious, sometimes fearful looks. A man with a scarred face glances at me twice, sniffing as though he smells something off, but he says nothing. Perhaps he simply thinks I’m an unsociable traveler.

Within minutes, we reach a ramshackle house perched at the farthest edge of the village, near where the walls curve inward to meet a rocky slope. The structure is small—two rooms at most—built of uneven planks. A single door stands crooked on leather hinges. It’s hardly a fortress, yet it’s a roof, a place for Jenna to rest.

Once the door opens, the musty scent of stale straw and damp wood greets us. Ryn helps Jenna inside, where she sinks onto a low wooden bench. Cole and Silas begin examining the space: a hearth with no fire, a single table, and missing shutters on the window. Calla stands near the threshold, scanning the interior. The faint flicker of a single lantern reveals dust dancing in the air.

I linger on the doorstep, my hood casting my face in shadow. They’ve no reason to thank me out loud; I contributed nothing to these negotiations. Silas obviously keeps track of that fact, given how he avoids meeting my eyes.

Cole sets down his pack. “We’ll need to fetch water, see if there’s a well or stream. Maybe scrounge for some food tomorrow.”

“We can manage,” Ryn agrees, voice subdued. He eyes Jenna with concern, then crosses to her, checking her brow. “You hanging in there?”

She nods weakly. “Better than this morning,” she whispers.

Silas finally looks at me. His words come out flat. “We’re settled, for now.” A pause, tension radiating off him. “Thank you for… everything.” The gratitude is forced, barely concealing his desire to be rid of me.

I keep my voice low and impassive. “You’re welcome.”

Calla shifts from foot to foot, catching the anxious undercurrent. I can’t blame her for noticing. The bond thrums between us, and I feel her wariness spike. Even after sealing our contract, I haven’t told her everything. There’s my ancient enemy, the one who cursed me centuries ago, still out there. As long as I remain in Protheka, that threat looms. If it finds me, it might findher—the one person who stands to break my isolation. The thought sends cold dread through my veins.

But she’s bound to me now. I need her warmth like a starving man needs bread. In her eyes, I glimpse a glimmer of unwavering humanity, the kind I lost long ago. Being near her is like standing close to a hearthfire after a thousand years in the cold. I won’t sever that link, can’t even if I wanted to. Yet the consequences of my presence in her life are vast.

I clear my throat, turning my gaze on the group. “You have shelter,” I say quietly, crossing my arms beneath my cloak. “That was the goal.”

Cole gives a short nod. “Yes. We can figure out next steps after we rest.” He sounds tired but genuine.

Silas’s jaw flexes. “So… what now? You staying, or are you going to vanish off into the night as usual?”

I sense the challenge in his tone. A surge of annoyance flares beneath my ribs. This settlement is a convenient respite forthem, but for me… it’s a trap. Humans will eventually notice the peculiarities around me—my lack of breath, the unnatural aura if I remove my cloak, the swirl of demonic power I can’t fully contain. Better if I depart. But the bond to Calla is unbreakable. Shehasto come with me, or else the contract might twist her soul in my absence. Not to mention, I can’t protect her from afar.Nor do I want to.

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