Page 42 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

Her eyes reflect a flicker of hope. The tension between us simmers, that unspoken awareness of how close we stand. I sense her heartbeat pounding through the bond, and my own pulses in response. My mind flashes to the memory of her lips parted in passion, her body arching under mine. A swirl of guilt at how I dismissed it as mere contract compulsion.

She clears her throat, stepping back slightly. “I want that wish, Daeva,” she murmurs, defiance coloring her tone. “I swear, I’ll fight you again. One day, I’ll win.”

A faint smile ghosts across my face, despite my efforts to remain stoic. “I’ll look forward to it.”

That night, we make camp near a shallow stream, the chirping of crickets underscoring the quiet between us. She busies herself collecting water, her face thoughtful. I sense her emotions roiling—determination, lingering disappointment, a spark of curiosity about the wish. But she doesn’t speak of it. I, too, remain silent on deeper matters. We share a meal of dried rations, the tension thick as the star-flecked sky arches over us.

The days stretch into a rhythm of training and traveling. Sometimes, she nearly manages a lucky strike—earning my wary respect—only for me to twist away at the last second. My mind roils with conflicting feelings: pride at her progress, concern at her reckless desire to prove herself, and an aching need to keep her close while feigning detachment.

I watch her from the corner of my eye as she practices conjuring small wisps of shadow, then forcing them to dissolve before they latch onto her mind. She’s determined, brow knitted in fierce concentration. My chest tightens with grudging admiration.You are not weak, Calla—nor worthless,I admit silently.But I can’t speak it aloud, for fear you’ll see how much I need you.

Each night, we part ways at the edges of the fire’s light—she sleeps on one side, I on the other, hearts pounding with unresolved tension. Occasionally, I sense her gaze on me across the embers, and my entire being thrums with the urge to close the distance, to seize her mouth in a punishing kiss. But I smother it, reminding myself of the contract, of my hidden enemy, of the looming danger I still refuse to name.She can’t be entangled more than she already is.

And so we endure the hush, broken only by the crackle of flames, the rustle of wind across the rocky plains, and the unspoken promise that she’ll challenge me again—and someday, she might just land that decisive blow.

On the last evening of our week-long trek, I stand at a high bluff, overlooking a valley bristling with pine trees. Calla is behind me, packing up remnants of our meager dinner. A faint copper glow tints the horizon, dusk threatening to descend fully. My mind churns with half-formed plans. We should move east soon, skirting the foothills in search of any rumored arcane ruins. Perhaps there I can find a key to unraveling our contract. Or maybe I’m chasing rumors, frightened of the day my old adversary inevitably finds me.

I sense Calla’s approach. She stands beside me, arms folded, eyes scanning the same valley. “Tomorrow we move on?” she asks.

“Yes,” I reply. “We’ll try to cross the ridge before midday.”

She nods, breath fogging in the cool air. “Thank you,” she says quietly after a moment.

My brow furrows. “For what?”

She shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “For teaching me. For… tolerating me. Even if you’re harsh.” A wry twist of her lips. “I know I’m not the best student.”

I sigh, turning to face her. Moonlight grazes her hair, illuminating the curve of her cheek. My chest aches with too many unsaid words. “You’re better than you think,” I manage. “And— I’m not good at this. Teaching, I mean. Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

She lets out a soft laugh, but it fades swiftly. Silence wraps around us. I wrestle with the urge to hold her, to bridge the gap in more ways than one. But I cling to my facade, reminding myself it’s safer to keep her at bay.

Eventually, she exhales, giving me a faint smile. “I’ll beat you one day, you know.”

The corner of my mouth curves. “Is that so?”

She lifts her chin, defiance sparking in her eyes. “Yes. And when I do, I have a wish you’ll grant.”

A ripple of tension goes through me.What will she wish for? Her freedom from the contract? My secrets? Something else?I force a scoff. “You’re welcome to try.” My voice sounds more confident than I feel.

She nods, satisfied, as if she’s made a silent promise to herself. Then, with the matter closed, she brushes past me, heading back to the campsite. Our shoulders nearly touch, and I catch a thread of that old, maddening pull in the bond. She doesn’t stop, but the look in her eyes as she passes—lingering vulnerability—spears me through.

I remain on the bluff, staring into the darkening valley long after her footsteps fade. The wind tugs at my cloak, raking through my hair. My heart hammers with a confusing mix of pride, longing, and dread. Each day I watch her grow stronger, more capable. Each day I grapple with the knowledge thatI want her, not just for the contract’s sake, but for the spark of life she brings.

Yet I can’t afford to let her in. I can’t let her see the demons of my past. If she knew about the ancient enmity that still hunts me…No,I think, eyes drifting shut.That secret is mine to bear.She might be bound to me, but she’s better off not knowing how deep the darkness truly runs.

At length, I return to the camp. She’s already curled on her bedroll, eyes closed, though I sense she’s not asleep. I settle across from her, near the fading fire. A hush falls, broken only by the crackle of dying embers. My gaze finds her face half-lit by the glow, and I swallow thickly, recalling the warmth of her body pressed to mine on that night of blood and frenzy.

It’s the bond, I repeat in my mind, a mantra that’s losing its conviction.Just the bond.Because admitting otherwise would mean letting my heart step into a place I vowed never to go again.

I close my eyes and let exhaustion claim me, half-aware of her presence thrumming through the tether.Someday, you might land that blow, Calla, I muse, a trace of reluctant fondness stirring.But will it be me you defeat, or your own fears?

The darkness gives no answers. And so we drift into uneasy dreams, bound by a contract neither of us can fully escape, locked in a dance of blood, magic, and unresolved longing—both yearning for a victory that might free us from the chains we refuse to name.

11

CALLA

Isense trouble long before I see it. It’s a tingle at the base of my spine, a prickling awareness in the back of my mind that has me tightening my grip on the dagger I carry. Beside me, Daeva’s lips press thin. He feels it too—something dark stirring in the wind or creeping across the horizon. We’ve just crested a low ridge, overlooking a valley cluttered with stunted trees and dry underbrush, when the scent of dust and fear drifts our way.

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