Page 11 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
"Can I go see it?" Ava asks, already bouncing on her toes with anticipation.
"After dinner," Rhyen promises. "And only with your mother or one of us to show you the safe paths. Some parts of the garden are still wild, and we don't want you getting lost."
Lost. Like there are places on this property where a small child could wander off and never be found. The thought should alarm me, but instead I find myself thinking about how freeing it must be to have enough space that getting lost is even a possibility. Every place we've lived has been small enough that three steps in any direction would bring you to a wall.
"The evening meal is in an hour," Lira says, smoothing down her skirts. "I've been handling dinner, so it's nothing fancy—roasted tuskram with baked zynthra and fresh bread. Simple fare."
Simple fare that probably costs more than I've spent on food in the last month. My stomach betrays me with a low growl that makes Merrin giggle.
"I'll bring a plate up if you'd rather not come down to the dining room," she offers kindly. "Sometimes it's nice to eat somewhere quiet when you're settling in."
The dining room. Where all of Rhyen's people will gather, where I'll be the center of attention whether I want to be or not. Where Ava will be watched and evaluated and judged, no matter how kindly they're treating her now.
Where I'll have to sit across from Rhyen and pretend I'm not constantly calculating how quickly I could grab Ava and run if things go wrong.
"We'll come down," I hear myself saying, though the words feel like someone else spoke them. "Ava should... she should eat with other people. She doesn't get to do that often."
Never gets to do that, actually. We've eaten every meal alone for four years, huddled in whatever corner or rented room we could afford, always listening for footsteps that might mean discovery.
Rhyen nods as if this is perfectly normal, as if he hasn't just witnessed me make what feels like the most terrifying decision of my adult life. "The dining room is informal. No ceremony, no special rules. Just people sharing a meal."
Just people. Like we're just people too, instead of a fugitive and her half-demon child. Like we belong at someone's table.
"I'll let you get settled," he says, moving toward the door. "Rest, explore, make yourselves comfortable. This is your home now."
There it is again. That word that makes my chest ache with longing and terror in equal measure.
He pauses in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space, silver-white hair catching the magical light like captured starshine. When he looks back at us, there's something in his expression I can't quite name—protective, maybe, or possessive in a way that should scare me but somehow doesn't.
"Lenny." My name in his deep voice does things to my nervous system that I really can't afford right now. "Whatever you're afraid of, whatever you're running from—it can't touch you here. I give you my word."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone with Ava and the echo of a promise I have no reason to believe but desperately want to trust.
5
LENNY
The pale gray light filtering through the enchanted windows pulls me from restless sleep, and my hand immediately reaches for the warm body that should be curled against my side. My fingers find only empty bedsheets, still holding the faint impression of where Ava's small form had been.
Gone.
Panic slams through my chest like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs. She's gone, she's gone, they took her while I slept like a fool who believed in safety and promises and?—
I roll out of bed before the thought finishes forming, my bare feet hitting the cold stone floor with barely a sound. The cloak I'd draped over the chair gets thrown around my shoulders as I move, muscle memory taking over while my mind fractures into a thousand possibilities, each worse than the last.
We should have left before dawn. Should have gathered our things while the house slept and disappeared into the forest paths like we always do. Should have trusted my instincts instead of the treacherous warmth in a stranger's eyes. Four years of survival, four years of keeping us alive, and I let one kind xaphan and his comfortable estate make me forget that nowhereis safe, no one can be trusted, not when it comes to protecting what's mine.
The hallway stretches before me in the predawn gloom, all silver-veined archways and shadowed corners where someone could be hiding. My hand finds the knife concealed in my sleeve, fingers wrapping around the familiar weight of the hilt while I force myself to think. Where would they take her? The stables? Some hidden room I haven't seen yet? Off the property entirely while I slept like a trusting idiot?
I move through the house like smoke, checking corners and doorways, listening for any sound that might tell me where she is. The polished stone floors are cold against my bare feet, but I barely notice. Everything in me is focused on finding my daughter, on the growing certainty that I've made the worst mistake of my life by thinking we could have something good.
The main staircase curves down into the front hall, and I take the steps two at a time despite the need for stealth. If they have her, if someone came in the night and?—
Soft laughter drifts up from somewhere deeper in the house. A child's giggle, bright and unafraid, followed by the low rumble of a man's voice saying something I can't quite make out. The sound stops me cold, one hand gripping the banister while I strain to listen.
That's Ava's laugh. Not distressed, not frightened. Happy.
Relief and confusion war in my chest as I follow the sound through the maze of hallways toward what must be the kitchen. The darkness gradually gives way to warm golden light spilling from an open doorway, and I creep closer until I can see inside.
