Page 12 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
The kitchen is massive, all warm wood and copper pots hanging from iron hooks. A large stone fireplace dominates one wall, the enchanted flames dancing merrily in the hearth and casting shifting shadows across the room. The wooden table inthe center could easily seat a dozen people, but this morning it hosts only two occupants.
Ava sits in a chair that's slightly too big for her, her small legs swinging freely while she hunches over a piece of parchment. Her thick black curls are still mussed from sleep, and she's wearing the simple nightgown Lira provided yesterday—soft white cotton that makes her caramel skin glow in the firelight. The tip of her tongue peeks out between her lips as she concentrates, gripping a piece of charcoal like it's the most important tool in the world.
Beside her, Rhyen sits with the relaxed ease of someone who belongs in this space. His silver-white hair is loose around his shoulders, and he's dressed more casually than I've seen him—simple dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An untouched mug of tea sits at his elbow, steam curling up into the warm air, but all his attention is focused on my daughter.
"That's a very good spiral," he says seriously, leaning forward to examine her work. "See how it gets tighter as it goes toward the center? That's exactly how nautilus shells grow."
"What's a nautilus?" Ava asks without looking up from her drawing, adding another careful line to whatever masterpiece she's creating.
"It's a sea creature with a shell that spirals just like that. They live deep in the ocean and can change colors like magic." Rhyen's voice holds the perfect tone for talking to a four-year-old—not condescending, not overly simplified, but warm with the kind of patience that suggests he could sit here all day answering her questions.
"Can they really change colors?"
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Really truly. They can turn blue or green or purple, whatever color helps them hide from the big fish that want to eat them."
Ava finally looks up from her drawing, those impossible violet-gold eyes wide with fascination. "Like how Mama makes us hide sometimes?"
My breath catches in my throat. She's too young to understand what she's revealed, too innocent to know that she's just handed this man a piece of our history wrapped in the simple honesty that only children possess.
Rhyen's expression doesn't change, but something shifts in the way he holds himself. When he speaks, his voice is carefully gentle. "Sometimes hiding is the smartest thing to do. It keeps the people we love safe."
"Mama's really good at hiding. She knows all the best places." Ava returns to her drawing, adding what might be fins to her spiral creature. "But I don't like it when she gets scared. Her face goes all white and her hands shake."
"That must be frightening for you."
"Sometimes. But Mama always takes care of me, even when she's scared. She sings to me when the thunder gets too loud." Ava pauses in her artistic endeavors to look at him again. "Do you ever get scared?"
Rhyen considers this with the seriousness the question deserves. "Yes, I do. Everyone gets scared sometimes, even grown-ups."
"What scares you?"
"Hmmm," he says thoughtfully, his celestial blue eyes bright as he studies her. "The tickle monster." He nods with finality. "That one more than anything."
Ava giggles. "I'll save you from the tickle monster."
A smile overtakes his face, full of warmth like every time he's looked at her. These two have instantly connected, drawn to each other, and I'm not sure how to feel about it. "Well, thank you."
I should announce myself. Should step into the kitchen and reclaim my daughter and stop this conversation before it reveals any more of our secrets. But I find myself frozen in the doorway, watching this impossible scene unfold.
Rhyen with my child. Patient and kind and genuine in a way that makes my chest ache with longing and terror. Treating her like she matters, like her questions deserve real answers, like she's worthy of his time and attention. The way her face lights up when he speaks to her, the comfortable way she sits beside this powerful man who could snap her neck with one careless movement.
The way she trusts him already, completely and without reservation.
"I drew you a zarryn," Ava announces, turning her parchment so he can see it properly. "See? It has two tails, and I made its fur all scribbly."
"That's magnificent," Rhyen says, and the wonder in his voice sounds completely genuine. "Look at all that detail in the mane. And you remembered the double tails perfectly."
Ava beams at the praise, practically glowing with pride. "I'm going to draw you one too. What's your favorite color?"
"Blue, I think. Like the sky just before dawn."
"I like blue, too. I'll make you the best zarryn ever and you can keep it forever."
"I would be honored to have such a precious gift."
The formal way he phrases it makes Ava giggle, but not in a mocking way. She's delighted by his courtly manner, charmed by being treated like someone whose art is worthy of such respect. When she returns to her drawing, Rhyen's gaze finds mine again, and this time I see him register my presence.
"Good morning," he says without a trace of surprise or alarm, as if finding a half-dressed woman lurking in his doorway atdawn is perfectly normal. "There's tea if you'd like some. Lira left a pot brewing before she went to tend the herb garden."
