Page 28 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
"Won't be a problem." The words come out with more authority than I intended, but I mean them completely. "She'll be with me. That makes her off-limits to everyone."
Something shifts in Lenny's expression—surprise, maybe, or the recognition of what I'm really saying. That I'll stand between Ava and anyone who might threaten her. That my protection extends beyond the estate grounds, beyond the carefully controlled environment where we've been learning to be something that resembles a family.
"Please, Lady Mama?" Ava employs the wide-eyed plea that could probably convince a stone statue to dance. "I promise to be very good and very royal and not touch anything sharp."
Lenny looks at me again, and this time I see something different in her gaze. Not just the calculation of risk and benefit that governs most of her decisions, but something deeper. The tentative recognition that maybe, just maybe, her world doesn't have to be defined by running anymore.
"Just a brief tour," she says finally. "And if anything feels wrong?—"
"We leave immediately," I finish. "No arguments, no questions."
She nods slowly, and my heart does something acrobatic in response. This isn't just permission for Ava to see where I work—it's trust. Real, tentative, fragile trust that she's placing in my hands despite every instinct that tells her not to.
"Tomorrow morning," I suggest. "Early, before the full training schedule begins. Less crowded, easier to control who's around." I hesitate before adding, "And you should come, too."
I don't admit that I want her there. I want to show her my work, my life. I find myself wanting to tell Lenny more, to see her reactions to everything, too.
I can see her expression shift, and though there's fear there, she says in a soft voice. "Okay."
Surprise filters through me. "Okay?"
"Okay." She gives a nod like confirming it with herself. "We'll both go with you in the morning."
"Can I wear my crown?" Ava asks, fingering the flower stems woven through her curls.
"Empresses always wear their crowns," I assure her.
She beams, bouncing on her cushioned throne with pure excitement. But my attention remains fixed on Lenny, on the way she's watching me with something approaching wonder in her amber eyes. Like she's seeing something she hadn't expected to find.
The afternoon light shifts, painting everything in gold and amber. Ava chatters about what she hopes to see tomorrow, the garden sprites chirp their approval, and Lenny smiles—really smiles, without reservation or fear shadowing the expression.
For the first time since I brought them home, I let myself imagine that this could be real. Not just a temporary arrangement born of circumstance and charity, but something lasting. Something whole.
The three of us, building a life together in the spaces between duty and desire.
13
LENNY
Iwake before dawn with nerves dancing under my skin like restless spirits. The promise of taking Ava somewhere beyond these safe walls feels both exhilarating and terrifying—a step toward something that resembles a normal life, but one that requires trusting Rhyen completely.
He's already awake when I venture downstairs, Ava with him, of course. He quickly sends her upstairs, watching after her as she takes off. He's dressed in his training attire—deep blue leather that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders, silver clasps that catch the lamplight, boots polished to mirror brightness. His pale blue wings are folded tight against his back, but I can see the tension in them, the way they twitch slightly when he turns.
"Second thoughts?" he asks without looking up from the travel pack he's assembling.
"Third and fourth thoughts," I admit, accepting the steaming mug he offers. The meadowmint tea warms my hands through the porcelain, but does nothing for the cold knot of anxiety in my stomach.
"We don't have to do this."
His voice holds no judgment, no disappointment—just genuine understanding. It's this quality in him that unravels me most, the way he offers choices without pressure, safety without conditions.
"She's been talking about it since yesterday afternoon," I say instead of voicing my fears. "If I back out now, she'll spend weeks asking why."
Footsteps thunder down the stairs before he can respond, and Ava bursts into the kitchen like a tiny comet of excitement. She's wearing her best dress—the deep purple one with silver embroidery that Lira insisted on buying during our last market trip—and her flower crown from yesterday, somehow still intact after a night of sleep.
"Is it time? Are we going now? Can I see the swords first or the flying first?" The words tumble out in a breathless rush as she practically vibrates with anticipation.
"After breakfast," Rhyen tells her, his stern expression completely undermined by the way his eyes soften when he looks at her. "Empresses need proper nutrition before royal visits."
