Page 7 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
She walks like someone who's forgotten what it feels like to not be hunted. Every few steps, she glances back the way we came, her amber eyes scanning for threats that might be following. Her hand hovers near a knife at her belt—worn leather handle, well-maintained blade. She knows how to use it. Has used it. I'm genuinely shocked she didn't stab that vendor with it—which means she's smart, too. She never would have gotten out of the situation if she had.
"What's your name?" I ask, keeping my voice gentle. Ava has settled more comfortably against my chest, her small fingers exploring the silver clasps on my shirt with the focused concentration only children possess.
"Lenny." The answer comes after a beat too long, like she had to remember which name was safe to give. "Kaelenya, but... Lenny."
"Where are you headed, Lenny?"
Another pause. She's calculating, weighing options, trying to decide how much truth she can afford. "South. Maybe east. Somewhere with work."
The vague answer tells me everything I need to know. They're not traveling toward something—they're running from it. Have been for a while, from the looks of them. Lenny's clothes are well-made but worn thin in places that suggest constant travel. Her boots have been resoled at least twice. Ava's dress is clean but has been let down at the hem repeatedly as she's grown.
"A bakery!" Ava announces suddenly, tilting her head back to look at me. "Mama makes the best bread."
"Is that right?" I glance at Lenny, who's gone rigid beside me. "You're a cook?"
"I... sometimes." Her voice carries the careful neutrality of someone who's learned that admitting to skills can be dangerous. "When there's work."
She doesn't trust me. Can't blame her for that—a strange xaphan offering help to a human woman and her half-demon child isn't exactly the safest scenario. But the way she keeps looking at Ava, the protective calculation in her eyes, tells me she's running out of options.
"My previous cook left last month," I say, keeping my tone conversational as we walk. "Decided city life suited him better than estate work. Position's still open."
Lenny stumbles slightly, her step faltering. "I don't... we can't..."
"It comes with room and board." I shift Ava to my other arm as she starts to get heavy, earning me a sleepy smile. "Good wages, time off when you need it. You'd still have freedom."
The longing that flashes across Lenny's face is there and gone so quickly I almost miss it. But I've spent years reading people in combat situations, learning to spot the tells that mean the difference between survival and death. She wants what I'm offering so badly it physically hurts her.
"I can't," she whispers. "You don't understand?—"
"I understand that you're exhausted." My voice comes out rougher than I intend. "I understand that you've been running so long you've forgotten what it feels like to stop. And I understand that this little girl deserves better than constantly looking over her shoulder."
Ava chooses that moment to pipe up. "Are we going to your house? Do you have flowers?"
"I do. I have a whole garden. And zarryn in the stables." I catch Lenny's sharp intake of breath at the mention of my estate. She's starting to realize exactly who she's dealing with. "I can show you all the flowers."
"I like flowers." Ava yawns against my shoulder.
That tugs at my heartstrings.
"The position's yours if you want it," I say quietly, my eyes fixed straight ahead. "No questions asked about your past. References aren't necessary."
Lenny's breathing has gone shallow. "Why would you... I don't understand why you'd help us."
Because looking at you is like looking at every refugee I've ever seen fleeing a war zone. Because your daughter trusts me completely and children have better instincts about people than most adults. Because that vendor back there looked at Ava like she was something to be exterminated, and the thought of letting you walk away to face more of that makes my chest tight with rage.
Because I already feel far too protective over the little girl in my arms and I can't let her face the life I'm sure she has had to live.
"Because I need a cook," I say instead. "And you need a safe place to rest."
She doesn't answer immediately. We walk in silence through another twist in the road, past a small shrine to one of the minor goddesses tucked into an alcove between buildings. The afternoon light filters through the vine canopy, casting shifting patterns of green and gold across the stone pathway.
Ava has gone completely limp against my chest, her breathing deep and even. The child's exhaustion is obvious now that she's allowed herself to relax. How long since either of them had a proper night's sleep?
"The people who... the ones you're running from," I keep my voice low, mindful of small ears even if they seem to be sleeping. "Will they follow you to New Solas?"
Lenny's step falters again. "I don't know. Maybe. They have resources, connections. I thought... I hoped we'd gotten far enough, but..."
"They won't touch you on my land." The words come out flat and certain. "Whatever they want, whoever they are, they'll have to go through me first."
