3. Ada
3
ADA
T his is not at all what I expected from a demon Captain. No gilded frames or ostentatious displays of wealth line these walls - just simple wooden panels and practical furnishings. The main room spreads before us, dominated by a stone hearth with well-worn armchairs flanking it. Bookshelves stretch from floor to ceiling, their contents neat but clearly read often.
I still haven't answered Dezoth and now he is staring at me, studying me. I don't know what to make of him.
Rose darts ahead of me, her curls bouncing as she investigates every corner. "Mama, look at all the books! And there's a cat pillow!"
"Be careful, Rose." My fingers twist in my skirt as I watch her explore. The lack of servants sets me on edge - in my experience, demon nobles never lift a finger for themselves.
Dezoth's heavy footsteps echo behind me as he moves toward what must be the kitchen. "The house is warded. She can't hurt herself here."
I trail after Rose, noting the absence of artwork save for a few landscape paintings. Everything speaks of functionality over fashion - even the sturdy oak table bears signs of use rather than decoration.
"Would you like water?" Dezoth emerges with a pitcher and cups balanced in one hand, a loaf of bread in the other. "I apologize for the simple fare. I rarely keep much on hand."
Rose scrambles onto one of the chairs, her legs swinging. "Is that honey bread? It smells like honey bread!"
A ghost of a smile crosses his face as he sets down our provisions. "It is. My sister brings it when she visits."
The water is cool and clean - a luxury after days of stream water. I watch as he cuts thick slices of bread, his movements precise despite his large hands. No rings adorn his fingers, no jewels glint at his throat. Everything about him defies what I know of demon nobility.
"Thank you." The words feel strange on my tongue - gratitude toward a demon.
Rose has already claimed her slice, honey crumbs dotting her chin. "This is the best bread ever! Even better than the bread at-"
"Rose." My sharp tone stops her before she can reveal too much about our past. She ducks her head, but continues eating with undiminished enthusiasm.
Dezoth's golden eyes flick between us, but he says nothing about my interruption. Instead, he pushes the bread closer to me. "Eat. You look ready to fall over."
I'm tentative, but I can't turn it away. So, I nibble on the bread and he cocks his head as he watches me.
"What if we make an arrangement?"
I swallow hard, and the bread settles in my stomach as Dezoth leans against the counter, arms crossed. His presence fills the kitchen despite his casual stance. "What do you mean?"
"I live alone by choice," he says. "No staff means privacy, which you clearly need. The house requires upkeep - cleaning, cooking, tending the herb garden out back. I'll offer you a safe place to stay in exchange for your services around the house."
My fingers tighten around the cup. "And what else would you expect from this arrangement?"
His jaw clenches. "I'm not offering charity, but I'm not a monster either. You'd have your own quarters with Rose. Lock the door if it makes you feel safer. I'm rarely home during daylight hours due to my duties."
Rose pipes up between bites, "We can stay here? With the books and the batlaz pillow?"
"If your mother agrees." His tone softens when addressing her, though his posture remains rigid. Then his eyes go back to me. "It's not a trick."
I study his face for any sign of deception. His golden eyes meet mine steadily, no trace of the predatory gleam I've come to expect from demons. The house speaks of solitude rather than luxury, and his position would indeed deflect questions.
"Why?" The word slips out before I can stop it. "Why offer this?"
Dezoth's gaze shifts to Rose, who has abandoned her bread to examine the bookshelves again. "Because some choices leave scars that never heal. Because sometimes honor demands more than following orders." His voice drops lower. "And because no child should pay for their parents' choices."
The weight of unspoken understanding passes between us. He knows - or suspects - Rose's heritage. Yet instead of threat, his words carry something that feels dangerously like compassion.
"The garden," I say carefully. "Would I have freedom to plant what I choose?"
"Within reason. Nothing poisonous or illegal. The back gate leads to an alley - useful for market trips without drawing attention. Though I can get anything that is needed."
I chew on my lip. But I don't really have an option. So, I nod. "We'd appreciate that."
He studies me for a moment longer before pushing upright. "Let me show you your room then."
Rose's soft breaths fill the quiet room as she sleeps curled on the couch around the batlaz pillow, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric. Dark circles shadow her eyes - evidence of our desperate flight these past weeks.
I sigh as I watch her. I want this for her, this calm and safety. But I need to finish talking to Dezoth before I can decide this is what's best for us, where little ears cannot hear.
I make my way to the kitchen, relieved and nervous when I find him still up. I cooked dinner tonight, and I was surprised when he joined me and Rose at the table. He keeps surprising me, and I don't do well with that.
He towers over the wooden table, but takes care to keep his distance as we sit. His movements are measured, deliberate - like he's conscious of how intimidating his presence could be.
"I need to know exactly what you expect." I fold my hands in my lap to hide their trembling. "No vague terms or implied obligations."
"You tend the garden and keep the house. I provide shelter, food, protection." He taps his fingers against the table. "That's really it, Ada."
"And you won't..." I swallow hard. "You won't touch either of us?"
His golden eyes flash. "I'm a demon, not an animal. My word, once given, is binding. You and the child will be safe here."
"Your position in the Guard-"
"Makes this the last place anyone would search." He leans back, crossing his arms. "Think about it - what better hiding spot than under their noses? My reputation alone will keep most visitors away."
So he knows I'm running from someone and he isn't turning us in. I can't wrap my mind around it - a demon that actually cares.
The logic is sound, but years of survival have taught me to look deeper. "Why risk your position helping us? One anonymous tip and you'd lose everything."
"Because it's the right thing to do." His gaze drift toward Rose's sleeping form. "And because some debts can never be repaid."
Something in his tone makes me look closer - the slight softening around his eyes when he watches Rose, the careful way he maintains his distance. This isn't just duty or honor driving him.
"You knew someone like her." The words slip out before I can stop them.
His jaw tightens. "Once. She didn't survive." He stands abruptly. "The choice is yours. If you ever want to leave, you are welcome to. Until then, my protection extends to both of you completely. No half measures."
He heads into the living room, and I expect him to disappear into the hall. But instead, I watch from the kitchen doorway as Dezoth approaches Rose's sleeping form. His massive frame casts long shadows in the firelight, yet his movements are precise, gentle as he goes to the corner and unfolds a thick wool blanket. The fabric drapes over her tiny body with surprising delicacy from hands I've seen grip a sword.
Rose stirs, her violet eyes fluttering open. "Is it bedtime?"
"Sleep, little one." His deep voice drops to a soft rumble. "The journey was long."
Instead of fear, my daughter smiles up at him - that pure, trusting smile that makes my heart ache. She reaches out, tiny fingers brushing against the ritual markings on his forearm. "Pretty lines."
My breath catches, memories of other demons' reactions to such familiarity flooding back. But Dezoth simply adjusts the blanket, letting her trace the silver patterns. "They show I'm a Captain."
"Like Mama's garden marks?" Rose yawns, curling deeper into the pillow. I told her that the scars on my arms were from working in a garden - not at the hand of her grandfather.
"Similar." His golden eyes soften as she drifts back to sleep, small hand still resting against his arm. The fearsome Captain of the Guard, feared throughout the city, sits perfectly still to avoid disturbing her rest.
The sight stirs something unexpected in my chest. Not fear - though that lingers, a constant companion these days. Something more like recognition. I've seen that look before, in mirrors and memories - the fierce need to protect.
He catches me watching and straightens, though his movements remain careful not to wake Rose. The hardness returns to his features, but I've seen beneath it now. Seen how my daughter's innocent touch cracked that carefully maintained facade.
"She's never been afraid of demons," I find myself saying. "No matter how many times I've tried to teach her caution."
"Children often see what adults miss." He adjusts the blanket one final time before stepping back. "Their hearts aren't clouded by experience."
Or scarred by it, I think, watching Rose's peaceful face. My fierce, beautiful girl who somehow maintains her light despite everything we've endured.
Dezoth gives me one last look before disappearing, and I find myself wondering if I can really do this. If I can really trust a demon. But as I scoop Rose up, I know that for her, I'd do anything.
Moonlight spills through gauzy curtains, painting silver patterns across the wooden floor of our new room. It's larger than any space we've had since fleeing, with a proper bed that Rose immediately claims as "the softest cloud ever" when I lay her down. She curls against me now, one hand clutching her treasured batlaz pillow from downstairs.
I trace my fingers along the window frame, testing its strength. Third floor, but there's a sturdy trellis that could work in an emergency. The back alley he mentioned provides a clear path to the market district, and from there...
"Mama?" Rose's sleepy voice breaks through my planning. "Are we staying?"
"For now, sweetheart." I smooth her honey-blonde curls, so like mine. "How are you feeling?"
She snuggles closer. "I like it here. Dezoth has nice books, and he didn't laugh when I touched his arm marks."
My chest tightens. "Rose, remember what we talked about? Being careful around-"
"But he's not scary." She yawns, violet eyes already drifting shut. "He looks so nice. Not like anyone else."
The comparison steals my breath. Those precious stolen moments in the manor gardens, when Rose's father would look at me like that when I was pregnant. Before everything shattered.
I slip from the bed once Rose's breathing evens out, pacing the room's perimeter. Two doors - one to the hallway, one to a small washroom. Both with sturdy locks. The furniture is simple but well-made, like everything else in this house. No gilt or glamour, just honest craftsmanship.
From somewhere down the hall, I hear Dezoth moving around. His footsteps are distinct - heavy but measured, like everything about him. So different from the demons I've known, with their flash and cruelty masked in beautiful lies.
"Just until we find something better," I whisper to myself, though the words ring hollow. We're tired of running, and Rose... Rose deserves more than constant fear.
I press my forehead against the cool window glass, watching shadows shift in the garden below. The herbs need attention - I can see that even in moonlight. Something solid to focus on, to ground myself in this moment instead of drowning in what-ifs.