4. Dezoth
4
DEZOTH
T hrough the window of my study, morning light casts long shadows across the garden where Ada and Rose explore their new surroundings. Ada's movements are precise, calculated - each step measured as if testing for traps. Her honey-blonde braid swings with each careful movement while she examines the herb garden.
Rose, on the other hand, bounds from plant to plant with unrestrained joy. Her violet eyes sparkle as she discovers new flowers is so much like what I'd imagined... I clench my jaw, forcing the thought away.
"Mama, look! These ones make sparkles!" Rose's delighted squeal carries through the glass as she points to the shimmerbloom flowers.
Ada tenses, scanning the garden walls before responding. "Don't touch anything yet, sweetheart. We need to make sure they're safe first."
I drum my fingers against my desk, the silver rings clicking against the polished wood. The way Rose fearlessly approaches everything demon-made strikes a familiar chord. Raina had been the same way - no hesitation, no ingrained prejudice. Just pure acceptance.
Until she couldn't look at me anymore. Then there was no more acceptance.
"But they're pretty!" Rose protests, her tiny hands already reaching for the iridescent petals.
"Rose." Ada's voice carries a warning edge that makes the child pause.
My chest tightens as I watch Rose's shoulders slump in disappointment. She reminds me so much of the daughter I'll never know - the one whose nursery I'd started crafting before... Before everything fell apart. I trace the ritual markings on my forearm, focusing on the raised patterns to ground myself in the present.
"The shimmerbloom is harmless," I call out through the open window, making Ada jump. "It's used in children's magic lessons. The sparkles help them visualize energy flow."
Rose beams up at my window, those violet eyes alight with curiosity. "Can I learn magic too?"
Before I can respond, Ada places herself between Rose and my line of sight. The movement is subtle but speaks volumes about her protective instincts. Still, Rose peers around her mother's legs, completely unfazed by what I am.
"Please? I promise to be careful!"
The earnest plea hits like a physical blow. Seven years ago, I'd imagined teaching my own daughter magic in this very garden.
"What if I teach you after lunch?"
Rose's eyes light up at the words 'lunch,' and she races inside. I chuckle as I head to the dining room where I laid out some items I bought at the market this morning - a spread of roasted meats, fresh bread, and seasonal fruits. Rose's eyes go wide at the feast, while Ada's gaze darts between each dish as if cataloging potential threats.
"The sweet rolls are my favorite," Rose declares, climbing onto a chair without hesitation. Her tiny fingers reach for the twisted pastry. "At the last inn, they gave me one with purple berries inside!"
Ada remains standing, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Rose, wait-"
"Please, sit." I gesture to the chair, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. "The food is meant to be enjoyed."
When Ada finally settles into her seat, her spine remains rigid as a sword. She cuts Rose's food into small pieces, testing each morsel before allowing her daughter to eat.
"These are better than the purple ones!" Rose announces through a mouthful of sweet roll. "Mama, you have to try it!"
"Small bites, sweetheart." Ada's voice carries forced lightness, though her eyes never stop scanning the room.
I pour water into their glasses, noting how Ada flinches when my hand comes near. "I went to the market this morning. If there's anything you want, I'm sure I can find it."
"Do they have those little cakes with stars on top?" Rose bounces in her seat. "The ones at grandfather's-"
"Rose." Ada's sharp tone cuts through the air. The child's mouth snaps shut, but not before I catch the flash of pain across Ada's features.
The silence stretches, broken only by the clink of silverware. I find myself searching for words to ease the tension, but years of command have left me better suited to giving orders than offering comfort.
"The garden has a section for edible plants," I say finally. "You're welcome to use anything you find there. I noticed your knowledge of herbs earlier."
Ada's eyes meet mine for the first time since sitting down. "Thank you," she whispers, the words barely audible.
Rose, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, launches into a detailed description of her favorite herbs and how her mother uses them to make "magic tea" that helps her sleep.
A sharp knock at the door interrupts Rose's enthusiastic herb lecture. Kestrel, one of my most trusted guards, stands at attention in the hallway. His expression tells me everything before he opens his mouth.
"Captain. Another report."
I rise from the table, my appetite gone. "Excuse me. Please, continue your meal."
Ada's fork freezes halfway to her mouth, her eyes tracking my movements as I follow Kestrel into the hall. Once the door closes, he hands me a sealed scroll.
"Fourth one this month, sir. Half-demon child, only three. Taken from the merchant district last night."
My fingers tighten on the parchment until it crackles. "Search pattern?"
"Teams are already sweeping the area. No traces of magic residue this time."
I scan the report, memorizing details while plotting search coordinates in my head. "We should set more wards. Have the Lieutenant get on that. And I want every guard watching for suspicious movement near families with mixed-blood children."
"Yes, sir." Kestrel starts to leave, but I stop him.
"Kestrel." He looks back at me. "I do not think I need to remind you that what happens in my home is private business."
He doesn't even blink. "Of course not, Captain."
I nod, dismissing him. I suspected that would be the answer I received. But I needed to make it clear anyway.
When I return to the dining room, Ada's posture has shifted from merely tense to coiled spring. Her eyes lock onto me, searching for threats in my expression. The easy atmosphere from moments ago has evaporated.
"Is everything alright?" She keeps her tone light, likely for Rose's benefit, but I catch the tremor underneath.
"Guard business." I settle back into my chair, noting how she angles herself between me and Rose. "Nothing that concerns you."
But her gaze doesn't waver, and I recognize the calculation behind it - the same look she wore when first examining my garden. Every action categorized as either threat or sanctuary. One wrong move could shatter this fragile peace we've built.
Rose chatters on about a thalivern she spotted earlier, unaware of the silent exchange between adults. Her innocent joy only heightens my resolve to solve these disappearances before they can touch this household.
"More sweet roll?" I offer, pushing the plate toward them.
Ada's eyes narrow slightly at my deflection. Her fingers drum once against the table before she forces them still. "Perhaps later. Rose, careful with your water."
After lunch, Ada takes Rose for a nap. I have to promise to make lots of sparkles when she gets up to get her to go since she was looking forward to our lesson. And honestly, I was, too.
In my office, I'm halfway through reviewing patrol reports when a small movement catches my eye. Rose stands in the doorway of my study, hair still messy from sleep, her tiny frame cast in shadow from the hallway torches. Her violet eyes fix on the wall of medals and insignias behind my desk.
"Those are shiny." She steps into the room, bare feet silent on the stone floor.
I should send her back to Ada. These reports demand attention, and I don't want her to feel like I'm making her or Rose uncomfortable. Yet something in her earnest curiosity stops me. "They are."
Rose approaches my desk, standing on tiptoes to get a better view. "What's that one?" She points to a silver medallion with crossed swords.
"Combat excellence." I set down my quill. "Earned it during my first year as Captain."
"Did you fight bad people?"
"Yes." I study her delicate features, so like her father's lineage. "Many of them."
She climbs onto the chair across from my desk without invitation. "And that gold one with the funny writing?"
"Demon script. It marks fifteen years of service to the Crown."
"Can you teach me to read it?" Her eyes light up. "Mama only knows human letters."
My chest tightens at her eagerness. "Perhaps. If your mother approves."
Rose traces the air, mimicking the curved demon script. "What about the red one? It looks like fire."
"Distinguished service during the Burning of Sarziroch." The memory of flames and screams flashes through my mind. "Though that's not a pleasant story."
"Because of the bad people?" She tilts her head, violet eyes unnervingly perceptive.
"Yes." I find myself reaching for the medallion. "Sometimes doing the right thing isn't easy."
"Mama says that too." Rose leans forward, elbows on my desk. "Is that why you're helping us? Because it's right?"
The question catches me off guard. I study her innocent face, seeing echoes of the family I almost had. "Something like that."
"I like your sparkly garden better than the mean house." She picks up my quill, examining the silver filigree. "And you don't yell like grandfather did."
My fingers still on the medallion. "No one will yell at you here, little one."
"Promise?" She holds out her pinky finger, a gesture so childlike it almost breaks my carefully maintained composure.
I wrap my much larger finger around hers. "Promise."
A soft melody drifts through the stone walls as I organize patrol schedules at my desk. The sound freezes my quill mid-stroke. Notes float through the air, carried on Ada's clear voice.
My chest constricts. Mother used to sing those same words, back when Vashti and I were small enough to believe her promises of safety. Before we learned what the world truly was.
I set down my quill, the patrol routes forgotten. Raina had hummed this same lullaby while decorating the nursery, her hands resting on her swollen belly. She'd painted stars on the ceiling, insisted our daughter would need something beautiful to dream about.
"I like the part about the flowers," Rose murmurs.
"I used to sing this to you when you were tiny." Ada's voice carries a warmth I haven't heard before. "Your father loved it too."
The silence that follows weighs heavy with unspoken grief. I trace the ritual markings on my forearm, remembering how Raina used to run her fingers along the raised patterns while we planned our future. A future that shattered like glass when we lost-
"Tell me about Papa?" Rose's question pulls me from the memory.
Ada's pause stretches long enough that I think she won't answer. "He had eyes just like yours. And he loved you more than anything in this world."
"Even more than sparkly flowers?"
"Even more than sparkly flowers." Ada's laugh catches on something that might be a sob.
I press my palms flat against the desk, fighting the urge to drown myself in work until these echoes of the past fade. But the lullaby continues, Ada's voice growing softer as Rose drifts toward sleep, and I find myself unable to move until the final notes fade into silence.