7. Ada
7
ADA
I lean back against the cushions, watching Rose attempt another spell with the twins. Her small face scrunches in concentration, honey-blonde curls falling into her eyes as she mimics Luna's graceful hand movements. The doll twitches, rises an inch, then plops back down.
"Almost!" Luna claps her tiny hands. "You just need more sparkles. Everything's better with sparkles."
"That's not how magic works," Nova points out, adjusting her flour-dusted sleeve. "Uncle Dez says it's about focus."
Rose's violet eyes light up. "Like when you made the rainbow?"
"Here." Nova takes Rose's hands in hers. "Think about happy things. That helps me with colors."
A soft purple glow emanates from their joined fingers. Rose gasps as tiny stars appear, dancing around their heads.
"You did it!" The twins chorus.
My throat tightens. In four years of running, I've never seen Rose so... free. No tension in her small shoulders, no watchful glances at windows and doors. Just pure childhood joy as she creates more stars with her new friends.
"They're good for her." Vashti's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "Children need other children."
"We haven't stayed anywhere long enough..." I trail off, watching Luna show Rose how to change the stars' colors.
"Look, Mama!" Rose spins in place, stars swirling around her. "I'm making conste- const-"
"Constellations," I supply helpfully.
"Those!"
The stars shift to soft gold, matching Rose's curls. Luna adds her own silver sparkles to the mix while Nova crafts a gentle backdrop of blues and purples. My daughter stands in the middle of their impromptu galaxy, giggling as starlight dances across her skin.
"She's a natural," Dezoth observes quietly. "Just needed the right teachers."
I watch as Rose catches a star in her palm, her face glowing with wonder. For the first time since we fled, she looks her age - not a hunted child, but a little girl playing with friends.
"Again!" she begs as the magic fades. "Please?"
The twins share a grin before creating new constellations, teaching Rose how to weave light between her fingers. Their laughter echoes off the walls, three voices blending in perfect harmony.
The next morning, I'm gathering herbs from the small garden when unfamiliar footsteps approach. My fingers tighten around the shears before I spot the twins' copper curls.
A woman I haven't met follows behind them, her long dark hair pulled back in a practical braid. She moves with the same careful grace I recognize in myself - the kind learned from years of avoiding notice.
"Mama, this is Miss Mira!" Rose bounces over. "She makes the best cookies!"
"And teaches us songs," Luna adds, tugging on Mira's sleeve.
"When we're good," Nova amends with a solemn nod.
Mira's green eyes meet mine with quiet understanding. "Vashti told me how much the girls have been loving coming over here. I hope we're not interrupting?"
"Not at all." I set down my shears, noting how she keeps a careful distance. Another habit I know well. "Would you like some tea?"
While the girls race to the tree, Mira helps me harvest mint leaves. Her sleeve shifts, revealing a familiar brand on her wrist. She catches me looking and doesn't hide it.
"I…used to be a slave. Until I ran from my master," she says softly. "I ended up stumbling into Karn's shop, and he offered me a job, watching the girls."
"And you trusted him? Just like that?"
"Gods no." A small smile plays at her lips. "I was certain he was going to sell me out."
The mental image startles a laugh from me. "What changed?"
"The twins, actually. They were chaotic, more than they are now, but they were so happy to be around me. They'd follow after me everywhere, offering toys and hugs." Mira's eyes soften watching them show Rose how to reach the lowest branch as they climb outside. "It's hard to fear someone who spends his evenings wearing fairy wings because his nieces insist."
"I understand what you mean. I think I fell for Rose's father because he was that kind of man," I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. "He would've been so good to her."
Mira's hand finds mine, warm and steady. "He was a demon?" I nod, throat tight. "And I'm guessing he paid the price for loving a human?" I nod again, never having felt so seen.
"They tried to sell me to a collector." Her voice hardens. "As if we're pretty trinkets to be owned."
"How do you trust again? After everything?"
"One day at a time." Mira squeezes my hand. "And on the hard days, I remember I'm choosing to stay. That makes all the difference."
Rose's delighted shriek draws our attention. She's perched on a branch, beaming as the twins create magical stepping stones of light to help her climb higher.
Dezoth gets home just before Mira leaves, and she smiles at him, greeting him softly. It eases another notch in my chest, and slowly, I feel my walls coming down.
After Mira and the twins skip home, Rose tugs at my skirt, violet eyes bright with curiosity. She clutches her new favorite doll - a gift from Dezoth that sparkles with embedded magic.
"Mama, can we stay with the nice guard Captain forever?"
My heart twists. I brush a honey-blonde curl from her forehead, buying time to steady my voice. "Why do you ask, flower?"
"Because he makes the best magic lights." Rose waves her doll, sending tiny sparkles cascading through the air. "And he knows all about demon stuff, like why my eyes glow sometimes."
"We'll stay," I whisper. For now, I don't add.
Rose takes off then, back into the house, and I hear her giggle as Dezoth says something. I walk in to find him spinning her around and setting her back down.
"I have to show you something!' she tells him excitedly.
Dezoth sits back in his chair, those intimidating golden eyes softening as he looks at Rose. "I'm ready."
Rose demonstrates her new trick, his eyes never leaving her. His usual stern expression melts when she bounds over to show him.
"Look! I made them dance like you showed me."
"Well done, little flower." His deep voice gentles, matching her excitement. "Your control is improving."
Rose beams at the praise, then frowns thoughtfully. "Is that why we're staying? Because you can teach me about magic?"
I freeze, caught between truth and protection. Before I can answer, Dezoth kneels to her level, his massive frame somehow less imposing as he meets her gaze.
"Your mother is very brave to bring you here," he says carefully. "Sometimes being brave means asking for help."
"Like when I couldn't reach the cookies and Luna helped?"
A rare smile crosses his face. "Something like that."
Rose nods, satisfied with this simple explanation. She returns to practicing her sparkles, unaware of how my hands shake or how Dezoth's expression holds centuries of understanding.
"She deserves a childhood," he murmurs, watching her play. "Not a life of running."
The guilt crashes over me. We've been here two weeks - longer than anywhere since we fled. Each day, Rose blooms a little more, learning to control her magic instead of hiding it. And each night, I lie awake wondering if I'm selfish for wanting this peace to last.
That evening, I notice Rose's doll missing from her bed. She's sound asleep, curled around her pillow instead of her usual sparkly companion. A quick search of our rooms turns up nothing.
My heart races until I remember her showing Dezoth her new magic tricks. The study door stands ajar, warm lamplight spilling into the hallway. I pause at the threshold, struck by the sight before me.
Dezoth sits at his massive oak desk, but instead of reports or documents, he cradles Rose's doll in his battle-scarred hands. His golden eyes are distant, lost in thought as one finger traces the delicate embroidery he enchanted himself. The doll seems impossibly small against his palms, yet he holds it like spun glass.
"I can come back-"
"No, please." He straightens but doesn't set the doll down. "I was just... she reminds me of someone."
I step into the study, drawn by the raw emotion in his voice. "The woman Vashti mentioned?"
"My sister shouldn't be mentioning things to you." But he doesn't sound angry. Instead, he clears his throat. "I've made dolls like this before. For another demon child who needed to learn."
The mighty demon Captain looks almost vulnerable, shoulders curved inward as if protecting an old wound. His ritual markings catch the lamplight as he adjusts the doll's tiny dress with impossible tenderness.
"It's kind of you. To make her things like that."
"It's what she deserves." His eyes meet mine, molten gold in the dim light. "She deserves that chance. To make people smile, to learn magic without fear."
Something shifts in my chest, watching this fearsome warrior handle my daughter's toy with such care. The same hands that wield sword and shield, that command armies, now straightening a miniature bow with gentle precision.
"I should return this before she notices it's gone," he murmurs.
"I'll take it." Though I almost feel bad doing so now.
He hands it to me, his eyes still on the doll, and I know that ache on his face. It makes me hurt for him. I take it gentle, murmuring my goodnights as I head back to my room with Rose.
I lie in bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. The conversation in Dezoth's study replays in my mind - the way his massive frame seemed to shrink as he cradled Rose's doll, how I could see the longing on his face.
My fingers trace the scar along my collarbone, a permanent reminder of why I shouldn't notice these things. Why I shouldn't care how his golden eyes crinkle at the corners when Rose makes him laugh, or how his intimidating presence becomes a shelter rather than a threat when he stands between us and the world.
A floorboard creaks outside my door. My heart jumps until I hear his familiar heavy tread passing by on his nightly patrol. The sound should frighten me - a demon warrior mere steps away. Instead, my pulse steadies.
"Foolish," I whisper to myself. "You're being foolish."
But I can't forget how carefully he held that doll, like he was cradling all his lost dreams in those battle-scarred hands. The mighty Captain of the Guard, who makes hardened criminals tremble, spending his evening fixing a child's toy.
I roll over, punching my pillow. Sleep won't come while my mind races with dangerous thoughts. Like how his deep voice turns gentle around Rose, answering her endless questions about demon magic. Or how his fierce protective instincts extend to all children, not just his nieces.
"You can't trust him," I remind myself firmly. "No matter how kind he seems."
But that's the problem. He doesn't seem kind - he is kind, in a way that breaks through every wall I've built. His gruff exterior can't hide how his eyes soften watching Rose play, or how patiently he teaches her to control her magic.
I press my face into the pillow, trying to smother the warmth blooming in my chest. I know better than to let my guard down. The last time I trusted a demon's kindness...
But Dezoth isn't like Rose's grandfather. He doesn't hide cruelty behind a gentle facade. Everything about him is honest - his strength, his honor, and yes, his loneliness.
That's what terrifies me most. Not his power or his position, but how much I want to ease that loneliness I recognize in his eyes. How natural it feels to let him into our lives, despite everything my experience screams against it.