8. Dezoth
8
DEZOTH
I stand at my study window, watching shadows lengthen across the polished floor. A sharp knock breaks the silence.
"Enter."
I'm not surprised when Rolfo enters. He's my closest friend, another Captain, and the only one helping me with the missing children. His heavy boots cross the threshold. His silver eyes hold that particular grimness I've come to recognize. Bad news.
"There was another one." He drops into the leather chair across from my desk. "Half-demon girl, couldn't have been more than six."
Ice spreads through my veins. "How far?"
"Three streets from the city walls. They're getting bolder." Rolfo runs a hand through his jet-black hair. "I still can't discern a pattern or figure out how they are finding them. It's like whoever this is wants to make sure there are no children with human and demon heritage."
My fingers curl into fists. "Collectors?"
"Has to be. Too precise to be random hate crimes." He leans forward. "Dezoth, that's four in the past month. Whatever they're planning-"
A burst of high-pitched giggles floats through the window. Rose's voice carries from the garden below, pure joy in every note. Both of us freeze.
Rolfo moves to stand beside me. Through the glass, we watch Rose chase thaliverns across the grass, her honey-blonde curls bouncing with each step. Her tiny form seems impossibly fragile against the backdrop of my dark garden.
"She's the right age." Rolfo's voice drops lower. I told him about Rose and Ada, but he hasn't met them. I don't want anyone near Rose - even if I have no right to be possessive. "And you said the mother's been running."
"I know." The words scrape my throat.
"The guard patrols won't be enough anymore. Not with them this close."
Another peal of laughter rings out as Rose spins in circles, arms spread wide. Her violet eyes shine with innocent delight, completely unaware of the darkness closing in around her tiny world.
"They won't touch her." My voice carries the edge of a growl. "I've tripled the wards since she arrived. Added blood magic to the perimeter."
"And when she wants to leave these walls? You can't keep her caged forever."
I don't have an answer for him. It's a question that's been plaguing with me.
It's still lingering in the back of my mind when I join them for dinner. I watch Ada's hands shake as she carefully cuts Rose's meat into tiny, manageable pieces. Her movements are precise despite the tremors – a mother's practiced care warring with lingering fear.
"Mama, can I have more juice?" Rose bounces in her seat, violet eyes bright with enthusiasm.
"Of course, sweetheart." Ada reaches for the pitcher, but her fingers fumble.
I catch it before it can spill. "Allow me."
Ada's warm brown eyes meet mine for a brief moment before darting away. She draws back, pressing her hands flat against her simple brown skirt. The gesture strikes something deep in my chest – this instinctive retreat, this careful dance of maintaining distance.
"Thank you," she murmurs.
I pour Rose's juice, noting how the child shows no such hesitation. She beams up at me, tiny fangs peeking out as she grins.
"Your garden has the prettiest flowers, Captain Dez!" I smile at the way she shortens my name like the twins. Maybe she should just call me Dez because Captain is a struggle. "Can we plant some pink ones next?"
"If your mother approves." I set the pitcher down, fighting the urge to smooth her wild honey curls.
Ada methodically cuts her own food, though she's barely touched it. Her braid has started to come loose, wisps of blonde hair framing her face. The simple motion of serving dinner seems to drain what little energy she has left after today's market incident.
My fingers itch to reach across the table, to still those trembling hands. To offer comfort, protection – something more tangible than just shelter within these walls. But I recognize the careful boundaries she's drawn. Each slight flinch when I move too quickly, each measured step to keep space between us.
So I remain in my chair, cutting my own meat with precise movements, and pretend not to notice when she jumps at the sound of branches scratching against windows in the evening breeze.
After dinner, I go back to my study. Sitting with Rose, watching her play, only makes me that more adamant to protect the children that are being hunted - children like her.
A muffled cry pierces the late night silence. I'm on my feet before conscious thought takes hold, stalking through dark hallways toward Rose's room.
The sound of soft singing stops me at her doorway. Ada perches on the edge of Rose's bed, her honey-blonde hair loose around her shoulders. Moonlight streams through the window, casting mother and daughter in silver.
Rose's tiny fingers clutch her mother's sleeve. Tear tracks glisten on her cheeks. "The bad men were chasing us again."
"Shh." Ada strokes Rose's curls. "We're safe here. No one can hurt you."
My chest constricts. The same lullaby Raina used to hum, planning for a future we never got to have. I can almost feel the phantom weight of tiny kicks against my palm as we lay in bed, dreaming of our child.
"But what if they find us?" Rose's violet eyes shine with tears in the darkness.
"Then Captain Dezoth will protect us." Ada's words surprise me. "Remember how the day you met him? He protected you then."
Rose nods, hiccupping slightly. "He's really big and strong."
"That's right." Ada tucks the blanket around Rose's shoulders. Her hands tremble less when she's focused on her daughter. "Now close your eyes, little flower. Dream of thaliverns and pink roses."
But her eyes slide from her mother and straight to me. She stares at me in a way that feels like it's tearing my soul out.
"Will you both stay?" Rose's voice quivers. "Just until I fall asleep?"
I hesitate at the doorway, but those violet eyes pierce straight through my defenses. "Of course, little one."
Ada turns to see me, her wariness a little lighter as I move into the room. The oversized reading chair in the corner barely fits my frame, yet Rose's hopeful expression has me settling into it. Ada pauses, uncertainty flickering across her features.
"There's room," I murmur, keeping my voice low and steady.
She perches on the edge, trying to maintain space between us. The chair has other ideas. With each breath, she slides incrementally closer until our thighs press together. The warmth of her seeps through my clothes.
Rose burrows deeper under her blankets, a tiny smile playing at her lips. "Can you sing the star song again, Mama?"
Ada's sweet voice fills the room once more. I close my eyes, letting the melody wash over me. Her shoulder relaxes against mine as the song continues. When she shivers – the night air carries a chill – I resist the urge to wrap an arm around her.
Her hair brushes my chest as she shifts, finding a more comfortable position. The scent of herbs and sunshine clings to her – she must have spent the afternoon in the garden. My fingers twitch with the desire to run through those golden strands.
Rose's breathing evens out, but neither of us move. The quiet feels sacred somehow, this bubble of peace in a world determined to tear apart everything beautiful. Ada's head droops, exhaustion finally claiming her. She fits perfectly against my side, as if carved from the same stone.
We sit in companionable silence, pretending this moment isn't shattering every careful boundary we've built. Pretending my heart doesn't race at her proximity. Pretending her fingers haven't curled into the fabric of my shirt.
The quiet creak of floorboards breaks our peaceful silence as Ada slides away from me, her warmth leaving a ghost of sensation as she straightens. Rose's tiny snores fill the room.
I unfold from the chair, my muscles protesting the awkward position. Ada's fingers brush her daughter's forehead before she turns toward the door. I follow, closing it with practiced care.
The hallway stretches before us, moonlight filtering through arched windows. Ada wraps her arms around herself, her honey-blonde hair gleaming silver in the darkness. The space between us crackles with unspoken words.
"Thank you." Her voice barely carries above a whisper. "For staying. And for coming at all-"
I shake my head. "Ada, I don't need to know what happened in your past. But I want you to know that I don't want anything to happen to you or Rose."
I want to protect them. I've had that ache in my chest since the second I saw them, and I get that it is suspicious to Ada that I could be this selfless - but I'm not really. I'm doing this for my own shattered heart, to keep Rose from being another child gone missing, than anything else.
Her eyes finally meet mine, warm brown searching golden. Something shifts in her expression – recognition, perhaps, that I'm not the man she's running from.
"I know," she murmurs.
She moves to step past me, but hesitates. Her fingers reach out, brushing against mine lightly. The contact sends electricity racing up my arm.
"Goodnight, Dezoth."
My name on her lips sounds like a prayer. She turns away, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor as she heads toward her room. The scent of herbs and sunshine lingers in her wake.
I flex my fingers, still feeling the ghost of her touch. The hallway suddenly feels colder, emptier without her presence.