Chapter 6 #3
Cassia bit the inside of her cheek, torn between mortification and a rising tide of helpless laughter.
The children meant no harm. They were simply being children—blunt, unfiltered, and brutally honest. And Ark, who could intimidate half the city without trying, was being roasted by a pack of orphans over missing horns and his age.
He caught her eye. “I came here hoping for a boost of confidence,” he said dryly. “Instead, I’ve been called old and hornless in less than thirty minutes.”
She lost the battle. A laugh escaped before she could stop it—bright and unguarded, the kind she hadn’t realized she still had in her.
“I am thirty-three,” he told them. “I imagine that must seem incredulously old to you.”
Imogen blurted, “When you don’t have horns, absolutely! Even Devlin has horns, and he’s only a boy!”
“I’m not a boy, I’m almost thirteen,” Devlin muttered into his teacup.
Cassia sighed. Goodness, she loved these children—even when they were determined to embarrass her in front of demon aristocracy. “That’s enough pestering our guest for one day,” she told them.
“It’s not pestering,” Imogen huffed. “It’s an important question.”
Ark seemed entirely unfazed. “I’ve learned to hide my horns with glamour. That’s why you can’t see them.”
Imogen’s eyes widened. “But why?”
Cassia shot the girl a warning look. “Imogen—”
“No, it’s alright,” Ark interrupted, his gaze settling back on the girl. After a beat, he answered, “Because it is easier to go about my day without people staring.”
Cassia looked up sharply, surprised that Ark had taken the child’s question seriously. He didn’t brush her off. Instead, he gave an answer that felt . . . honest.
Imogen blinked. “Why would they stare?”
“Because a demon’s horns attract attention. People notice them. And when people notice something, they make assumptions.”
Devlin frowned, rubbing a hand over his own small horns. “That’s stupid.”
Ark chuckled. “I agree, but it happens.”
Imogen seemed to mull this over. “You hide them so you can blend in?”
“That’s one reason. Another is that, sometimes, it’s nice to decide when to be seen.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Devlin, however, was still watching Ark closely, his expression unreadable. Cassia smiled inwardly. As a half-demon, Devlin had rarely had the chance to interact with a pureblood. His curiosity was only natural.
“I have a question,” the boy said, loud enough to garner the attention of the other children.
Ark placed his cup down on his saucer and looked at Devlin.
“What are your intentions for Miss Aura?” the boy asked.
The table quieted. Cassia, mid-sip, nearly choked. Several of the younger children turned wide, expectant eyes toward Ark, their cakes momentarily forgotten.
“Devlin,” she scolded, setting down her cup. “That’s a personal matter between myself and the gentleman.”
Ark lifted a hand. “That’s a fair question.” He said it calmly, as if Devlin had asked something entirely reasonable.
Devlin’s brows lifted. Cassia could see he hadn’t expected Ark to take him seriously. But he recovered quickly, crossing his arms. “Well?”
Heat crept up her neck. She should’ve known this would happen. The children were endlessly curious, and Devlin in particular had a habit of cutting straight to the heart of things.
But still, Ark could lie. That would be the easiest path. He could say what the children wanted to hear—some honeyed, romantic line about how he was enchanted by their dear Miss Aura. Or that he was there only as a friend, nothing more.
Instead, he met Devlin’s gaze head-on and said, “I’m getting to know her.”
A murmur went through the children.
Devlin frowned. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. She’s getting to know me. I’m getting to know her.”
“That’s underwhelming, isn’t it?” Devlin quipped.
Imogen made a small, dissatisfied sound. “And not very romantic.”
“Good relationships don’t start with romance,” Ark said easily. “They start with understanding.”
Cassia should’ve been relieved. It was, after all, the truth—or close enough. But her stomach turned over in a way she wasn’t expecting. The children, however, were not so easily placated.
“So . . . you like her or not?” Devlin pressed.
“I find Miss Aura exceedingly likeable.”
Imogen huffed. “Of course she is. Now you’re just avoiding the question.”
Cassia shot Ark a look over the rim of her cup, torn between amusement and embarrassment. Ark, for his part, only gave her a small smile.
Devlin leaned forward, still watching Ark closely. “But you do know, don’t you?”
Ark lifted a brow. “Know what?”
“If you hurt her, we’ll make you regret it.”
Cassia flashed the boy a warning look. “Devlin, there’s absolutely no need to be rude.”
Ark, however, didn’t seem offended. If anything, his expression shifted, suffused with a warmth she hadn’t seen before, as if Devlin’s protectiveness had unlocked a door she didn’t know existed.
He told her, “Devlin is not being rude. I would expect nothing less. That’s what a close-knit family does: protect each other.”
Devlin held his gaze a moment longer, measuring the weight of his words. Then, with a slow, decisive nod, he sat back and resumed his tea.
Across the table, Cassia finally allowed herself to exhale.
So, that’s how it is, then.
Ark had just passed Starlight’s most important test.