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A hint of amusement flashes across his face. "Freedom. Don't you want it?"
I turn away from him to trace my finger along the glowing petal of a nearby flower. Its light pulses in response to my touch, as if alive. "Freedom is a fairy tale they tell children," I say, keeping my voice light. "Like true love or happy endings."
"Cynical for someone so young."
"Experience, not age, breeds cynicism." I glance back at him. "And I've had plenty of experience with your kind."
He doesn't flinch at the accusation in my tone. Instead, he steps closer, not invading my space but close enough that I can catch his scent—something unexpectedly clean, like mountain air after a storm.
"Yet you've never tried your tricks on me," he observes, tilting his head. "Why is that?"
The question catches me off guard. He's right. With every other demon—the captain, Asmodeus, the guards—I play my part: the seductive human, the charming pet, whatever mask will get me what I need. But with Vael, I've never even attempted it.
"Maybe you're not worth the effort," I lie, refusing to examine the real reason.
His laugh is unexpected—a deep, rumbling sound that seems to vibrate through the garden. "You're a terrible liar, Trinity."
"And you're unusually interested in a human's motivations." I cross my arms, studying him with genuine curiosity. "Most demons don't bother trying to understand us beyond our... utility."
"I'm not most demons."
"So I've noticed." The words slip out before I can stop them, honest in a way I rarely allow myself to be.
Something shifts in his expression—a softening around those predatory eyes. It triggers a flutter in my stomach that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with something far more dangerous: attraction.
I shouldn't feel this pull toward him. He's a demon—a member of the race that enslaved me, that keeps my people in dungeons. But there's something about the way he looks at me, like he's trying to solve a puzzle rather than assess a possession, that makes my pulse quicken.
"What would you do with it?" he asks quietly.
"With what?"
"Freedom. If you had it."
I laugh bitterly. "What a question. I'd..." The words die on my lips. What would I do? I've spent so long just trying to survive that I've never dared to imagine a life beyond these walls. "I don't know," I admit finally. "Isn't that pathetic? I can't even dream properly anymore."
Vael takes another step closer. "Dreams can be rebuilt."
I look up at him, suddenly aware of how close he is, how his towering frame blocks out the garden around us. But instead of feeling trapped, I feel... sheltered. It's a dangerous thought.
"Why are you really here, Vael?" My voice emerges softer than intended.
"I've been watching you," he admits. "Not just tonight. You're... different from what I expected."
"Different how?"
"You care about the others. The human women. You put yourself at risk for them." His gaze is penetrating, seeing past my carefully constructed defenses. "It's not a survival instinct. It's something else."
I swallow hard. "Maybe I'm just cultivating allies."
"No," he says with certainty. "It's compassion. Something rare in this place. Rarer still in someone fighting so hard to survive."
The understanding in his voice threatens to crack something inside me, something I've kept frozen just to endure. I reach for my usual tools—a flirtatious smile, a coy look—but they feel wrong with him. False. For the first time in years, I want someone to see the real me, not the mask.
"I don't know how to be any other way," I whisper, the most honest thing I've said in years.
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VAEL