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I nod, though we both know I won't. I've learned more about infant care in the past weeks than most demons learn in a lifetime. I know what my daughters need.
My daughters. The thought still sends a shock through my system.
Trinity lingers at the doorway. "Vael?"
I look up, fighting to keep my expression neutral.
"It's good that you're back." She says it quickly, as if the words might burn if held too long on her tongue, then disappears down the hallway.
I settle into the rocking chair with Kaelin, carefully adjusting my large frame to the human-sized furniture. With one hand, I reach out to rest my palm on Liora's rising chest, connecting myself to both my children at once.
"Your mother is stubborn," I whisper to them. "Almost as stubborn as me."
Kaelin stirs, her tiny face scrunching before relaxing again. I find myself memorizing every detail—the curve of her nose, the exact shade of her eyelashes, the way her fingers curl around mine when I offer my hand.
I don't know how many more moments like this I'll have. Don't know when Trinity will decide she's healed enough, strong enough to start the life of freedom I promised her. The thought cuts deeper than any blade.
Because I desperately hope she doesn't leave.
22
TRINITY
Islip out of the bed, unable to take being in here any longer. The sheets whisper against my skin as I move, my bare feet silent on the cool stone floor. Moonlight filters through the gap in the curtains, painting silver stripes across the floor.
On my way to the nursery, I pause in the hall, peeking through Vael's partially open door. He doesn't want to close it in case the girls need him. I can't help but stare at him, at the way moonlight casts across his sleeping form.
This vulnerability of his while sleeping still startles me. In waking hours, he's all coiled power and sharp edges. But in sleep, the hard lines of his face soften, and I'm left wondering what it might be like to truly belong here.
But I don't belong. Not really.
The nursery door makes no sound as I ease it open, slipping inside to check on the twins. Both sleep peacefully, their tiny chests rising and falling in perfect synchronicity. I brush a finger across Liora's cheek, marveling at how she already has Vael's stubborn chin. Kaelin stirs slightly, her rosebud mouth working in her sleep.
"Sweet dreams," I whisper, willing it to be true for them even if it isn't for me.
Back in the hallway, I pause. The thought of going to Vael's bed—of curling against his warmth—beckons like a siren song. But the lingering tendrils of my nightmare still claw at my consciousness, making me restless.
Instead, I find myself wandering to the kitchen, lighting a single lamp with trembling fingers. The flame casts dancing shadows across the walls as I prepare a cup of meadowmint tea, hoping it might quiet the chaos in my mind.
The same nightmare. Three nights running now.
I settle at the kitchen table, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. Outside, Aerasak's strange, crimson moon bathes everything in bloody light. Even after months here, I still find the alien sky unsettling.
"You're not there anymore," I remind myself, voice barely audible in the quiet kitchen. "You're safe."
But am I? The question lingers as I sip my tea, wincing as it burns my tongue.
My mind drifts back to the nightmare—so vivid I can still smell the smoke, feel the twigs snapping beneath my feet as I ran. In reality, I never had a chance to run. The attack on my village had been swift, efficient. One moment I was hanging laundry to dry, the next I was thrown over a demon's shoulder like a sack of zynthra.
But in my dreams, I always run. Through familiar woods now set ablaze, past the burning shells of homes I'd known all my life. The screams of neighbors, of friends, providing a horrific backdrop to my flight.
And always, always, the sound of pursuit behind me. Heavy footfalls crushing undergrowth. The hot breath of a predator at my neck. Sometimes I glimpse him—the captain, his cruel smile gleaming in the firelight as he stalks me through the inferno.
"You're mine," he'd growl, voice scraping like stone against metal. "You'll always be mine."
I shudder, spilling tea onto the table. Quickly, I mop it up with the sleeve of Vael's tunic, blinking back the burn of unshed tears.
Why now? Why, when I've finally found some measure of peace, do these memories resurface?