Page 12

12

ROLFO

I 'm standing by the window, Sephy tucked in the crook of my arm, when I hear the distinctive creak of my front door. My hand instinctively reaches toward the blade at my hip before the familiar scent hits me—rain-soaked leather and that distinct metallic polish Dezoth uses on his equipment.

"Didn't expect for you to come by today" I say without turning, my attention focused on the tiny bundle against my chest. Sephy's breathing is steady, her silver-blonde wisps tickling my bare forearm.

The door closes with a soft click. Boot steps approach, measured and deliberate as always.

"Reports came in about unusual activity near the merchant district." Dezoth's voice fills the room, deep and controlled. "Thought I'd check if you'd heard anything before I headed there."

I turn finally, finding him standing ramrod straight just beyond the threshold to my living room. Rain glistens on his obsidian hair, drops still clinging to the shoulders of his guard-issue coat. Even off-duty, he carries himself like he's perpetually on parade—shoulders squared, chin slightly elevated. Only his golden eyes betray anything beyond duty, flicking down to the infant in my arms.

"Nothing on my end," I shrug. "Aurelie's resting, so I've been here all day."

Dezoth has been keeping an eye out for anyone looking for Aurelie, and I've appreciated his discretion through this.

"She seems healthy," he observes, taking a half-step closer. "Ada says she's doing well."

Something shifts in his expression, a softening so subtle most wouldn't catch it. But I've worked alongside Dezoth long enough to read the microscopic changes in his demeanor. There's a story there—one he's never shared fully, though rumors circle the barracks about a human woman from his past.

I nod, feeling oddly protective in a way that feels foreign yet instinctual. Sephy stirs against me, making that soft cooing sound that does strange things to my chest. He may be great with Rose, but he's never been around an infant before.

"Would you like to hold her?" The question surprises even me. Dezoth isn't exactly known for his warm and cuddly personality. In fact, I've seen him make new recruits nearly piss themselves with just a look. But I've also seen him host sparkle tea parties with his little girl.

He hesitates, golden eyes unreadable. Then he extends his hands, the ritual markings on his forearms shifting as he removes his gloves and tucks them into his belt.

"She's not as fragile as she looks," I say, carefully transferring her small form into his waiting hands.

Dezoth accepts her with surprising gentleness, large hands cradling her tiny body with practiced ease. He rocks her once, twice, his expression transforming in a way I've never witnessed before. The hard lines around his eyes soften, and something almost like longing flashes across his features before disappearing behind his usual mask.

"She has demon blood," he murmurs, one finger ghosting over her delicate cheek. "Strong, from the feel of it."

"That's what Ada says. Thinks her father must be high-ranking."

Dezoth's eyes narrow slightly. "High enough to come looking for them both."

I nod, watching him with the baby. And I see it in the way he holds her, in the careful movement as he adjusts her blanket. No one holds an infant like that without practice or memory.

But I remember how Dezoth lost a child. How he knows the pain and grief I harbor and still he took in Ada and Rose. He was always meant to be a father and now he has a sweet daughter who covers everything in glitter.

Sephy squirms in his arms, tiny fists emerging from her swaddling. One catches on Dezoth's silver cord, tugging it loose. His hair falls forward, partially obscuring his face as he looks down at her.

"She has your number already," I say, the corner of my mouth lifting.

"Smart girl." Something that might almost be a smile touches his lips. "Takes after her mother in that regard."

The mention of Aurelie makes me glance toward the hallway where she sleeps. Ever since the other night when we admitted our pasts, there's been a new level of understanding between us.

And more tension than I can handle. I've felt protective over Aurelie since I found her. But more and more often, I find myself wanting to touch her, even finding reasons to. She's beautiful in a way I can't stop thinking about, and guilt often fills me when I do. That's not why she's here.

"How long do you plan to keep them here?" Dezoth asks, his voice lowered. His words only remind me how wrong my thoughts are.

"As long as they need."

Dezoth gives me a knowing look. One that reminds me how he said the same thing about the woman who is now his mate.

"I think we should step outside," I say quietly, nodding toward the door. "Don't want to wake her if she's still sleeping."

Dezoth follows my lead without question, transferring Sephy back to my arms with careful movements. The weight of her in my arms settles something in me—a feeling I'm still getting used to.

On the porch, the afternoon air hangs heavy with moisture from the earlier rain. I lean against the railing, cradling Sephy while looking out toward the dense line of trees that marks the edge of my property. Their dark silhouettes stand like sentinels against the permanently red sky of Ikoth.

"Her master was Kaelith Shadowfall," I say, my voice low despite being outside. The name tastes foul on my tongue. "Aurelie's been his... property since she was nine. Started using her when she turned fourteen."

Dezoth's jaw tightens, golden eyes narrowing to predatory slits. "The son of Councilor Shadowfall." Not a question.

"The same. High commander of the southern defense forces."

"I've crossed paths with him. He's... politically connected."

I run a thumb gently over Sephy's cheek as she sleeps, marveling at how someone so small could weigh so heavily on my conscience. "He was going to kill Aurelie. Take Sephy and dispose of her." The words taste like ash on my tongue.

"And you think that he still plans that?"

"I think now we know he has resources and is coming after them." I turn to face Dezoth fully. "He has his men posing as concerned relatives, searching the human quarters. Three days ago, they extended the search to the merchant district."

"Moving outward in a spiral pattern," Dezoth observes. "Systematic. Military."

"He knows what he's doing. Worse, he has friends in every level of command." I shift my weight, feeling the aged wood creak beneath my boots. "If he finds her?—"

"He'll hurt them both." Dezoth's eyes flick down to Sephy.

"Demon blood. She'd be a prize, not just property." The thought makes my grip tighten instinctively before I force myself to relax. "Powerful bloodlines have been known to manifest early in mixed offspring."

Dezoth turns to face the forest, placing his hands on the railing. His ritual markings catch the dim light—symbols of mastery, of status. Status that could be useful.

"I've been watching his movements," he says after a pause. "His unit rotates to border duty in three days. He'll be gone for a standard cycle—twenty days."

I raise an eyebrow. "You've been tracking him?"

"I track all potential threats." His tone makes it clear this is nothing special, but I know better. Dezoth doesn't waste time on meaningless surveillance.

"I can't hide them forever. Sooner or later, he'll expand the search this far."

Dezoth's knuckles whiten against the railing. "Then we make sure he doesn't."

The words hang between us—not a promise or bravado, but a simple statement of fact. Like a weather report or duty assignment. His certainty startles me.

"You hardly know them," I say, watching his profile.

"I know you." He turns, meeting my eyes with that unnerving directness he's known for. "That's enough."

Something tight in my chest loosens at his words. I've spent my life surrounded by cruelty and indifference, and yet somehow I've found myself in the company of demons who understand loyalty. Who understand me.

We head back inside, the conversation settling between us with the weight of a blood oath. Sephy stirs in my arms, tiny eyelids fluttering but not opening.

I step into the main room and freeze. Aurelie stands in the kitchen doorway, hair loose around her shoulders, wearing one of my old shirts that hangs past her knees. She looks better than she did even yesterday—some color returning to her cheeks, her hazel eyes more alert.

Dezoth notices her too, his posture shifting subtly. Not threatening, but not relaxed either. They've never formally met.

"You must be Captain Blackwood," she says, voice soft but steady. "Ada mentioned you."

I cross to her, suddenly aware of the contrast—Sephy in my arms, Dezoth's intimidating presence behind me, and Aurelie looking both fragile and fierce in the doorway.

"Dezoth came to check on things," I explain, transferring Sephy to her with an almost reluctant gentleness.

Aurelie takes her daughter, eyes never leaving Dezoth. I recognize the look—the calculation of threat, the assessment of danger. It's how prey animals watch predators, determining if flight is necessary.

Dezoth inclines his head in greeting. "Miss Morvain."

Her eyes widen slightly at the use of her surname.

"Ada has told me about you and your daughter. I want to assure you that we all just want to help you."

Dezoth turns to me then, and something passes between us—a look that says more than words could manage. I recognize it from battlefields and alleyway skirmishes, from the moments when your life depends on another's loyalty. There's no speech. No lecture. Just that look—a silent agreement between old soldiers.

If this is my path now, he will stand by me. As simple and complicated as that.

"I should return to my duties," he says, already moving toward the door. "My sister mentioned bringing Rose by tomorrow. She's been asking about the baby."

After he's gone, Aurelie looks at me, questions filling her eyes.

"Demons looking out for demons," I say with a half-smile. "Family means more than blood around here."