Page 4

4

ROLFO

I pace the hallway like a caged kilmar, each step calculated yet tense. Seven paces one direction, turn, seven paces back. The floorboards protest under my boots, but I barely register the sound over the groans coming from the bedroom.

Every pained sound from Aurelie tears through me like a blade between the ribs. It shouldn't. I barely know her—this broken woman I found huddled in an alley just hours ago. Yet here she is, fighting for her life in my spare bedroom while I wear tracks in my floor.

I nod, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth might crack. Through the open doorway, I glimpse Aurelie as Ada helps her onto her side, arranging pillows to support her swollen belly.

"Just breathe through it," Ada murmurs, her voice a gentle stream against Aurelie's ragged gasps. "That's it. Focus on my voice."

Aurelie's skin is moon-pale against the dark bedsheets, but her hazel eyes are focused, determined. A fighter, even at the brink.

My fists clench at my sides, nails digging half-moons into my palms. The restless energy builds under my skin until I could tear this house apart with my bare hands. I need to do something, not stand here listening to her pain while memories of Mara's final moments superimpose themselves over Aurelie's struggle.

A sharp knock at the door cuts through my thoughts.

I cross the room in four long strides and yank it open, already knowing who stands on the other side. Dezoth doesn't wait for an invitation, pushing past me with practiced authority, his golden eyes scanning every corner of my home.

"You've picked up another one," he mutters, nostrils flaring slightly as he catches Aurelie's scent. His obsidian hair is pulled back with that ridiculous silver cord he always wears, not a strand out of place despite the long day I know he's had. His lips twitch. "Not that I can blame you."

"She was pregnant. Bleeding. What was I supposed to do?" The words come out clipped, defensive.

Dezoth raises a brow. "I'm assuming she's escaped?"

"I think so. The mark on her arm is clear enough."

He nods, rubbing at his jaw. "Then it's a good thing you found her."

Possessiveness claws at my chest. "He won't get her."

"Then we'll protect her." Dezoth studies me for a moment, something shifting behind those predatory eyes. "I'll circle the perimeter. Can't be too careful." He moves toward the door, all efficient purpose. "Get your weapons ready. I'll check for signs they've tracked her here."

I grab my blade from its hook by the door and follow him out onto the porch. The night air carries traces of smoke and spice from the market square, but nothing that shouldn't be there. No unfamiliar scents, no movement in the shadows.

We circle my modest property in silence, checking the fence line, the small gate, the trees beyond. Nothing disturbs the quiet night except distant sounds from the city proper.

"Clear," Dezoth says finally, sheathing his own blade with a practiced motion. He gives a small, approving grunt. "She's lucky it was you who found her."

I don't respond. Lucky isn't what I feel, standing here with the weight of responsibility settling over me like a shroud. This isn't just about offering shelter anymore. This is about standing between a vulnerable woman and whatever forces might come hunting her.

I feel like I'm standing on a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath my feet, with no way back and no clear path forward.

I slip back inside, my movements deliberately slow and quiet as I cross the threshold. The air feels different now—heavier, charged with the electric anticipation of new life struggling to enter the world. I hover in the doorway of the bedroom, unwilling to intrude but equally unable to turn away.

Aurelie's gaze finds mine across the room. Her hazel eyes, bright with pain and glossy with unshed tears, lock onto me with surprising clarity. Unlike so many humans who cower at the sight of my silver, reflective eyes, she doesn't flinch away. Instead, she seems to study me with equal parts caution and... something else. Something that makes my chest tighten in a way I haven't felt in years.

Ada moves with practiced efficiency around the bed, her honey-blonde braid swinging as she arranges clean cloths and a basin of water on the bedside table. The quiet confidence in her movements speaks of experience I hadn't expected from her.

"You're doing wonderfully," she murmurs to Aurelie, dabbing at the young woman's forehead with a damp cloth. "This little one is certainly determined to meet you today."

Aurelie's laugh is barely more than an exhale, but it transforms her face momentarily, revealing the woman she might have been without all the fear and pain etched into her features. "Stubborn. Like me."

The sound hits me in the gut with unexpected force. I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest to hide the way my hands have started to tremble.

"Perimeter's clear," I announce, my voice rougher than intended. "Dezoth's keeping watch outside."

Ada glances up, her warm brown eyes taking my measure. "Good. We'll need that peace for what's coming." She returns her attention to Aurelie, speaking softly. "Our silver-eyed guardian here probably looks terrifying, but he's got the gentlest hands of any demon I've met. Fixed my Rose's favorite doll last night with those big claws of his."

Another small laugh escapes Aurelie before it collapses into a groan as a contraction takes hold. Her fingers twist in the bedsheets, knuckles white with strain.

I take an instinctive step forward before catching myself, unsure of my place here. "Need anything?" The words come out gruff, awkward.

"Just your intimidating presence at the door," Ada replies without looking up. "Makes us feel safer knowing you're there."

Safer. The word echoes in my mind. When was the last time anyone felt safer because of me? Guards inspire fear, not comfort. Yet these women, these humans who have every reason to distrust my kind, seem to draw some strange reassurance from my presence.

Aurelie's eyes find mine again when the pain subsides. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "For finding me."

The simple gratitude hits harder than any physical blow I've taken in combat. I give a short nod, unable to form a proper response around the tightness in my throat.

"He's not much for words," Ada tells her with a conspiratorial smile. "But I think he's grown rather fond of collecting strays." She wrings out another cloth and places it on Aurelie's forehead. "He's been good to me and my daughter since Dezoth found us the same way, half-starved and desperate."

"Someone should teach you the meaning of 'classified information,'" I growl, but there's no heat behind it. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"As what? The most terrifying softie in the guard?" Ada's retort earns another small laugh from Aurelie.

I feel my lips twitch despite myself. "Keep it up and I'll stop fixing your daughter's toys."

"You wouldn't dare. She has you wrapped around her little finger."

I don't deny it. Rose had somehow burrowed under my defenses with her gap-toothed smile and endless questions about my weapons.

Aurelie watches our exchange, something shifting in her expression. The wariness doesn't vanish—I wouldn't expect it to after whatever torment she's escaped from—but something in her posture eases slightly. Her breathing steadies between contractions.

She's starting to believe I mean no harm. It's a fragile, tentative trust—one I refuse to break.

I settle more firmly against the doorframe, a silent sentinel. "I'll be right here," I say quietly. "For as long as you need."