Page 25 of Demon Daddy’s Little Girl

25

ADA

S oft sheets cradle my aching body as sunlight streams through gauzy curtains. The room spins less now, though every breath sends sharp pains through my ribs. I focus on the ornate ceiling patterns until the dizziness passes.

"Mama, look what I made!" Rose bounces onto the bed, her violet eyes sparkling. She thrusts a string of wildflowers under my nose, their sweet fragrance mingling with the sharp herbal poultices Vashti applied earlier.

"Careful with your mother, little one." Vashti's melodic voice drifts from the doorway. Her tall frame glides into the room, carrying a tray with steaming tea. "She needs rest to heal."

"Sorry." Rose's bottom lip trembles. She settles beside me with exaggerated care, her tiny fingers arranging the flower chain across my pillow.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart." I stroke her honey-blonde curls, so like my own. "Did you pick these from the garden?"

"Uh-huh! Miss Vashti showed me where the prettiest ones grow." Rose beams at our hostess. "And she says when you're better, we can plant our own!"

Vashti sets the tray on the bedside table, her jewel-toned dress rustling. "I thought you might enjoy that. I've noticed your talent with herbs."

My chest tightens, not from pain. The casual kindness in her golden eyes threatens to undo my careful defenses. "You've done too much already."

"Nonsense." She perches on the edge of the bed, her silver-streaked hair catching the light. "Besides, Rose has been wonderful company. She helped me organize my entire tea collection yesterday."

"By color!" Rose announces proudly. "The purple ones smell the best."

"That's because they're infused with nightbloom essence." Vashti winks at her. "Perfect for sweet dreams."

I watch them interact, noting how Vashti's natural warmth draws out Rose's playful side. My daughter deserves this - safety, comfort, the freedom to just be a child. But experience has taught me such peace never lasts.

"Time for your medicine." Vashti hands me a delicate cup. "Don't worry, I added honey to mask the bitter herbs."

The herbal tea warms my throat, its sweetness barely masking the medicinal tang. Vashti's steady hands help me sit up straighter as she checks the bandages wrapped around my ribs.

"He didn't do anything that won't heal." Her fingers ghost over tender spots with practiced care. "Thank the Seven for that."

"Thank you ." I wince as she applies fresh poultice. "Where did you learn such skilled healing?"

Rose curls up at the foot of the bed, absorbed in rearranging her flower chain. Vashti's golden eyes cloud with memory as she works.

"After my husband died, I threw myself into studying healing arts. I couldn't save him, but..." She secures the bandage with nimble movements. "I refused to feel that helpless again."

"I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate.

"Life has a way of forcing us to become stronger." Her smile holds understanding rather than pity. "Like you, running with a child, surviving against impossible odds."

My throat tightens. "Some days I wasn't sure we would."

"But you did." Vashti squeezes my hand. "You protected Rose. Got her to safety. That takes incredible courage."

"Mama's the bravest." Rose pipes up, crawling closer to snuggle against my side. "She fought off bad guys and made magic potions to help us hide."

"Clever." Vashti's eyes sparkle with approval. "Using herbology for protection rather than just healing. I'd love to learn some of your techniques."

"I could show you." The offer slips out before I can stop it. "It's the least I can do after everything."

"I'd like that." She begins gathering the used bandages. "We survivors need to stick together, share our knowledge."

"Did you fight bad guys too?" Rose asks, violet eyes wide.

"In my own way." Vashti smooths Rose's curls. "Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we fight inside ourselves, learning to trust again."

Her words strike a chord deep within me. Here in this sun-filled room, with Rose safe beside me and Vashti's gentle presence, I feel something I haven't in months - hope.

"When's Cappy Dez coming back?" Rose tugs at my sleeve, her violet eyes bright with concern. "He promised to teach me more sparkly magic."

My heart clenches at her unwavering faith in Dezoth. Despite my reservations about demons, I can't deny the gentleness he's shown my daughter.

"Soon, sweetheart. He's helping keep us safe."

"But he's already safe! He's the biggest and strongest." Rose spreads her arms wide to demonstrate. "Nothing can hurt him."

Vashti's musical laugh fills the room. "My brother does cut an imposing figure. Though you should see him when Rose convinced him to wear that flower crown."

"It matched his eyes!" Rose bounces on the bed. "And he said real warriors wear flowers because they're not scared of looking pretty."

The image of the towering demon lord adorned in daisies brings an unexpected smile to my lips. "He said that?"

"Mhmm! And he showed me how to make the petals float." Rose cups her hands, face scrunching in concentration. A single flower from her chain rises shakily into the air. "See? Just like Cappy Dez taught me!"

Pride and fear war in my chest as I watch my daughter's growing magical abilities. Her demon heritage shines through in moments like these, reminding me why we can never stop running.

"Mama, don't be scared." Rose drops the flower and crawls into my lap, careful of my injuries. "Cappy Dez won't let the bad demons find us. He promised."

"Did he now?" I stroke her curls, marveling at her perceptiveness.

"With his special warrior handshake." She holds up her tiny pinky. "He said Pierce ladies are under his protection, and warriors never break their word."

Vashti nods solemnly. "Dezoth takes his oaths very seriously. Especially pinky promises to brave little girls."

Rose beams at the title, and I find myself drawing strength from her absolute conviction. My daughter, who's seen too much darkness yet still believes in the good in others, teaches me more about courage than any battle ever could.

Eventually, Rose curls into my side to sleep and Vashti finishes with my poultice and tea. The room falls quiet as Vashti excuses herself, leaving Rose dozing against my side. Her peaceful breaths remind me of simpler times, before we knew the true danger that stalked us.

My fingers trace the scar along my collarbone - a permanent reminder of our desperate escape. Yet here we are, sheltered in a demon's home. Not just any demon, but one who made a pinky promise to my daughter.

"Mama?" Rose stirs, blinking up at me. "Are you thinking about Cappy Dez?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You get this funny wrinkle." She pokes between my eyebrows. "Like when you're trying to solve a really hard puzzle."

A laugh escapes me. "You're too observant for your own good."

"He gets the same wrinkle when he's worried about us." Rose sits up, her violet eyes serious. "That's why he checks all the windows and doors three times before bed. And why he taught me the special knock."

My breath catches. I'd noticed the complex security measures, but assumed they were standard for a Guard Captain's home. "Special knock?"

Rose demonstrates a pattern on my knee. "If something scary happens, I knock like this. Then Cappy Dez will know it's me, even if it's dark."

The care behind such a detail strikes me. He didn't just offer us shelter - he's teaching Rose how to stay safe in ways a four-year-old can understand.

"Did you know he has magic marks on his arms?" Rose traces invisible patterns in the air. "They show he's really good at making things. But he says the most important thing he makes is promises."

My throat tightens as pieces click into place. The way he positions himself between us and doorways. How his golden eyes scan every room before letting Rose enter. The quiet efficiency with which he's woven protections into every aspect of our lives.

"He's not like the other demons, is he?" The words come out barely above a whisper.

"Nope!" Rose grins. "He's our demon. That's what Auntie Vashti says."

Our demon. The phrase echoes in my mind, shifting something fundamental in how I see him. Not just a reluctant protector bound by honor, but someone who's chosen to make our safety his priority.

The realization settles like a warm ember, melting years of distrust.