Page 25 of The Demon’s Little Girl

LIORA

T he afternoon light streams through the kitchen windows as I work at the large wooden table, chopping zynthra for tonight's stew.

I've started to help in the kitchen again, though Akira gives me a lot of space and doesn't press with questions.

And she keeps Tom away because we both know he'd ask them.

Nalla sits in her high chair nearby, contentedly mashing bits of soft brimbark between her tiny fingers while babbling to herself. She's discovered that dropping pieces on the floor makes satisfying splat sounds, and she grins each time one hits the stone.

"Nalla, those are for eating, not decorating," I murmur, though I can't help smiling at her pleased expression. She responds with a string of nonsense syllables that sound almost like a defense of her artistic choices.

The rhythmic motion of the knife against the cutting board is soothing.

Familiar. This kitchen has become a sanctuary of sorts—a place where I can lose myself in simple tasks and pretend that the careful peace I've built here is permanent.

That nothing will disturb the fragile happiness I've found again.

I'm reaching for another zynthra when the voice carries down the hallway from the main entrance. Deep, gravelly, with that particular cadence that I recognize instantly despite trying to forget it for two years.

"Rovak, good to see you again. I have those bloodstone samples you requested."

The knife slips from my suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering against the table.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid as ice floods my veins.

That voice. His voice. The same smooth tone he'd used to flatter me before dragging me into that room.

The same gravelly laugh that had followed me into nightmares for months.

Xharn. He's here. In this house.

My vision narrows to a pinprick as panic claws its way up my throat. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too exposed. Anyone could walk in. He could walk in and see me, see Nalla, and then?—

"Mama?" Nalla's voice sounds far away despite her being right beside me. She must sense my distress because her babbling has stopped, replaced by that worried little sound she makes when something's wrong.

I force my frozen limbs to move, scooping her out of the high chair with trembling hands. She's warm and solid against my chest, real and precious and mine to protect. The thought galvanizes me into action.

"We're going to play hiding," I whisper against her dark curls, trying to keep my voice level even as my heart hammers against my ribs. "Quiet game, baby. Like we used to play."

Nalla seems to understand, or at least she settles against me without protest as I edge toward the kitchen's back entrance. My bare feet make no sound on the stone floor, but every step feels impossibly loud. The voices from the main hall drift closer as I slip into the servants' corridor.

"—quality has improved significantly since the last shipment," Xharn is saying, his words carrying that false charm I remember too well. "I think you'll be pleased with the consistency."

Rovak's response is muffled by distance, but the sound of his voice should be comforting. Instead, it only makes panic spike higher. He doesn't know. He has no idea what kind of monster he's doing business with, what that creature did to me in his own house while he was away.

I press myself against the wall, Nalla clutched tight to my chest as I try to control my ragged breathing.

The corridor stretches before me, dimly lit and lined with doors leading to storage rooms and servant quarters.

I need to get farther away, somewhere Xharn won't accidentally stumble across us if he decides to wander.

Each step down the hallway feels like a monumental effort.

My legs shake beneath me, threatening to give out entirely as fragments of memory assault me.

The weight of him pinning me down. The burn of his hands on my skin.

The way he'd smiled while he hurt me, like it was a game he particularly enjoyed.

By the time I reach the small storage room at the far end of the corridor, I can barely breathe. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as I fumble with the door handle, finally managing to slip inside and pull it shut behind us.

The room is cramped and windowless, filled with shelves of linens and cleaning supplies. The only light comes from the thin line beneath the door, casting everything in shadow. It feels like being trapped, like being held down, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

Nalla squirms in my arms, confused by the sudden change. Her small hands pat my face, and I realize tears are streaming down my cheeks. When did I start crying?

"Shh, baby," I breathe, settling onto the floor with her in my lap. The cool stone should be grounding, but instead it reminds me of another floor, in another room, where I lay broken and bleeding while convinced my world was ending.

My breathing comes in short, sharp gasps that burn my lungs. The air feels too thick, like I'm drowning on dry land. Nalla makes a worried sound and reaches up to touch my face again, her tiny fingers gentle against my skin.

She's so perfect. So innocent. The one pure thing to come from that nightmare. Looking at her usually fills me with fierce love and determination, but right now all I can think about is what Xharn would do if he saw her. If he realized...

The thought sends fresh waves of terror crashing over me. He can't know about Nalla. Can never know that his violence created something so beautiful and precious. Because if he ever put those pieces together, if he ever tried to take her or hurt her?—

I double over, wrapping myself around Nalla as sobs tear from my throat.

The sound is muffled by her soft hair, but she starts to fuss anyway, picking up on my distress.

I need to be stronger than this. Need to protect her.

But the memory of his hands, his weight, the way he'd whispered that Rovak would never want me now that I was ruined—it's all crashing back with devastating force.

"Mama?" Nalla pats my arm, her voice small and concerned.

"Mama's okay," I lie, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Just... just tired."

But I'm not okay. I'm drowning in two-year-old terror, in the certainty that my presence here puts everyone I care about at risk.

If Xharn remembered me, if he said something to Rovak about the human he'd "enjoyed" during his last visit.

.. The shame would kill me. The knowledge that Rovak would finally understand why I'm not worthy of the kindness he's shown me.

Time moves strangely in the dark room. It could be minutes or hours before I hear footsteps in the corridor outside. Heavy boots that make my entire body tense with renewed panic until they stop outside the door.

"Liora?" Avenor's voice is muffled through the wood, careful and concerned. "Are you in there?"

Relief floods through me so suddenly it leaves me lightheaded. Avenor. Safe, sharp-tongued Avenor who's never treated me like something fragile to be handled carefully. Who became my friend when I thought I was beyond friendship.

"Yes," I manage, my voice hoarse from crying.

The door opens slowly, spilling warm light into our hiding place. Avenor's silhouette fills the doorway, his gray skin pale in the corridor's torchlight. Those navy eyes take in my tear-stained face and the way I'm curled protectively around Nalla with swift assessment.

"What happened?" He steps into the room, leaving the door open behind him. His presence feels safe, grounding in a way that helps slow my racing pulse.

"Nothing." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I can't tell him the truth. Can't admit why the sound of Xharn's voice sent me running like a coward. "I just... needed some quiet. It sounded like someone was here to see Rovak."

Avenor's expression clearly says he doesn't believe me for a second, but he doesn't push. Instead, he crouches down so we're at eye level, his sharp features softening slightly.

"Xharn's here on business. He'll be gone within the hour."

The confirmation that I heard correctly makes my stomach lurch again. He notices my reaction, those too-perceptive eyes narrowing as he takes in the way I instinctively tighten my hold on Nalla.

I nod, not really sure what to say. "I just… just needed some quiet," I repeat because I can think of nothing better.

Avenor studies me for a long moment, and I can practically see him cataloging everything about me right now. The way my hands shake, the tear tracks on my cheeks, the fact that I'm hiding in a storage room like a trapped animal. But whatever he's thinking, he keeps it to himself.

"All right," he says finally, rising to his feet. "Stay here until you're ready, if that makes you feel better. I'll come find you when the coast is clear."

He pauses in the doorway, silver hair catching the light as he looks back at me. There's something in his expression—concern mixed with a frustration that suggests he knows I'm not telling him everything.

"Liora... if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here. You know that, right?"

The kindness in his voice nearly breaks me apart all over again.

Because I want to tell him. Want to give voice to the poison that's been festering inside me for two years.

But the words stick in my throat, trapped by shame and terror and the lingering echo of Xharn's voice promising that Rovak would cast me aside if he ever learned the truth.

"I know," I whisper. "Thank you."

Avenor nods once, then steps back into the corridor. His footsteps fade as he walks away, leaving Nalla and me alone in the dim storage room once more. She's been remarkably quiet through this whole exchange, those pale gold eyes wide and watchful as she absorbs the tension she can't understand.

"Mama?" she asks softly, one small hand resting against my chest.

"I'm okay, little star." I smooth her dark curls, trying to project a confidence I don't feel. "Mama just needed a little break."

But as I sit there in the shadows with my daughter warm against my chest, listening to the distant murmur of voices that includes the one from my nightmares, I know I'm not better. Know that the careful peace I've built here is more fragile than I ever wanted to admit.

Because Xharn is in this house, breathing the same air, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to run again. To take Nalla and disappear before he can destroy what little happiness I've managed to find.

The only thing stopping me is the memory of Rovak's smile this morning. The way he'd looked at Nalla with such genuine affection, the careful tenderness in his touch when he'd helped put the necklace around my throat.

I can't lose that again. Can't lose him again, even if keeping this secret might eventually kill me.

So I'll hide in this storage room until the monster leaves. I'll compose myself and wash the tear stains from my face. And I'll pretend that hearing Xharn's voice didn't just remind me exactly how easily everything I care about could be torn away.

Again.