Page 16 of The Devil May Care

“We should let the Ember Heir return to his duties,” he says, with a respectful tilt of his head, but dark eyes skip to me as they grip the child harder. Skin pulling white over bone.

Caziel inclines his head in return. No fanfare. No stiffness. Just acknowledgement. We keep walking. I try not to react, but I can’t help it.

“Caziel,”

His name is still warm from the boy’s voice. He glances sideways.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Didn’t mean to—I mean, I know names matter. I didn’t hear it, technically. That didn’t happen.” I swallow. Take a breath. “I can forget I heard it. Ember Heir sir.”

He’s quiet for a moment, a frown pulling the edges of his mouth. “You may use it.”

I blink. “Really?”

“I have already heard yours and I’d prefer you use my name to—you may use it.”

I wait for him to tack on a warning, a stipulation, anything—but he does not.

“Thanks,” I say. “Caziel.”

The name sits strangely on my tongue. Formal, but not stiff. Powerful, but not cold. He wears it like it’s been heavy on his shoulders for a long time. I glance back toward Zhael, the boy who recognized him. He’s waving enthusiastically as his parents herd him away. No fear. Just joy. If Caziel, Ember Heir of Crimson was just a figurehead, the kidmight have known his name, but to feel comfortable running up? To be known on site? That’s familiarity.

“He knew you,” I say.

Caziel doesn’t respond.

“Not just your name,” I add. “He likes you.”

Still nothing.

I look forward again. “That matters.”

“Why?”

“Because kids don’t fake that,” I say. “Animals too. They know when someone is good. Or at least trying to be.”

Another silence stretches between us. But it’s softer this time. It helps to know that, just maybe, I was not wrong to follow him. Or maybe I’m just trying to justify my complete lack of self-preservation skills.

The square feels different now.

Not louder—quieter, somehow, in the way a forest goes silent when something dangerous walks through it. The Daemari still move, still speak and trade and laugh, but it’s more deliberate now. Measured. I can feel their eyes on me even when I don’t meet them—curiosity and wariness twined so tightly they’re indistinguishable.

A woman with onyx skin and hair the color of molten gold pauses mid-conversation as we pass. A vendor who was laughing a moment ago goes still, hand frozen over a pile of jeweled fruit. A pair of guards lean subtly closer to one another, murmuring words I can’t translate but feel down to my bones. The energy around them hums—too alive, too aware—and I realize I’m the variable that doesn’t belong.

Caz doesn’t slow. The crowd parts for him the way water breaks around stone. Cloak sweeping, stride even, utterly unfazed. He was made for this place—this realm that glows and burns and watches. I have to take two steps for every one of his to keep up. When I finally speak, my voice sounds small.

“They don’t like me.”

“They don’t know what to make of you,” he corrects, glancing down, eyes catching the light like flame through smoke. “Most of them have never seen a human.”

The words sink into me like cold water.

“Never?” My brows lift. “Not big on tourism?”

He glances at me. “From the other realms, yes. From outside of Infernalis, from other lands of Nether, yes, but not from other worlds. Not humans. You are an anomaly. They don’t know what to expect.”

“Well, they could maybe be less obvious. I’m about two seconds from crawling into a decorative fountain and pretending to be sculpture.”

“Please abstain.”