Page 46 of The Devil May Care

“She’s human.”

His voice softens. “And yet you’re not the only one who couldn’t look away.”

I narrow my eyes. Solonar takes a step closer. Not threatening. Intimate. He lowers his voice like we’re sharing something private.

“Have you looked at her? Truly looked?”

His tone is dangerous now. Velvet-lined with provocation.

I don’t respond.

“She’s not like us,” he murmurs. “Her softness. Her fragility. That trembling defiance.”

He leans in, just enough.

“Perhaps the Brand looks different on her.”

My jaw tightens.

Solonar studies me, head tilted, mock thoughtful.

“Maybe you missed it. Maybe it’s not on her skin.”

A pause.

Then, with a glint in his eye, “Maybe it’s hidden somewhere you haven’t seen.”

The image he conjures—unspoken but vivid—crashes through my defenses like a weapon. My hands curl into fists.

“Careful,” I say. He’s tried this tack before. It left me rattled, but he did not succeed in whatever his provocation intended. Solonar’s smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He steps back, the heat of him fading like a spell dismissed.

“I only mean to prepare you,” he says, all false innocence. “If she is chosen, there will be no room for… restraint. You’ll have to act.” He looks at me one final time. No amusement now, only calculation. “Or someone else will.”

Then he leaves me alone in the hallway. Surrounded by the weight of what I refused to say.

CHAPTER TWELVE

KAY

Itry not to take it personally. Really, I do. Maybe she was warned. Maybe someone saw us talking too easily. Maybe she’s just afraid. I can’t blame her for that. Fear is one thing this place has no shortage of. But still, there’s something brutal in the way Sarai doesn’t look at me now. Not quite rejection. Worse. Recalibration. Like I’m no longer something human. Just a task. A responsibility she didn’t sign up for.

I’ve felt this shift before. It’s like a current going slack. You’re laughing with someone, leaning into warmth, and then one word, one look, one complication—and suddenly the walls are back up.

You’re not a person anymore. You’re a risk. An obligation. A thing to step around.

My first foster family used to do that. They were careful, friendly, but one too many questions and they’d smile just a little less. Hold me just a little looser. The minute I started getting comfortable I’d see it. That tightness in their posture. The flicker of calculation. The way they’d start speaking to me like a patient instead of a daughter. As if I’d gone from being theirs to being someone they were managing. My second foster family always kept me at arms length, but I still felt that step back from friends at school. We could hang out right up until the point they learned that my parents were dead. Then things changed.

That’s what Sarai feels like now. She used to meet my eyes when I joked. She used to smile. She used to tell me stories no one else wouldsay out loud. And now? She won’t even acknowledge me. She won’t meet my gaze as she fastens the last clasp at my shoulder, hands precise and practiced like I’m a mannequin.

I want to say something. I don’t. I know better than to beg for softness from someone who’s been told not to give it. It’s easier, safer, to tell myself that she’s put up walls because she isn’t allowed to be my friend. That her employer or the Daemari don’t want her talking to me, the strange human girl who most definitely doesn’t have fire marks—whatever that means—but still apparently needs to train for the death cage fight. I know she’s been sent to prepare me for the next steps, but maybe they warned her about fraternizing? Maybe they don’t want her giving me any insider info. Maybe it’s nothing personal.

I let my voice drift back up into the usual range. Cool. Dismissive. A little too bright. Safe. I tuck the hurt and rejection under a layer of bravado, self-deprecating humor, toothy grins.

I tuck the ache behind my ribs and say lightly, “So just training today, or are we doing the full demon death match?”

She blinks once and answers with nothing at all. Doesn’t even smile, just turns away and begins folding my discarded sleeping tunic. Neat as a hotel maid in a five-star hell. I watch her work in silence for a few seconds.

“In my world, we usually explain things to people before throwing them into magical battle simulations.”