Page 49 of Nanny for the Demon's Twins

"After you eat your vegetables." Mira winks at me. "All of them, Karn."

I mock growl at her, but eat my greens. The twins giggle, and something in my chest expands watching them. Mira reaches across to wipe Nova's face, humming a tune while refilling Luna's cup. These little moments we've built mean the most to me.

"Can we have cookies?" Luna asks.

"We just made pies." Mira cuts another slice.

"But cookies are different!"

"Tomorrow." Mira's voice holds that perfect blend of firmness and love that took me months to master. "We'll make some together."

Nova's eyes light up. "With sprinkles?"

"As many as you want," Mira promises. "If you finish your dinner."

I watch them eat, these three who've claimed my heart. Mira catches my stare and smiles, a bit of flour still on her cheek. I want this - dinner conversations and cookie promises, magic lessons and bedtime stories - forever.

20

MIRA

The heat from the forge wraps around me as I descend the wooden stairs into Karn's workshop. The familiar scent of metal and fire brings a strange comfort - so different from the perfumed halls I once cleaned.

The twins play in their designated corner that I set up this morning when they begged Karn that we all go to work with him. He was reluctant but I have them surrounded by wooden toys and cushions, safe from any sparks or tools.

Karn's broad shoulders flex as he hammers a piece of metal into shape. His copper-red hair catches the forge light, tied back but with a few strands escaping around his pointed ears. The rhythmic clanging fills the space, punctuated by the girls' giggles.

And I can't take my eyes off his chest as it flexes while he works.

"And then she said- oh, you should have seen the look on her face!" A customer's shrill voice cuts through the workshop noise. The woman leans against the counter, fanning herself. "But that's not even the worst part. Did you hear about those slave traders skulking around the market?"

My hand freezes on the railing. It’s like my biggest fear has materialized right here, in my little safe haven.

"They were so bold! Even questioning some of us, like we would take someone's spoiled goods by letting in a runaway. Checking people's wrists for a brand, they said."

The room spins. My chest tightens, each breath shorter than the last. The brand on my wrist burns like it's fresh. I grip the railing harder, my knuckles white.

"Apparently they're looking for some valuable runaways-"

I stumble backward, nearly tripping on the stairs. The walls close in. I need air. Need to run. Hide. The stairs feel impossible right now, but I need to go. I need to calm down.

Through the panic, I see Karn still working, his violet eyes focused on his craft. The twins remain absorbed in their play. No one notices as I slip into the storage room, pressing myself against the cool stone wall.

My heart pounds against my ribs. I slide down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. Breathe. Just breathe. They can't find me here. I'm safe. The girls are safe. Karn would never...

I press my hand over my mouth, muffling any sound that might escape. Can't let him see. Can't be a burden. Can't risk-

The customer's voice drifts through the door again. She seems to have come closer, and now I'm really glad that I am hiding in the storage room because my knees would have immediately gave out at her next words.

Through the storage room door, the customer's voice becomes clearer. My fingers dig into my arms as I try to stay silent.

"Oh yes, Lord Duskfire himself came to the market! Can you imagine? He never leaves his estate these days." The woman's voice rises with excitement. "Such presence, such refinement. Those golden eyes of his..."

My stomach lurches. The room spins faster.

"He's offering quite the reward too. Said one of his most precious acquisitions was stolen." A pause. "A girl with green eyes and long dark hair. He said she's not like the other slaves — but all demon males say that about their toys."

Metal clangs against metal as Karn sets something down. "Not interested in gossip." His deep voice cuts through the workshop. "Your order will be ready next week."

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