Page 29 of The Demon of the Wood

She’d noticed the books the first day but hadn’t dared touch them for fear of mishandling the frayed and crinkled volumes. They were clearly well loved.

“Fairy Tales of the Fabled City,” he said, dipping to show her the illustration on the page next to blocks of text. It was a demon with a sword in a valley. “A merchant came through Orc Haven a few years back and had several volumes that I read growing up. I bought them for nostalgia, but they are enjoyable stories at any age.”

“Will you read to me?” she asked eagerly.

He raised a brow. “Are you interested in demon mythology, Melina?” He seemed wary and she couldn’t place why.

“Of course. I want to know more about you and the things you love, including the art.”

His cheeks colored at her words, and her heart picked up its pace. She’d caught on already that Kaemon’s smell and other senses were far superior to hers, but she hoped his hearing was not so sensitive he could hear the state of her heart any time he looked at her the way he now did.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat, and began reading.

It was an adventure tale of two demons trekking to the fabled city of Cirro. She had heard tales of it when she was a child, though they differed slightly from this one. The demons were warriors, tasked with finding a magical cure in the city hidden in the clouds. When they came halfway up the mountain where the city was located, they had to defeat a bridge troll by outsmarting it. Melina listened with rapt attention, halting her stitches as she did. Kaemon stopped and looked at her.

“Well, go on,” she said. “How did they outsmart the bridge troll?”

Kaemon was preemptively laughing, and she felt mirth bubbling up in her throat in response. “Then it was their turn to tell the troll a riddle that would stump him. Lemia sweated, grasping for any riddles she could remember. But her mind remained blank. The bridge troll laughed, his belly heaving with each bellow of joy.

“‘I win, little bat,’ the troll said.

“Lemia scrambled and cried out, ‘How many apples grow on a tree?’

“The bridge troll blinked, surely thinking that wasn’t the end of the riddle. But it was, because it was no riddle. It was only a question and Lemia was trembling in cold sweats that he would find out. He threw out answer after answer. Asking clarifying questions that she dodged with acumen. The sun rose to its noonday position, then dipped and dipped, resting on the horizon. The bridge troll finally let out a great cry, the sound shaking the ground under them.

“’You’ve bested me, demon,’ he conceded. ‘I will let you pass. Only tell me the answer to the riddle. How many apples do grow on a tree?’

“Lemia was smart enough to position herself and her companion on the opposite side of the troll, right on the edge of the bridge so they could run when she spoke. ‘The answer is quite simple,’ Lemia said, taking a step backwards with each word. ‘You’re going to kick yourself when you find out.’

“The troll rumbled again. ‘Tell me the answer!’

“‘Right, well. How many apples grow on a tree? All of them. All of them do.’ With that, Lemia and her companion jumped into a sprint, running across the bridge, feeling it tremble under the rumbling steps of the troll as he cried out in anger, telling them he’d been tricked. But they had made it across and were far too fast for the troll to catch up.”

Melina laughed so hard her side hurt and Kaemon joined her. “Oh, that’s so silly!”

“You know,” he said, trying to calm the merriment in his voice. “I’ve never found it as funny before.”

“It’s always funnier when you’re laughing with someone else.” Their eyes met and lingered.

It had been so, so long since she’d had someone else to laugh with. Her mother and she always found some joy. Memories of her mother grabbing her and twirling her around the room when she was a child or telling her jokes and stories were little treasures she brought up in dark times. But since then, she hadn’t laughed. Not properly until she’d come here.

She wanted to tell Kaemon this. She wanted to tell him so many things that sprung to life in her when she looked at him or shared a meal or a moment with him. But she was afraid he didn’t feel the same way, or that he would take it as her wanting more. It could break the peace and companionship they had. It felt so tenuous from her trained way of scarcity.

Kaemon continued reading as she stitched away, stealing glances at him as he flipped the pages, noticing the strength in his arms, the casual grace of his wings. She remembered the first night and how frightened she’d been of him. It seemed so ridiculous now.

The temperatures kept dropping until the fire only held the edge off. Kaemon stoked the logs and made the flames grow higher, but it could only do so much. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, shivering. Kaemon found a bed warmer and placed embers in it, then put it under the covers. He then came close to her and let his wings envelop her as they waited for the bed to heat. His own warmth radiated around them, calming her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“How do you stand the cold so easily?” she asked.

“I can handle very cold and very hot weather. My body adjusts easily,” he replied.

They sat like that, her head resting on him, his wings about her, until he determined the bed was ready for her to sleep in.

“Get in the bed,” Kaemon said. “The covers should keep you warm.”

She nodded, standing, and slipping her shoes and cloak off, letting out a hiss at the loss of heat before jumping under the covers and pulling them over her to make a tent around her head.

It didn’t take long for the bed warmer to cool off and the bitter cold to seep through again. She grasped the covers tighter around her; the cocoon providing some warmth as her own heat filled it, but the chill was too persistent outside to keep up.

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