Page 50 of Monster's Secret Baby

Through the window, I glimpse Marda wiping down counters, her movements unhurried and methodical. These evenings bring a quiet peace—Brooke off with Joss learning to shape clay creatures, the evening breeze carrying the scent of river water and baked goods from Tam's place down the lane.

I heft another chair, balancing it atop two others.

"What a quaint little life you've built yourself."

The voice slices through the twilight like a blade. My hands freeze mid-lift, the hair on my arms rising in primal warning. I don't need to turn to know who stands behind me. The cultured vowels, the knife-edge politeness—I'd recognize it anywhere.

When I do turn, a xaphan stands at the edge of the restaurant's patio, looking absurdly out of place against Saufort's rustic backdrop. His dark wings fold neatly against his back, not a feather out of alignment. His olive skin catches the last of the day's light as he studies me with eyes that reveal nothing.

I recognize him immediately as the manager I always thought treated Adellum wrong. He said Sior kept him on track. I think his manager used him like a fucking work zarryn.

"You're trespassing," I say, proud of how steady my voice remains while my heart pounds against my ribs. "We're closed."

Sior's thin lips curve upward. "And yet, here I stand." He brushes some invisible speck from his immaculate sleeve. "Remarkable how easy it was to find this place. One could almost call it... vulnerable."

My stomach knots. "What do you want?"

He steps closer, and I resist the urge to back away. His ink-stained fingers tap against his thigh—the only outward sign of impatience in his otherwise perfect composure.

"What I've always wanted. A return to order. Adellum has responsibilities in New Solas. Contracts. Obligations." He speaks as if explaining simple arithmetic to a child. "Instead, he's playing house in this—" his gaze sweeps dismissively over the village square "—charming backwater."

"That's between you and him."

"Is it?" Sior tilts his head, studying me like a collector might examine a curious but ultimately worthless trinket. "I wonder what these simple folk would think if they knew what he truly is. What he's capable of when provoked. They seem to have accepted him so readily." His words drip with false concern. "It would be a shame to see their hospitality turn to fear."

I set the chair down heavily. "Say what you came to say."

"Very well." Sior steps close enough that I catch the scent of expensive cologne and parchment. "You are a distraction, girl. A temporary infatuation. Did you honestly believe a creature like Adellum would be content with..." he gestures at me, at the restaurant, at the entire village, "this? Forever?"

A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the evening air.

"He has a legacy to build. Art that will outlive empires." Sior's voice softens to something almost paternal. "And what do you offer? A bed above a kitchen and a half-blood child who will never truly belong anywhere."

My hands curl into fists. "Don't you dare speak about my daughter."

"Ah yes, the girl." His expression shifts to something calculating. "Tell me, does she show signs yet? Magic can manifest so... unpredictably in mixed bloodlines. Sometimes violently. I've seen halflings whose powers turned inward, consuming them from within. Others whose abilities lashed out beyond control."

"Stop it," I whisper, images of Brooke's little sparks dancing in my mind.

"Such a fragile world you've built," Sior continues, looking around at the cobblestone square. "So easily shattered. All these kind villagers. That sweet potter boy who watches your daughter like a brother. The old woman with the garden. The smith and his wife." He ticks them off casually, and my blood freezes knowing he's counted them all. "What might happen to them if Adellum's attention remains divided? If he grows... frustrated?"

I step forward, surprising myself with my own boldness. "Is that a threat?"

Sior's smile widens, but his eyes remain cold and flat. "Simply an observation. You have much at stake now, don't you? Far more than just your own heart." He adjusts his sleeve with precision. "Consider what's best for everyone involved. Including your daughter. A child needs stability, not a father consumed by...distraction."

I turn away from him, trying to walk back inside where Marda's presence might provide some safety, some witness. "I have nothing more to say to you."

"Oh, but I'm not finished."

Sior moves with unsettling grace, cutting off my path with a few swift steps. I change direction, only to find him blocking me again, herding me backward until my shoulders bump against the rough stone wall of the restaurant's exterior. The unyielding surface presses cold against my back as he stands before me, close but careful not to touch, his dark wings spreading slightly to create a barrier on either side of me.

I try to sidestep him. "Move."

"You have always been the problem." Sior's composure cracks, revealing something raw beneath his polished exterior. His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching along its sharp line. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Adellum was on the verge of greatness—true, lasting greatness. His art was transcendent. And then you—" he makes a dismissive gesture, his hand slicing the air between us "—a kitchen servant with dirt under her nails."

"I never asked him for anything," I say, lifting my chin despite the tremor in my voice.

Sior laughs, a harsh sound with no humor. "You asked for everything simply by existing! You have no concept of what was at stake. The connections I built for him. The patrons. The commissions that would have secured his legacy for centuries."

---