Page 15 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

He senses my approach and tilts his head, acknowledging me without speaking. Lightning flashes far off, illuminating the black clouds overhead. In that brief glow, I see sorrow etched into his features.

“Did you find anything?” I ask quietly.

He exhales, gaze distant. “Only more signs that the elves are combing the forest. Their scouts are systematic, though they haven’t reached this sector yet.”

My stomach twists. “How long until they do?”

“A day, maybe two, if they persist.”

Nodding, I turn to look at the makeshift shelter where my friends huddle. “We can’t stay here. But Jenna can barely move. Where do we go?”

He doesn’t answer right away, as if weighing options. “There’s a possibility,” he finally says, voice low. “We could head south, into the deeper wilds. The land is harsh, but the elves rarely patrol so far from their holdings.”

I bite my lip. “Is it safe?”

“Safe is relative,” he replies, almost gently. “But it gives us a chance.”

The rain picks up, and I feel droplets winding down my collar. My clothes cling to my skin, gooseflesh covering my arms. “You said you were cursed… by House Vaerathis. What are you exactly?” My voice trembles at my own boldness. “Will they track you specifically?”

A tension coils in his jaw, and I think he won’t answer. Then he speaks, measured. “Yes. They have methods, bonds of blood and magic that were forged long ago. But time has weakened them. And I believe my emergence from the mirror has broken some of those chains.”

“So if the bonds are weakened… does that mean they’ll do anything to reforge them?”

He looks away, rain tracing rivulets down his pale cheeks. “Likely.”

An uneasy dread settles in me. “Then we have more reason to keep going.”

A faint nod. He’s about to turn away when I blurt, “You mentioned centuries. How… old are you?”

He closes his eyes. The thunder rumbles again. “Old enough that I barely remember what it felt like to be human.”

My breath catches. There it is, the truth I sensed all along—he wasn’t always a demon. “House Vaerathis did this to you?”

Something like anguish flickers across his features. “Yes.”

I want to ask more, to demand the whole story, but the pain in his voice stops me. Instead, I step closer, peering up into his face. The rain-soaked gloom doesn’t hide the mixture of rage and sorrow in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, though the words feel woefully inadequate.

His lips quirk in a sad smile. “You’ve done nothing to cause it.”

“No, but—I set you free. And now you’re stuck saving me and my friends. It wasn’t your fight.”

He lifts a hand, as if wanting to brush a strand of wet hair from my face, but stops himself. “You didn’t force me. I made a choice.”

My chest tightens, and I nod. Silence stretches between us, broken only by the steady drum of rain on leaves. Then a flicker of movement draws our attention back toward the shelter—Jenna moans. Cole’s trying to prop her up, but she’s shivering violently, her face pale as death.

I rush over, kneeling at her side. Ryn shifts to let me see. Her skin is hot to the touch, beads of sweat dotting her brow despite the cold. “We have to move her,” I say, voice thick with worry. “She’s getting worse.”

Daeva stands above us, brow furrowed. “We’ll leave at first light.”

“She might not last until then,” Cole mutters, tears brimming in his eyes. “She needs real healing.”

I recall that Ter, one of the dark elf sister cities, is said to have more lenient policies toward humans—somewhere in Kaynvu, presumably reachable if we travel far enough. But can we risk going to any dark elf city at all? That could be walking right into chains again.

Daeva kneels, placing his hand gently on Jenna’s forehead. She stirs, whimpering. “We travel south,” he says firmly. “Now,if you wish. I can carry her. The rest of you must manage on your own.”

Silas exchanges a glance with me, then sets his jaw. “We have no other choice. If we stay here, we’ll be cornered by the morning.”

A nervous energy crackles through the group as we begin to gather ourselves. It’s dark, we’re soaked, and Jenna’s wound threatens to fester, but the alternative is certain doom.

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