Page 47 of The Demon's Little Girl
He pauses in the doorway, silver hair catching the light as he looks back at me. There's something in his expression—concern mixed with a frustration that suggests he knows I'm not telling him everything.
"Liora... if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here. You know that, right?"
The kindness in his voice nearly breaks me apart all over again. Because I want to tell him. Want to give voice to the poison that's been festering inside me for two years. But the words stick in my throat, trapped by shame and terror and the lingering echo of Xharn's voice promising that Rovak would cast me aside if he ever learned the truth.
"I know," I whisper. "Thank you."
Avenor nods once, then steps back into the corridor. His footsteps fade as he walks away, leaving Nalla and me alone in the dim storage room once more. She's been remarkably quiet through this whole exchange, those pale gold eyes wide and watchful as she absorbs the tension she can't understand.
"Mama?" she asks softly, one small hand resting against my chest.
"I'm okay, little star." I smooth her dark curls, trying to project a confidence I don't feel. "Mama just needed a little break."
But as I sit there in the shadows with my daughter warm against my chest, listening to the distant murmur of voices thatincludes the one from my nightmares, I know I'm not better. Know that the careful peace I've built here is more fragile than I ever wanted to admit.
Because Xharn is in this house, breathing the same air, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to run again. To take Nalla and disappear before he can destroy what little happiness I've managed to find.
The only thing stopping me is the memory of Rovak's smile this morning. The way he'd looked at Nalla with such genuine affection, the careful tenderness in his touch when he'd helped put the necklace around my throat.
I can't lose that again. Can't losehimagain, even if keeping this secret might eventually kill me.
So I'll hide in this storage room until the monster leaves. I'll compose myself and wash the tear stains from my face. And I'll pretend that hearing Xharn's voice didn't just remind me exactly how easily everything I care about could be torn away.
Again.
25
ROVAK
The sound of Avenor's boots in the hallway pulls my attention away from the bloodstone samples spread across my desk. Xharn has stepped away to give me time to examine them without his hovering, something I've always preferred about his trading process, but something in my guard's stride has me pulled from my thoughts, my gut churning.
"What is it?" I ask without looking up as he enters.
"We have a problem." Avenor's voice carries that particular edge it gets when he's trying to stay professional while something eats at him. "It's Liora."
My head snaps up, every muscle in my body going tense. The memory of finding her gone two years ago, the months of searching, the sleepless nights—it all crashes back with brutal clarity.
"Where is she?"
"She's safe. I think." Avenor moves closer to the desk, those navy eyes dark with concern. "But she's hiding in the storage room with Nalla, and she's... she's in bad shape, Rovak. Scared out of her mind, crying, shaking like the day she disappeared."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I rise from my chair, bloodstone forgotten, every protective instinct I have roaring to life. "What triggered it?"
"I think it was Xharn." Avenor watches my face carefully as he delivers the words. "She mentioned she thought someone was in the house. I'm not positive, but I think maybe he… I don't know. Maybe he makes her uncomfortable?"
My mind runs over what he's said, and suddenly pieces I never wanted to connect start sliding into place with horrifying clarity. Liora's unexplained disappearance. Her return with a daughter whose parentage she's never discussed. The way she flinches away from everyone, the careful distance she maintains even as we've grown close again.
And Nalla's eyes. Those distinctive pale gold irises that I've seen somewhere before but could never quite place. Until now.
"Fuck." The curse tears from my throat as understanding crashes over me like a physical weight. Xharn's eyes. Those are Xharn's eyes staring back at me from a little girl that I could easily see as my own.
"You see it too." Avenor's voice is grim. "The resemblance."
My hands clench into fists as rage builds in my chest, white-hot and consuming. "She was running from him. When she disappeared—she was running from him." My stomach sours. "You found her upset that day?"
Avenor nods. "Disheveled and crying. Though alone when I found her."
Rage boils through me, my voice a low growl as I snarl, "Do you think hetouchedher?"
