Page 6 of The Demon's Little Girl
Now, watching her work in the afternoon light, I'm forced to confront the truth I've been avoiding. She's beautiful. Has always been beautiful, but beauty isn't uncommon among the humans brought to Ikoth. What makes her different is everything else—the quiet strength, the dry humor, the way she treats everyone around her with respect regardless of their station.
The way she looks at me sometimes, like she sees past the horns and the reputation to something worth her attention.
"Rovak's back," Tom announces suddenly, having spotted me despite my attempts to remain unobtrusive. "How'd the negotiations go?"
All three of them turn toward me, and I step forward rather than lurking behind the garden wall like some kind of voyeur. Liora's eyes meet mine briefly before she returns her attention to the tools, but not before I catch the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth.
Does she always smile when she sees me? The possibility sends warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun.
"As expected," I reply to Tom's question. "The merchant learned that reputation and reality don't always align in his favor."
"Meaning you got everything you wanted," Akira says with satisfaction. She's never had much patience for people who try to cheat their way to profit.
"Meaning I got everything we agreed to originally, plus a few concessions for his attempts to renegotiate in bad faith."
Liora glances up at that, those amber-brown eyes sharp with interest. "The spice contract you mentioned this morning?"
The fact that she remembered, that she was paying attention to details that don't directly affect her duties, shouldn't please me as much as it does. But there's something gratifying about having someone who understands the broader context of my work, who can follow the implications without needing everything explained.
"That's the one. We'll have secure pricing for the winter imports, and he'll think twice before trying to manipulate contract terms again."
"Good." She returns to her sorting, but there's approval in her voice that sends another wave of unwelcome warmththrough me. "Some people only learn when the lesson costs them something they can't afford to lose."
Exactly. That's exactly the philosophy I've built my business on, and hearing it reflected back by someone who has no obligation to understand or support my methods...
I need to stop this train of thought before it goes somewhere even more dangerous.
"I should let you get back to work," I say, already taking a step toward the house. "Those ledgers won't update themselves."
But my feet don't seem to want to follow through on the retreat. Instead, I find myself watching as Liora examines a small hand rake, testing the flexibility of the tines with careful pressure. Her attention to detail is fascinating—the way she considers each tool from multiple angles, weighing its current condition against future utility.
She's wearing a scent today, something light and floral that wasn't there this morning. Not perfume—too subtle for that, and she's never been given to personal adornments. Probably soap infused with flowers from the estate gardens. The thought of her taking that small luxury for herself, of finding pleasure in simple sensory details, makes something twist pleasantly in my chest.
Everything about her fascinates me, and that's the problem. The curve of her neck when she bends over her work. The way her hands move with practiced efficiency. The small expressions that cross her face when she thinks no one is watching—concentration, amusement, the occasional flash of something that might be longing.
I want to know what puts that expression on her face. Want to know what she dreams about during those moments when her attention drifts away from immediate tasks. Want to know if she ever thinks about me the way I find myself thinking about her.
Which is exactly the kind of thinking that needs to stop. Now.
She's human. She's my employee. She came to me through circumstances that give her precious little power to refuse anything I might demand. The last thing she needs is her master developing an inappropriate interest in her, putting her in a position where she has to navigate rejecting advances from someone who controls every aspect of her daily life.
I've seen what happens when demons treat humans as playthings. Seen the hollow looks in their eyes, the careful way they move around their masters, always calculating how to avoid attention while still fulfilling their duties. The thought of Liora ever looking at me that way, of her warm smiles becoming calculated performances designed to keep her safe, makes my stomach turn.
So I maintain distance. Treat her with the same respectful professionalism I would any valued employee. Keep our interactions limited to practical matters and the occasional shared meal when propriety allows.
It's the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
Even if watching her laugh with Tom and Akira makes me realize how much I want to be part of that easy camaraderie, how much I want someone who looks forward to seeing me the way she seems to look forward to their daily conversations.
Even if the thought of her eventually moving on, finding a life beyond my estate, makes something clench painfully in my chest.
She deserves better than a life in service, no matter how comfortable I've tried to make it. Deserves someone who can offer her partnership rather than protection, freedom rather than security within careful boundaries.
I just wish the thought of her with someone else didn't feel like losing something I never had any right to claim.
3
LIORA
