The Demon King Davian

“Nothing we’ve heard. Though the general said he’d give us an update in the morning. You sure you want to work tonight?”

“I can only spend so much time alone at the cottage. Turns out I’m not that great a conversationalist.”

He snorted. “Oh, you have plenty to say, Jade. We all know it.” When they arrived at the tavern, he added, “I’ll be back at midnight to see you home.”

The diligent shovel brigade had taken to the walkways, not completely clearing them, given the massive amount of snow that covered the cracked concrete, but they’d made it possible to navigate the village. She entered the building, the noise level a bit more amplified than normal, likely because no one had come in during the storm and they were making up for lost time from weather-related captivity.

Yet the din faded as she ritually crossed to the coatrack, hanging up the cape Sheena had given her. She wore it over her own jacket because the combination provided substantial warmth.

Suddenly swarmed by patrons, Jade had to assure everyone she was in perfect health and also offer what little information she had about the entire incident. When she finally made it to the bar, Michael stared at her in exasperation.

“You’re trying a lot of nerves.” Regardless, he gave her a hug. “You really need to move into the town proper.”

“Please, don’t start with me. Everything’s okay. Let’s forget about it.”

Lisette, who surprisingly sat at the bar—she wasn’t a regular—said, “You were taken to the castle after being assaulted by a fire wraith and we’re not supposed to worry about you?”

Jade sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be nonchalant about this, and I do appreciate your alarm over what happened to me. I just don’t have much to say about the whole event. The king and his general rescued me and I recovered under their protection—though I was unconscious most of the time. Regardless…I was very lucky.”

Her friends eyed her skeptically as she busied herself by refilling beer mugs. Lisette had been drinking red wine, so Jade poured a bit more into her glass.

Michael looked as though he wanted to quiz her. Incessantly, no doubt. Skirting his inquiries, she grabbed a tray and trolled the room for empty pints and more orders. The activity helped to divert her mind from her time in Davian’s care and kept her from lying to anyone. She’d held much back from these people during her lifetime, out of necessity, and didn’t like deceiving them further.

However, despite her conviction to bury thoughts of the Demon King, they lingered. Comforting her in a way, yet also taunting her, because her entire being reacted to the remembrance of their night together. It was hardly a fair hand to be dealt. One she couldn’t play.

The evening progressed smoothly, as it typically did. A relief to Jade. Unfortunately, Michael watched her a bit too closely, as though he were looking for some sort of suspicious behavior on her part. She didn’t think she’d given him reason to doubt anything she’d said about her hellish experience with the fire wraith. But he cornered her in the storage room nonetheless.

“Something’s different about you,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

From a high shelf, she grabbed an oversized bag of pretzels the bakery delivered twice a week. “I had a very dangerous altercation with a demon, Michael. Naturally, my nerves are still shot to hell.”

“That’s not it. Although, yes, I can see you’re unsettled. But you also seem to be deep in thought.”

Actually, she was deep in concentration as she blocked her thoughts. “I’m just focusing on my job. Don’t read anything into it.”

He skipped right over her dismissive explanation. “What happened while you were within the kingdom?”

“I told you, I was unconscious for the most part. Then the slayers came for me.”

“Walker and Toran claimed they saw blood in the snow outside your cottage. You were hurt?”

“Yes, but I’m fine now.” How many times did she have to reassure everyone?

“I heard there was a lot of blood. But you don’t have any scrapes or scars.”

“Not that are visible.” Her statement was a true one. As was the case with Davian, her battle wounds had healed—the scars were strictly internal. But she’d meant to imply that she had been injured somewhere her clothing would conceal. She stared at Michael a moment, wondering if he’d buy into her fabrication.

Eventually, he lifted his hands and said, “I know you keep some things from me, Jade. But not everything. I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

“And I wish you’d stop interrogating me.” There. She’d made her first wish. Though she knew by the determined look in Michael’s eyes, it wouldn’t be granted. Why had she even bothered?

He took a few steps forward and said, “I saw how he looked at you in the meeting hall.”

“He, who?” She feigned ignorance. The subject matter inched a bit too close to the bullseye.

“The Demon King.”

Michael said this as though he needed to remind her the king was not of their species. And perhaps she did need the reminder. Admittedly, it was difficult to think of Davian as some evil entity who’d waged a war against her kind. Her ancestors. He had a quick temper, yes, but it seemed to be a direct result of his territorial nature. And it wasn’t just his alliance he was possessive and protective of, but also her.