I glared at Jacobi across the kitchen table, my jaw set tight enough to ache. My reflection in the polished silver coffee pot showed dark circles under my eyes, and my hair was disheveled from running my hands through it too many times in the past hour.

  He slammed his fork and knife down with a clatter.

  “It would be irresponsible to go after him,” Jacobi said, his voice sharp and controlled. “Joy is more than capable of looking after herself, retrieving Ellah, and… dealing with Marcelo.”

  I unfolded the crumpled note on the table beside me, the tiny scroll still bearing the faint scent of sea salt. Two days ago, my falcon had returned from the mainland with this message tied to his leg, my bird making the journey across the water faster than any ferry could.

  “She’s been on the mainland for at nearly three days now. I don’t think she’s incapable, I just…I don’t think she should be doing this alone.” A sigh escaped me as I rubbed my hands over my face. “Be grateful I stationed Talon at the mainland port. Otherwise you’d have no idea where she is.”

  Jacobi matched my glare across the table. “You should be thankful she bothered to send word at all. Most demons would simply have disappeared. Anyway, she’s been there before. You bloody know that.”

  “I don’t know what I know anymore.” I pressed my hands over my eyes.

  “I think I know what you mean.” Jacobi’s tone was surprisingly soft.

  “I think you’re both being idiots.”

  Our heads swiveled in unison as we turned to glare at Delia. The morning light caught the bronze undertones of her skin, giving her an ethereal glow that didn’t match her mischievous expression.

  “Luckily, this isn’t about what you think.”

  Delia laughed, the sound sharp in the tense air. “Alright, but you guys are fighting over nothing.” She waved the spoon in her hand around, specks of porridge flying. “Tesh’ilia will take care of him. It’s what she trained for.”

  Her dismissive tone crawled under my skin and I frowned across the room at her. She caught my disapproving look and pulled a face in response. Defiant on the surface, but I caught the flash of genuine hurt in her eyes before she masked it.

  Jacobi thumped his hand down on the table loud bang that made us both jump. “If you two are simply going to be childish, I have better things to do.”

  Delia gave him a sly grin and deliberately poked her tongue out at him, but the gesture lacked her usual playfulness. Jacobi merely rolled his eyes, turned, and walked out of the room.

  I sighed and grabbed my empty plate, standing up from the table. As I did so, Delia’s hand lashed out and grabbed me around the wrist. I hadn’t even seen her move across the room. Her fingers were small but surprisingly strong, the heat of her skin burning into mine.

  “I don’t want you to go after him. Marcelo is too dangerous. Humans are different, unpredictable.”

  I released the dishes in my hands and sat back down, not making any attempt to remove my wrist from Delia’s grasp.

  “Isn’t that exactly why I should go?” I asked softly.

  “Oh. I see.”

  A look of uncertainty and discomfort passed over her face, and she released my hand suddenly. I rubbed it in my other hand while she sat in the chair beside me.

  “You’re not going after him. You’re going after her.” The accusation hung between us.

  I looked down at her, trying to ascertain her new mood. I reached my hand out to touch her chin, and she pulled away from me with an angry hiss that raised the hairs on my arms.

  “Delia,” I murmured, eyeing her hands as they curled into fists. “Don’t be angry with me.”

  She kept her eyes on the table in front of us, not meeting my gaze. “So, what are you going to do? Are you going to swoop in and save her from the big bad guy? You’re going to be the hero? Have her fall into your arms?”

  “Delia.” My voice hardened slightly, a tone I rarely had to use.

  She stood suddenly, the chair clattering backwards onto the floor, fury radiating from her small form. “It’s not going to happen that way, Selwyn. She doesn’t need rescuing, and you’re no hero.” She poked me in the chest as she spoke.

  “Stop that.” I pushed her hand away gently, and she immediately swung it back up, her claw digging into my chest as she poked me painfully again. The sharp pain was a surprise, but not as much as the look in her eyes.

  “That’s enough, Delia!” Jacobi’s angry voice called from the doorway as he stepped back into the room. “Take your hands off my brother.”

  Delia let out a bitter laugh. “He’s had my hands all over him before.”

  The memory of the barn, hay scratching against my back, flashed unbidden through my mind.

  Jacobi looked to me for confirmation, and I simple leaned back in the chair as much as I could, my hands open and wide.

  “It doesn’t look like he wants them on him now, so I suggest you remove them, before I do.”

  Delia’s eyes narrowed at the threat, but she made no move away.

  “Demons are big on rules, aren’t you, Delia?” Jacobi continued, circling closer. “Selwyn said no. I suggest you respect that.”

  “Why should I play by the rules? Human’s don’t.”

  Her attention had shifted entirely to Jacobi. I studied her profile, the way her amber eyes caught the light, the familiar curve of her jaw when tensed. How many times had I traced that line with my fingertips?

  I rose from the chair, my movements slow enough to draw her gaze. Instead of stepping back, I moved closer, into her space.

  “Delia.” I softened my voice in the way that made her eyes widen slightly. Recognition flickered across her face; hope, even. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, the hostility of her posture melting into something more vulnerable.

  I held her gaze for a long moment, before letting the caring trainer mask slip away.

  “If you don’t like it here, we can always send you back home.”

  The hope in her eyes shattered. Delia’s face drained of colour, her head shaking in rapid movements.

  “No, you can’t send me back. I’d be dead within the week.” All bravado evaporated, leaving her voice small and stripped raw with panic.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Jacobi moved with deliberate casualness, leaning past Delia to pluck a grape from the table. He straightened, towering over her, and popped the fruit into his mouth. A sly grin spread across his face as he chewed.

  “Then, Delia, I would suggest you behave yourself.”

  He looked at me, tilting her head toward the hallway. “Are you coming then?”

  I stepped away from Delia and crossed the kitchen to him. “Where to?”

  Jacobi shook his head at me, a mix of exasperation and determination in his eyes. “The mainland. We have to get our girls back.”

  Delia trailed behind us as we walked out of the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the floor.

  “They’ll be fine! You can’t go after Marcelo yourselves. You’re just humans.”

  “You’ve made that thought clear. Marcelo is just a human as well.”

  She let out a small snort. “He is far more dangerous that you two from the stories I’ve heard about him.”

  Jacobi turned on his heel to look at her. “Where have you heard stories, Delia?”

  “Do you think we don’t talk about you amongst ourselves? We know who the good guys are, who the bad ones are, and we know what Marcelo is like.” Her voice dropped lower. “There’s a reason he doesn’t own any Naerithi, and it’s not through his lack of trying. But it’s not an accident that he keeps missing out at auctions or being outbid, or something happens to draw him away.”

  Jacobi and I shared a confused glance, the implications of her words sinking in slowly.

  “Some people, you can tell they’re not lying when they say what they want to do to you.” Her eyes flicked to me for a moment, holding my gaze before returning to Jacobi. “Marcelo is like a bully with no control, and he’s just been given a toy that he’s never been allowed to touch before. He’s not going to give it back. It’ll break before he gets bored of it.”

  I couldn’t stop the confusion from flooding my face. “You think he’s going to break Ellah?”

  Delia’s harsh laugh echoed through the foyer. “I think love has made the both of you so blind that you can’t see what’s happening right in front of you.”

  “Love?” Jacobi and I questioned at the same time, the word hanging awkwardly between us.

  Delia shook her head. “You think you’re the first to desire her? Even before we came here, Joy knew she had to protect herself. She tried to hide herself, wear heavy armour. She stayed at the back of the rooms, she trained as a bodyguard. She signed herself up to serve Tesharen, to be one with the shadows.”

  “First of all, Tesharen?” Jacobi ran a hand through his hair, his usual stress indicator. “You keep calling Joy something like that. A guard you said.”

  Delia let a small smile curl her lips. “Tesh’ilia. It’s the name we give to those who serve the will of Tesharen. Joy is a blade of the goddess, enacting her will onto the planes of existence. She is not the only one, there are a number of Tesh’ilia who have come to the Dawn Plane, and I’m sure many more that I don’t know about. They are the ones who take care of the dark deeds that are required. If you need to disappear, or be taught you’ve done the wrong thing, or have an example made of you, the Blades of Tesharen will come for you.”

  An uneasy silence filled the hall as we processed what Delia had told us. The ticking of the grandfather clock beside the stairs seemed suddenly loud, counting seconds of stunned silence.

  Delia smiled, letting the bitterness in her voice continue. “So, when I tell you that she knows how to look after herself, trust me. Marcelo is the one who should be worried.”

  I took a slow breath. “Let me get this right. You’re saying that we have a trained…” I paused, searching for the right word, “assassin, that has been living with us, and that has now gone to hunt a human?”

  Delia smirked and nodded, seemingly amused that we finally understood the gravity of the situation.

  My throat went dry as the full implications settled into my bones.

  The sound of precise, measured footsteps approaching from the servants’ entrance broke the tension. Leonard Hawthorn appeared in the doorway, his normally impeccable butler’s uniform now bearing the evidence of a hasty return from the northern provinces. He paused, taking in the scene with a single raised eyebrow.

  “I had rather hoped my return would coincide with a peaceful afternoon tea. Instead I find what sounds like a war council.”

  “Leonard,” Jacobi acknowledged with a nod. “Welcome back.”

  “Thank you, sir, though I’m beginning to wish I’d extended my stay. We found this outside.” He stepped to the side, holding open the door behind him.

  Griffin, our head groom, stagged in carrying a small, limp form in his arms. His weathered face was tight with concern, sweat beading on his brow despite the cool air.

  “Masters,” he grunted, shifting his burden carefully. “Found her collapsed against the stables. She’s in a bad way.”

  I moved forward, taking in the sight of the small demon girl cradled in Griffin’s arms.

  “Let me take her,” I offered, reaching out.

  As I took the girl from Griffin’s arms, she flinched violently, a whimper escaping her lips even in her semi-conscious state. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, revealing irises of pale lavender that widened in fear before closing again.

  “It’s all right. You’re safe now.” I tried to keep my voice gentle despite the shock coursing through me.

  “Who is she?" Jacobi stepped closer, placing a cautious hand on the girl’s forehead. “She’s burning up.”

  As I shifted her slightly, her tattered shirt slipped from her shoulder, revealing a raw, angry mark on her skin. It took me a moment to comprehend what I was seeing. A brand, still inflamed and weeping, in the shape of a stylised lion.

  “My god,” Jacobi breathed, his face paling as he took in the sight. “That’s the Levanth crest. Marcelo.”

  “She’s been branded. Like cattle.” The sick feeling in my stomach intensified, yet I struggled to look away from the mark.

  Jacobi’s jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind. “It’s forbidden. Marcelo’s on the damned council. We were the ones to outlaw it.”

  Leonard stepped closer, his normally sardonic expression replaced with genuine concern. “Allow me to prepare a room immediately.”

  Looking more closely at her, I noticed the dark bruising around her ankles, and the raw, torn skin on the soles of her feet.

  “He whipped the soles of her feet. She can barely walk.” My voice was reduced to a horrified whisper at the thought. Dried mud and leaves clung to her clothing. How she’d made it to our estate in this condition was beyond comprehension. She must have dragged herself through the woods, likely hiding from any strangers who might return her to Marcelo.

  The girl stirred in my arms, her cracked lips moving. I leaned closer to hear her whisper.

  “She… sent me,” she managed, her voice so faint I could barely hear it. “Said… you would… protect…”

  Her clenched fist opened, revealing a scrap of shimmering fabric. Velez silk.

  “Joy.” Jacobi carefully took the piece of silk, his fingers tracing over the delicate material.

  Delia pushed closer, her earlier bravado completely gone, replaced by horror as she looked at the branded girl. “That’s Nalah,” she whispered. “I didn’t know she was here. She shouldn’t be. She’s too young.”

  I adjusted my hold, trying to be gentle as I lifted Nalah properly. “We need to get her to a doctor.”

  Jacobi slipped his pocket watch from his vest. “There’s no time for that. The ferry leaves at midday. If we miss it, we’ll be stuck here for another six days until it returns.”

  Leonard stepped forward. "Sir, if I may," he said, producing a handkerchief that was somehow still pristine, "I can send for the doctor while you prepare for your departure. I'll oversee the girl's care personally." He delicately dabbed at a smudge of dirt on Nalah's cheek.

  Jacobi nodded sharply. "Do that. And Leonard—" he lowered his voice, "—be discrete. No one outside this house needs to know she's here."

  "Discretion, Master Jacobi, is my specialty," Leonard replied with a slight bow and the faintest hint of offense that such a thing needed to be said. "Along with proper table settings and removing bloodstains from silk, of course."

  I carried Nalah to the nearest guest room, her slight form weighing almost nothing in my arms. As I laid her on the bed, Leonard appeared with fresh linens and a basin of water.

  "Sir, I've already dispatched one of the stable boys to fetch Dr. Richelli. If she’s at the arena, she should arrive within the hour." He began preparing compresses for Nalah's forehead.

  Delia hovered in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Nalah. "I'll stay with her," she said quietly. "I know how to tend to... these kinds of wounds."

  Leonard and Delia exchanged a look of mutual understanding that surprised me. "Between us, we shall ensure she survives," Leonard said, his voice regaining some of its customary crispness. "Now, Master Selwyn, unless you intend to miss your ferry, I suggest you make haste."

  Back in the foyer, Jacobi was checking the contents of our bags. "I've packed money, documents, and some basic supplies," he said without looking up. "We’ll be able to acquire anything else we need on the mainland."

  I grabbed my bag, mind racing with all we'd learned. Joy had been living under our roof, protecting a royal, preparing for... what? And now she was hunting Marcelo, wearing our family crest, our collar.

  "Let's go," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "We have an assassin to catch."

  "And do be careful," Leonard called after us as we headed for the door. "I've only just returned. I'd hate to have to plan a funeral before I've properly unpacked."