Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 103

**KACIA**

I can’t make up my mind about Raylah. Part of me thinks that under different circumstances, if she weren’t fae nobility and I weren’t her current chess piece, we might actually be… Friends. She’s incredibly straightforward in a way that’s almost refreshing. Blunt, even. And the more I talk to her, the more convinced I become that she really is weighing her options. It doesn’t feel like she’s stringing me along for amusement, it feels like she’s genuinely trying to decide whether or not she wants to help me. That alone makes me like her, though I won’t admit it out loud. Raylah isn’t the type to sit back and wait for things to happen. She makes them happen. And if nothing else, I can respect that. 

“So tell me, little heir.” She says suddenly, eyes gleaming as she slides gowns across a rack of silk and satin.

“Why has the demon banished himself to the couch when your bed is open to him?” She asks bluntly. I raise an eyebrow. 

“That’s very straight to the point. Is there a reason I should tell you?” I ask. She shrugs elegantly. 

“It is. And there are several reasons why you might. Because exchanging secrets encourages trust. Because women often discuss men with other women to strengthen friendship. Or perhaps simply to prevent me from getting the wrong impression.” Her lips curl into something sly. 

“Then again, you might also choose to tell me nothing at all. That is your prerogative. But there is a higher chance of me getting an answer if I actually ask the question, intrusive or not.” She concludes. A laugh slips out of me despite myself. 

“So basically you’re curious and asking just in case I might answer?” I sum up. 

“I suppose so, yes.” She inclines her head, unashamed.

“Well… I’m not going to answer. It’s complicated.” My arms fold across my chest, a reflexive barrier. 

“But if you happen to know any magic that could create immunity to a Kakos demon’s eyes, I’d appreciate the tip. That would make things decidedly less complicated.” I add quietly. Raylah pauses, humming to herself as she flicks through a wardrobe of dresses that, judging by the consistent colour scheme, I strongly suspect are her own. Her tone is casual, but there’s a weight in it when she answers me. 

“I don’t believe that I know of any. But… If I happen to come across the information, I will tell you.” She says, all teasing gone from her tone. I blink at her. That was a promise. Fae don’t toss those around lightly. It might be a small thing, unlikely even, but it’s still something.

“I appreciate it. Does that mean you’ve decided you want to help me?” I press cautiously. Raylah laughs, light and amused. 

“I suppose so. But wanting to help does not equal a commitment. There are also parts of me that do not want to help you. But in this kind of matter?” She lifts her chin, eyes sharp. 

“Yes. I believe I wish to be of assistance.” A grin blooms across her face. 

“In fact, I will start tonight. I will help you win back your demon.” She declares. My stomach knots. 

“I don’t need to… Win him back, exactly. I haven’t lost him. It’s more a matter of practicality,” I protest, my voice awkward and small even to my own ears. She waves one elegant hand dismissively, as though my argument is beneath notice. 

“Exactly. Tonight we shall see what it takes to win him back from his practicality.” She says smugly. And with that, she turns, holding up a black dress that glimmers faintly under the enchanted light. Her grin is positively mischievous, and I suddenly feel like prey that’s walked willingly into a trap.

I can’t decide if I’m comfortable with this situation. Raylah is standing behind me, pinning my hair into some elaborate style I could never manage on my own, her long fingers moving with unnerving precision. Each tug and twist feels calculated, like she’s building me into something new, a piece for her game board. Meanwhile, I’m sitting in front of a gilded mirror, running my fingers over the soft silk of the dress she shoved me into. It’s beautiful. Too beautiful. Deep black, smooth as water, cut perfectly to my shape. I don’t know how she managed to have something in my exact size. Did she just… Happen to keep spare gowns lying around for unexpected guests? Or did she use magic, altering it until it clung and flowed in all the right ways? I don’t know which answer unsettles me more. As far as I can tell, she’s dressing me up for one reason only, to tempt Oz. To make him look at me differently, to make him remember what he’s holding himself back from. On one level, I appreciate the… Feminine solidarity, I suppose. The idea of a fae lady braiding my hair and scheming to improve my love life is so bizarre it almost feels comforting. But under that, it makes me uneasy. Because it doesn’t just feel like she’s helping me, it feels like she’s manipulating both of us. And what’s worse? Her plan sounds uncomfortably familiar. It’s almost identical to mine. To put in a little effort, to flirt and smile and do what I need to do to make him remember I’m not just the girl in jeans and leather jackets. Remind him of what he’s missing when he keeps his distance. That part… Isn’t so bad. Honestly, the idea of Oz finally breaking and admitting what we both feel doesn’t scare me. But the way Raylah phrases it, helping me ‘win him back’ makes my stomach twist. I don’t have to win him back. He’s not gone. He’s right here, stubborn and protective and infuriating, always within reach. The problem isn’t his absence, it’s his walls. I swallow hard as Raylah secures another pin in my hair. The sharp click of metal against metal feels like the snap of a lock being fastened. And the thing is, I can’t shake the feeling that this is bigger than she’s letting on. That the dress and the hair and the teasing comments are just one layer of whatever plan she has in store for tonight. She’s fae. Every smile, every word, every gesture has weight. She told me outright she hasn’t made up her mind yet about helping me, and now she’s putting me on display like I’m some glittering piece she wants to show off. I look at myself in the mirror again. I barely recognise the girl staring back. Elegant. Beautiful. Fae enough to pass. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a warning. Because regardless of if Raylah HAS decided to help me or not. I’m already playing the game. She brought me here and placed me on the board. But the question is, what piece am I? Am I a pawn? A knight? Or is she planning to make me a queen? 

Raylah hums softly, sliding one last pin into place. Then she leans over my shoulder, her violet-gold eyes meeting mine in the reflection. 

“You wear the dress well, little heir. Enough to make even a demon forget his vows to practicality I suspect.” She compliments. My stomach twists. Is that a compliment or a trap? 

She studies me for a moment longer, then reaches toward a velvet lined box on the vanity. Inside, silver glints. She lifts a delicate tiara, the metal catching the enchanted light, jewels winking like cold stars. Her smile curves as she holds it out to me. 

“Now tell me, do you wish to wear a crown tonight?” She asks. It’s not really about the tiara. I know that immediately. This is a test. A question designed to measure me. Do I grab at the symbol of power like a greedy child? Do I reject it entirely? Both responses could damn me. I force myself to breathe evenly, though my pulse hammers at my throat. What’s the right answer?

“I don’t need a crown to prove myself.” I say carefully, meeting her gaze in the mirror. 

“But… If I ever choose to wear one, it won’t be borrowed.” I finish. Her smile sharpens, delighted. 

“Good answer.” She lowers the tiara back into the box, leaving it there. 

“Better to show you know your worth without ornament than to grasp at borrowed symbols.” She agrees. I let out the breath I was holding. A pass, then. This time. Raylah isn’t just helping me prepare for a party, she’s testing if I’m fit to play her game at all. But as much as her question was designed to test me, it did one other thing. It reminded me, I don’t need to borrow confidence or power. I can find those things all on my own.