Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 104

**OZ**

I am… Really not sure about this outfit. Not because it’s awful, it isn’t. It’s just not me. The clothes the brownie shoved at me are undeniably fae. Not as ridiculous as some of the other things he tried to foist on me, thank heavens, but still not my style. Black fitted pants that cling a little too much. A charcoal grey shirt with loose sleeves that puff out before cinching tight at the wrists, making me feel ridiculous. And over that, a black leather vest. Not the useful kind, the kind with padding or reinforcement that could stop a blade. No, this one’s purely decorative, laced at the sides and meant to look sleek. Pretty, not practical. He added a plain black belt and boots polished enough to see my reflection in. The whole ensemble screams ‘fae formalware’ and wearing it makes me feel like I’ve been shoved into someone else’s skin. But fine. Whatever. I might feel out of place, but at least I’m dressed. Except APPARENTLY, that isn’t good enough. The brownie refuses to take me to Kacia, insisting she’s still getting ready. As if I’m supposed to just sit here twiddling my thumbs while Raylah has her alone, weaving who knows what kind of spells into her hair or her dress or her head. So I pace the hallway, boots clicking too loudly against the stone floor, tail lashing behind me in short, sharp movements. Every second makes my chest feel tighter. My claws itch. I hate this. Hate being shut out. Hate being made useless. 

“Stop that!” The brownie snaps suddenly, scurrying after me as I turn at the end of the hall. “You’ll wrinkle the shirt.” He lectures. I swing around to glare down at him. 

“It’s a shirt. It’ll survive.” I respond bluntly. He clucks his tongue, darting forward to tug at one of my cuffs. 

“Not if you insist on stomping about like a sulking ogre. Hold still.” He complains. I jerk my arm back, growling low in my chest. 

“If you want me to hold still, then take me to her.” I try again. 

“Not until she’s ready.” He reaches for me again, utterly unbothered by the claws I could have out in a heartbeat. 

“At least stand up straight. Shoulders back. There, better posture.” He says cheerily. I bare my teeth. 

“I don’t need lessons on how to stand.” I grumble. The brownie tilts his head, unimpressed.

 “I’m TRYING to help you. I’m trying to make you look like someone who belongs.” He argues. 

“I don’t belong, and I don’t care.” I snap. He sighs like I’m the most difficult person he has ever met, then darts forward to smooth my vest, muttering under his breath about ‘uncooperative demons.’ I let him fuss for exactly three seconds before swatting his hands away.

“I don’t care if I look like a ruffian, I care about Kacia. So finish your grooming lecture or get out of my way, because the moment that door opens, I’m going to her.” I growl. The brownie huffs, but finally backs off, muttering darkly about hopeless cases. I clench my fists, force myself to breathe, but it doesn’t help. I hate being kept from her. I hate being useless. And right now, in these borrowed clothes that don’t feel like mine, waiting on fae timing while she’s behind a door I can’t break down, I’ve never felt more out of place.

The brownie is still muttering about hopeless demons when the door at the far end of the hall finally creaks open. I stop mid-pace, every muscle in me coiled tight. My tail lashes once before going rigid, claws pricking at my palms as I turn. I’m ready to storm across the hall, ready to snarl at Raylah for keeping me from her… And then Kacia steps out. For a moment, my thoughts just… Stop. The breath I didn’t know I was holding burns in my chest, stuck and unable to let it go. She’s standing there in a dress black as midnight, silk that clings and flows like water over her body. Her hair, usually in those neat braids or loose waves, is pinned up in a way that exposes the curve of her neck, delicate and devastating. The faint shimmer of pins glints in the light like stars woven into shadow. And the way she looks, confident, a little uncertain, but undeniably radiant, it knocks the words straight out of me.

“Kaci…” I manage, though it comes out rough, too raw. Her eyes find mine, hesitant at first, then softening into a smile as she takes in my reaction. 

“Well? Do I pass the test?” She asks teasingly. I can’t do much more than nod stupidly. What are words again? Raylah appears behind her, smug as ever, and gestures grandly. 

“Behold. The heir, polished and ready to play.” She declares. My jaw tightens, irritation flooding back. I don’t like the way Raylah says it, like Kacia is a pawn she’s just set on the board. But at the same time… Damn, Kacia looks… No. Focus. I take two strides forward and offer her my hand, pulling her gently toward me. My voice is low, meant for her alone. 

“Whatever games Raylah’s planning, you don’t play them alone. Got it? I let them stuff me into this damn outfit. Don’t waste my efforts.” I say firmly. Kacia squeezes my fingers, her smile sharpening with quiet resolve. 

“I know, you look… Uncomfortable. And incredibly handsome. Although I think I prefer it when you’re barefoot and comfortable in my living room.” She adds with a smirk, all her remaining nervousness seeming to drain away. Raylah grins from behind her. 

“She looks like a lady.” She says smugly. And just like that, my dread coils tighter. Because I suddenly understand what the fae has done in dressing her this way. The dress is equal parts armour and glamour. When Kacia looks like this, when she carries herself like this, the fae won’t see her as prey. They’ll see her as competition. Which is either very good or incredibly dangerous. 

I sigh heavily, tugging at the sleeve of this ridiculous shirt again. The fabric sits wrong, too tight at the wrist, and I can’t stop fussing with it. 

“What happens now?” I mutter, half to myself. Raylah sweeps past Kacia with that effortless glide of hers, her gown whispering across the stone floor as she gestures for us to follow. 

“Now,” she says, her tone syrup-smooth.

“We go join the celebrations.” She pauses mid-step, looking back at us with a glint in her eye. “Oh. I should ask, how would you both like to be introduced?” The way she says it is deceptively light, but there’s weight underneath, the kind that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Introduced?” I repeat, wary.

“Of course.” She folds her hands in front of her, all grace and charm. 

“When you enter, someone will announce who you are. It’s impolite to leave people wondering. What names shall I give them for you? For example, I am most commonly introduced as Lady Dian.” She explains. The question prickles over my skin, making me feel like there’s a trap hidden somewhere in the folds of her words. Still, I keep my voice even. 

“Oh… Well, I’m fine with being introduced by my name. Ozraed Faerwald.” I inform her. Raylah inclines her head in acknowledgment. 

“Very well.” Then she turns her gaze on Kacia, sharp and expectant. 

“And you?” She asks. 

“My name is fine too.” Kacia says easily. Too easily. Raylah’s eyebrow arches, her expression coolly curious. 

“Your name… But which one?” She questions. Kacia blinks, frowning. 

“Huh?” Raylah steps closer, circling her slowly like a predator deciding where to bite. 

“Hunter or Alhwin? Will you be introduced as human or as fae, little heir? Which will it be?” The question hangs in the air, heavier than any of her other games so far. My stomach knots, instincts screaming. This isn’t just about formality, it’s about allegiance. About how the entire court will see her when she steps into that room. I shift subtly closer, close enough that my arm brushes hers, making sure she feels me there. I don’t care what name she chooses, I’ll tear apart anyone who uses it against her. But I can already feel the weight of every fae ear straining to hear the answer, every fae eye ready to pin her into whichever box she chooses. And whichever way she goes, there will be consequences.