Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 106

**OZ**

The double doors ahead of us are massive, carved with curling fae runes that shimmer faintly when the magical light hits them. Beyond, I can hear the music, the rise and fall of voices, the sharp ring of fae laughter. Too smooth. Too perfect. It makes my skin crawl. Raylah sweeps forward, all grace and poise, and the doors swing open at her approach. Instantly, the hall falls quiet. Hundreds of eyes turn toward us. I thought this was meant to be the twelve fae lords and ladies and their representatives?! I suppose other people want to come meet them too? Or maybe they just have a lot of representatives. A herald steps forward, voice ringing out.

“Presenting Lady Dian of House Dian, heir to her grandmother’s seat.” He says clearly. I can’t tell if he is using magic to project his voice or if he is just naturally that good at projecting. Raylah glides into the room like it was built for her. The fae part before her without hesitation, bowing their heads, their gazes bright and assessing. She accepts their attention like it’s her birthright. Which, I suppose, it kind of is? Then the herald’s voice rises again.

“Presenting Kacia Hunter, daughter of Kasian Alhwin and heir of Lord Alhwin’s line.” He announces. The air shifts. The name Alhwin lands heavy, and the ripple it causes is immediate. Every eye swings to Kacia, raking over her from head to toe, curious, hungry, skeptical and calculating. Whispers erupt like sparks leaping from a fire. Heads twist, shoulders stiffen. On the left, a tall fae woman in a silver gown presses a hand to her mouth, her expression scandalised. Beside her, a man with hair like spun gold murmurs something, and she lets out a laugh too sharp to be kind. On the right, a younger fae leans forward in his seat, eyes glinting with interest that makes my gut clench. He looks at Kacia like she’s not a person but an opportunity. Farther back, two older men exchange a glance and a knowing smirk, like they’ve been waiting for this kind of scandal to walk through the door for years now. I feel Kacia straighten at my side. Her chin lifts, her eyes fixed forward, her body language screaming defiance. She’s radiant in that damn dress, radiant and brave, and I hate it, hate how much they see it too. My claws prickle against my palms, my tail flicking once before I force it still. The herald calls again.

“Accompanying the Alhwin heir, Ozraed Faerwald, Kakos demon.” He adds. This time, the ripple is different. Not hungry. Not curious. It is just filled with disdain. One fae lady sneers openly, whispering behind her hand to the companion at her side. A man near the dais makes a disgusted sound in his throat. Another fae, pale and sharp faced, actually takes a step back as though my presence contaminates the air. But their disgust is almost easier to bear than the way they look at her. I force my claws to stay sheathed, my tail twitching once before I rein it still. Every muscle in me aches to pull her out of here, to shut those doors and keep their eyes from touching her. But Kacia straightens at my side, refusing to shrink under their scrutiny, and I know this is what she wants. What she chose. It might be better for her reputation right now for me to hang back. To act like I’m some kind of bodyguard or servant. But I know that’s not what she would want. So I match her step and keep my arm brushing hers, silent but solid. If they want to weigh her, let them. If they want to plot around her, fine. But the first one who tries to touch her will learn exactly how afraid they can really be.

With the introductions done, Raylah sweeps away, gliding into the crowd to greet her guests, perfectly content to leave us exposed. Typical. Kacia slips her hand into the crook of my arm, gripping tightly. To anyone else it looks casual, a polite gesture. But I can feel the iron strength in her fingers digging into me. She’s nervous. Of course she is. Anyone would be, standing in a room full of predators dressed in silks. Without a word, we drift toward one side of the room. Not hiding exactly, just enough to look deliberate, as though we chose this vantage point rather than retreating. A tactical move. Appear engaged, not isolated. Kacia tries to keep her expression neutral, but I see the cracks in her mask, the slight stiffness of her jaw, the quick flicks of her eyes as she takes in every glittering figure. She’s unraveling, piece by piece. I need to distract her.

“They all look scandalised.” I murmur low in her ear. 

“Not just because of who you are, but because you dragged me along. A demon, how low class of you.” I joke. Her lips twitch into the faintest half smile. 

“True. That one woman looks like she might pass out.” She flicks her gaze toward the fae lady in silver, who still hasn’t stopped staring.

“Yeah. Not quite though.” I let a grin tug at my mouth. 

“I wonder what it would take.” I comment. That earns me a soft laugh, brief but real. Good. The tension in her shoulders loosens a fraction. But then her eyes shift, turning sly, teasing, calculating in a way that makes my stomach knot for entirely different reasons.

“Not sure…” She says, stepping in closer. Her hand lands lightly against my chest, her gaze daring me to react. 

“I bet we could find out.” She says teasingly. 

“You’re trouble.” I grumble. But I don’t pull away. I can’t. I knew exactly what I was doing, and exactly how she’d respond. And it worked, her nerves are gone, her focus entirely on teasing me instead of the room full of fae circling us like sharks. Except now the sharks are watching even closer. Because the moment she laughs, the moment she leans in toward me, every fae eye sharpens, interest doubling. They’re not just scandalised now. They’re intrigued. And nothing is more dangerous to us than their curiosity. Kacia barely has time to smirk at me before the first one approaches.

A tall man breaks from the crowd and approaches with the air of someone convinced the entire room should part for him. His robes are a deep, forest green, embroidered so heavily in gold he’s practically glittering. Every thread screams wealth, power, and vanity. His hair, long and glossy in shades of autumn red and orange, has clearly been brushed a hundred times to ensure not a single strand is out of place. Even the way he walks, deliberate and measured, it screams performance. When he reaches us, he bows just enough to feign courtesy, his expression smooth and condescending. 

“Ah…” He drawls, his tone dripping self satisfaction. 

“So this is the infamous heir of Alhwin. And her… Escort.” His eyes flick to me with thinly veiled disgust before returning to Kacia, his lips curving into a smile so polished it’s almost a sneer. “How delightful.” He comments. I would think he is lying, but he can’t. So I suppose that there must be something he is enjoying about this situation. Kacia plasters on a bright, false smile that’s all edges and no warmth. 

“You don’t SOUND delighted. But that’s perfectly fine, because I’m not here to entertain you.” Her tone is light, but there’s steel beneath it. 

“Tell me, what’s your name?” She demands bluntly. The man straightens as though the question itself is beneath him, puffing up like a peacock spreading its feathers. 

“Kaspar Haymish.” He announces, each syllable sharp and proud. 

“Heir and chosen representative of Lady Hamish, matriarch of House Hamish.” His chin lifts imperiously, smugness radiating off him like perfume. He looks at us expectantly, as if waiting for awe to dawn on our faces, or for us to drop into reverent bows at his feet. Kacia tilts her head, her expression sugar sweet. 

“Well… I have absolutely no idea who that is.” She answers easily. I have to clamp my teeth shut to keep from laughing outright. Her smile doesn’t falter. 

“But if you’re the heir… That basically makes you the same as me, right?” She asks, her tone filled with false innocence. For a heartbeat, Kaspar freezes. The horror on his face is exquisite. Disgust twists his polished mask into something ugly. He stammers once, twice, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but he can’t deny it. Fae can’t lie, and she’s cornered him cleanly. And yet his pride won’t let him admit it either. He’s trapped between truth and ego, floundering in front of us both. Finally, he lets out a sharp, disdainful scoff and spins on his heel, storming back into the crowd with his gilded robes swishing like an offended peacock. Round one goes to Kacia. I glance down at her, a grin tugging at my mouth. 

“You’re dangerous.” I murmur, low enough for only her. She squeezes my arm, her sly smile curling. 

“You’re just figuring that out now?” She asks. I bite back a laugh. Damn it, she’s going to topple this court with nothing but her mouth. And I’m not sure I’ll stop her.