Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 108

**KACIA**

The next couple of hours are exhausting. More exhausting than bounty hunting, more exhausting than sitting through a night of paperwork with Mikey. At least with those, I know where I stand. Here? Every smile feels like a trap, every bow a test. Although, to be fair. I don’t actually bow to anyone. Was I supposed to be bowing? Yeah I don’t know. But I’d probably mess it up. Better not. I talk to so many people I lose track. Names, titles, houses, it all blurs together in a haze of silks and smirks. My brain scrambles to keep up, but I know I’m failing. Some are openly friendly, their charm too polished to be real. Others are downright rude, practically dripping venom onto every word. And then there are the ones who linger in that perfect neutral zone, the ones who smile without warmth, speak without saying anything, and keep their cards pressed close to their chests. Those are the ones who worry me most. And still, there are a few who don’t approach at all, their eyes flicking to me with disdain or disinterest. But there aren’t many of them. Once the first few fae came over, the rest followed, one after another. Not wanting to miss their chance, not wanting to be left out. I suspect many of them aren’t even interested in me, just in how everyone else reacts to me. I do my best. Smile. Speak politely. Hold my head high, even when I want to shrink. When they’re charming, I’m courteous. When they’re dismissive, I steel myself. And when they’re openly rude? Well, then I return the favor. Razor edged sweetness. If they think they can walk all over me, they’re going to trip. And through it all, Oz is right there. My anchor. I feel his presence at my side, solid and grounding, even when he doesn’t say a word. Sometimes I catch the flicker of his eyes narrowing, his tail twitching when someone gets too bold. More than once I see a fae falter under his stare. It makes me want to laugh, he doesn’t have to say a thing, and they’re rattled. When he does talk? Well people don’t seem to know quite what to make of him. Strangely, though, I don’t manage to speak to Raylah again. I see her several times across the room, her presence like a bright flame. Impossible to miss, yet somehow completely out of reach. Every time I try to move toward her, she’s gone. The one time I nearly reached her, she vanished into the crowd like smoke. It feels deliberate. Like she’s dangling herself just out of reach. Which only makes me wonder, what’s she waiting for?

I have no idea what time it is anymore. There aren’t clocks here, and the enchanted light doesn’t seem to change. For all I know, it could be midnight or midday, but my head is pounding and my eyes burn like sandpaper. Every smile I’ve forced feels carved into my face. Oz takes one look at me, and his jaw sets.

“Okay, I think we’re done here.” He says firmly. I blink at him. 

“We can’t just leave.” I answer blankly. He shrugs, casual but determined. 

“Well, technically we can’t make it home on our own, true. But there’s nothing stopping us from walking out of this party and finding somewhere quiet. Maybe with a couch. Somewhere you can collapse.” He suggests. The thought of sinking into a couch, even for five minutes, sounds so good it makes my throat ache. I sigh, leaning into him a little. 

“I love you.” I blurt out. The words slip out before I even think about them. For once, I’m not teasing him. I’m not testing. I just… Mean it. And that alone is proof of how bone deep exhausted I am. Oz freezes. Completely. His whole body goes rigid under my hand, and for a moment his face goes this odd grey shade. I swear I catch a flicker of his horns before he shuts it down. His eyes squeeze shut, and he drags in a deep breath like a drowning man clawing for air.

“Oz?” I whisper, suddenly worried. 

“Did I… Break you?” I ask nervously. For a long beat, all he does is breathe, slow and heavy, pulling himself together. Then his eyes open again, molten dark with just the faintest glint of silver. His voice is rough but steady.

“I’m fine, Princess.” He exhales, the warmth in his expression making my chest tighten. There’s something soft there, and something pained, like he wants to say more but won’t let himself. 

“Now let’s get you somewhere comfy before you pass out on one of the tables.” He grumbles. I give a weak little laugh, though my cheeks are burning. Oops. I probably shouldn’t have blurted that out in the middle of a fae party with half the court watching from across the room.. But the sting settles in quickly, sharper than I’d like to admit. Because of course, he didn’t say it back. I KNEW he wouldn’t. But knowing that doesn’t stop it from hurting a little, though. Just a little hollow ache in my chest, the kind I’ll have to shove down and pretend isn’t there. Still… He called me Princess again. And that does soften the blow a little bit. And there’s something in his voice when he says it, something protective, something warm, that feels like his own way of saying what he won’t let himself speak aloud. I cling to that. I just have to have faith that one day, we’ll figure this out. One day, the walls between us will crumble, and he won’t just call me Princess in that tender voice. He’ll finally say the words back.  

Oz doesn’t wait for me to argue again. He tucks my hand firmly into his arm and starts steering me toward the edge of the crowd. I don’t protest. Every step makes my eyelids heavier, the ache in my skull pounding louder than the music spilling from the instruments. We slip through the gaps in the throng, Oz moving like a shadow, keeping me close enough that I don’t have to think about walking straight. No one stops us. More than a few pairs of eyes follow us, curious whispers nipping at our heels, but no one steps forward. Maybe they think we’re just slipping away for something scandalous. Fine. Let them. If that means I get to sit down without another interrogation, they can imagine whatever they like. The double doors loom ahead, towering and carved with runes that shimmer faintly. Oz pushes one open just wide enough for us to slip through. Blessedly, the noise of the party muffles the moment it closes behind us, leaving only the hush of the corridor beyond. I lean against him with a sigh of relief. 

“Finally.” I groan. 

“Almost free.” He mutters, half dragging me down the corridor like he’s afraid I’ll collapse before we make it anywhere decent. And then a voice, smooth as silk, curls through the quiet.

“Well, well. Sneaking out so soon?” It says teasingly. I jolt upright as Raylah steps from the shadows just outside the doors, her gown catching the light like liquid silver. She looks utterly amused, her smile sharp and knowing, eyes flicking between me and Oz with deliberate slowness. Heat floods my cheeks. Great. Just what we needed, Raylah catching us like a pair of children sneaking sweets before dinner. Oz exhales heavily through his nose. 

“We’re done being entertainment for your guests.” He says flatly. Raylah’s laughter rings out, soft and delighted. 

“Oh, don’t pout, demon. I’m not upset. In fact…” Her eyes linger on me, her grin widening. 

“I’m rather entertained. And I do love when my guests entertain me, even unintentionally.” She smirks. I glance at Oz, but he just looks like he’s one second away from growling. I sigh, trying for diplomacy. 

“We just need some air.” I tell her. 

“Air or escape?” Raylah arches a perfect brow, her lips curving with mischief. Her gaze glitters, sharp as a knife, and I know she’s not going to let us off that easily.

“Or sleep.” Oz grumbles, his voice rough. Raylah considers that, then gives a bright, almost girlish nod. 

“I suppose that is true. Alright then, time for bed for you young ones.” She declares. Young ones? The words snag in my mind. She says it so casually, as if it’s obvious, but… How old IS she? She doesn’t LOOK old. She doesn’t even carry herself with the weary arrogance I’d expect from someone ancient. But the way she says it makes me wonder just how old she really is. 

“I enjoyed meeting you, Kacia.” Raylah says smoothly, her eyes gleaming like jewels in the torchlight. 

“And you, Ozraed… You’ve caused quite a stir tonight. My celebration will be talked about for months.” She says gleefully. 

“Great.” I mutter flatly, too wrung out to even pretend at diplomacy anymore. She laughs softly at my tone, then tilts her head toward me. 

“Ah, don’t be unhappy, little heir. You proved you can hold your own tonight, regardless of what name you give.” She says gently. I blink. That… That was a compliment. A real one. And suddenly it clicks. The introductions. The endless questions. The sideways glances and probing smiles. My introduction, the name I chose didn’t matter, not really. What Raylah was testing was my conviction. Whether I could stand by my own choice and wear it without wavering. I think I passed. Does that mean she’ll help me now? Will she finally answer my questions? Did we accomplish anything tonight at all, or was it just a game for her amusement? I open my mouth, the questions bubbling up, but before I can get a word out, a blinding flash of light erupts in front of me.

“Sleep well, little heir…” Raylah’s voice croons, sweet and mocking, echoing as my knees buckle. Then the world goes black.