Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 113

**KACIA**

My breath catches in my throat. Best friend. Not colleague. Not ally. Best friend. And he can’t lie. Which means Lord Eryn isn’t exaggerating, isn’t twisting the truth, he legitimately considered my father the closest friend he had. If anyone is going to be able to tell me about Kasian, about who he was, what he believed, or even what happened with my grandfather, it has to be this man. Raylah’s head snaps toward him, her eyes wide, her usual poise cracking like porcelain under pressure. She didn’t know. She actually looks pale, and for the first time since I met her, unsteady. I can’t help wondering if she’s regretting the things she said earlier, her jabs at my father, her little theories that made him sound careless or neglectful. She seems to care about Lord Eryn’s opinion more than she’d ever admit. Enough to dress down, enough to play chauffeur, enough to act like a messenger when she doesn’t strike me as the type who does errands for anyone. But she did. She delivered his invitation. She brought us here. And now I see why. I swallow hard and clear my throat, forcing myself to speak even though my heart is hammering.

“My father…” My voice wavers, so I try again, aiming for confidence and only halfway hitting it. 

“If you knew him well… Would you tell me about him?” I ask. Lord Eryn’s eyes settle on me, and for a heartbeat he just studies me in silence. Then his expression softens, genuinely softens, and I feel the weight of it settle in my chest.

“Yes, I will.” He says at once, no hesitation. Something stirs in me, a strange mix of relief and terror, like I’m standing on the edge of something I’ve wanted my whole life but don’t know how to handle. Lord Eryn lifts his mug slightly, almost like he’s toasting me. 

“And I believe, that I would like to learn more about you as well… Kacia.” He adds, his tone measured but not unkind, 

I can’t decide what to make of Lord Eryn. He leads us through the garden and into the house, though house doesn’t really do it justice. The place is sprawling, more like a manor than a home, with pale stone walls, high arched ceilings, and tapestries that shift faintly as though the images woven into them are alive. But instead of being ushered into some grand hall meant for impressing guests, he takes us into a smaller sitting room that feels… Comfortable. Lived in. The chairs are cushioned, the hearth crackles with a low fire, and there’s a faint, earthy scent in the air, coffee beans and herbs. The whole space feels startlingly human for a fae lord. And then Lord Eryn does something that shocks me even more. He offers us tea or coffee, and instead of calling for a brownie or some other servant to appear, he makes the drinks himself. Now, I’m still fairly sure he has servants. You’d need them to keep a place this big maintained. But watching him pour hot water into mugs, measure out grounds with precise, practiced movements, it’s… Refreshing. A fae lord doing something so ordinary, something he could easily command someone else to do. Raylah lingers near the doorway, clearly uncomfortable. She fiddles with her braid, glances at Eryn too often, and shifts her weight like she isn’t sure if she should sit or stand. The usually untouchable, smug Raylah almost looks… Nervous. Like she is seeking his approval.  Meanwhile, Oz stays close to me, one hand resting against the back of my chair like he’s anchoring me, or reminding Lord Eryn whose side he’s on. His eyes never stop tracking the room, suspicious of everything. When Lord Eryn finally sets a mug in front of me, the smell makes my chest ache. Actual coffee. Thank heavens. I curl my hands around the mug, the warmth grounding me, and study him as he settles into the chair opposite us, cradling his own drink with casual ease.

“I imagine you have many questions about your father.” He says calmly. My throat tightens, but I nod. 

“I do.” I answer. His eyes meet mine, steady and unreadable. 

“Then I suppose it’s time someone answered them.” He says gently. 

I cradle the mug in my hands, the warmth steadying me, though my stomach still feels twisted. Across from me, Lord Eryn or ‘Tarish’ as he has asked us to call him, leans back in his chair, utterly at ease. For someone with so much power, he doesn’t feel the need to loom or command. He just watches me with eyes that seem to see straight through my skin.

“I’ll be honest.” He begins, his tone as casual as everything else about him. 

“I don’t know where Kasian is. I don’t even know if he’s alive. The last time I saw him was the night he came to tell me his daughter had been born.” He says bluntly. My chest tightens. Tarish’s expression softens at the memory. 

“I should tell you… He was thrilled. He couldn’t stop smiling. But he was also… Terrified. His father had never made his disapproval of humans a secret, and Kasian worried, quite rightly, that your existence would put you in danger. He wanted you safe more than anything.” Tarish explains. I clutch the mug a little tighter, my throat suddenly dry.

“I know little about what came after.” Tarish admits. 

“He left, and I never saw him again. I had originally hoped that he went to you and your mother. I heard plenty about that woman... ” He tilts his head, studying me. 

“Kasian spoke of her often. Not just fondly, but admiringly. He respected her strength. Said she was clever, stubborn, too good at making him laugh for his own good.” His mouth quirks faintly. 

“From what I’ve seen and heard of you, I’d say he wasn’t exaggerating.” He says with that slight smile. I blink rapidly, heat rising in my face, unsure if it’s the compliment or just the thought of my parents being… Happy, together. Tarish’s expression turns more serious. 

“Kasian didn’t get along with his father. Lord Alhwin…” He shakes his head slightly. 

“A man obsessed with power, reputation, bloodlines. He and Kasian didn’t fight exactly. Kasian was clever enough not to directly confront his father. But he rebelled in small ways. Helping other lords, freeing servants… Visiting the human realm... Kasian believed blood should never be the measure of worth. And he despised the way his father meddled with others’ lives as if they were pieces on a board. It was a silent war of principles as much as anything else.” He explains. That… Sounds like the man I hoped my father might be. Someone who wasn’t like my grandfather at least. Tarish takes another sip of his coffee, then sets the mug aside. 

“As for me… I don’t love humans, but I don’t hate them. They’re not lesser. They’re simply… Different. But… Kasian cared deeply for your mother, and for you. That is enough for me.” He pauses, eyes steady on mine. 

“It’s why I asked to meet you. Because my best friend had a daughter, he would have wanted me to look out for her. To make sure she was all right.” He says sincerely. I swallow hard, my vision blurring slightly. No one else other than my mother has ever spoken of my father like this. Not with certainty. Not with warmth.

“I considered coming to find you when you were a child.” Tarish adds, his tone quieter now, almost guilty. 

“But no one seemed to know you existed. And I thought perhaps that was safest. If you were hidden, if no one was looking, then drawing attention to you would only have placed you in more danger. So I left you be.” He admits. His words settle heavy in my chest. Relief and frustration all tangled together. He did care, for my father’s sake. He wanted to protect me. And yet…

“You left me to grow up not knowing anything.” I whisper, before I can stop myself. Tarish inclines his head, solemn. 

“I did. And perhaps it was a mistake, but perhaps not. I believed at the time that it was the best way to keep you alive. I am still not sure that it was wrong.” He responds honestly. The silence stretches, heavy, and I can’t help but grip the mug tighter in my hands. The heat seeps into my fingers, grounding me, but my chest still feels hollow.

I take a breath. 

“What was he really like? My father, I mean. Not just what he believed, or what he did… But him. As a person.” I ask. Tarish studies me, his expression softening in a way that makes me feel suddenly, painfully young. 

“Kasian was… A contradiction.” He says at last. 

“Charming, yet stubborn. He could win anyone over when he wanted to, the thing is, he rarely wanted to. His charm was saved for certain people. But being one of those people… Well he had a way of making you feel special. He also hated injustice, he couldn’t stand to watch someone weaker being pushed down. But he was never reckless. He knew what kind of person his father was. He was careful not to get caught speaking out.” A faint smile tugs at Tarish’s mouth, like the memory is both fond and exhausting.

“Above all… He was loyal. To his friends, to the people he cared about and to the values he held. He was not someone who was easily swayed. Calling him my friend was… An honour.” He says, sadness lacing his voice. My throat tightens. That sounds like the man my mother described, the man who left us. It sounds like someone I would have wanted to know. Tarish leans back slightly in his chair, his mug resting forgotten on the table.

“He also had this habit of talking with his actions. He didn’t need to say a word, but he had a way of making his thoughts clear, with a look or gesture. But… When he got excited about something, he’d pace. I’d find him wearing holes in my floors, muttering to himself until he finally settled on a plan.” He smiles fondly. My lips twitch into a shaky smile despite myself. I can picture it, this man who couldn’t sit still. It’s a feeling I know well myself.

“He was proud of you before you were even born.” Tarish adds softly. 

“Terrified for you, yes. But proud. I’ve never seen him look the way he did when he told me about you. He was already planning what he’d teach you, how he’d raise you to be strong enough to face anyone, even his father. And then…” Tarish’s expression dims. 

“He left. And I don’t know why.” He says with a heavy sigh. The ache in my chest deepens, equal parts longing and anger. My father sounds like someone who should have been there. Someone who WANTED to be there. And yet he wasn’t. I glance down into my coffee, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes. 

“I wish I could have met him.” I confess quietly. 

“You’d have liked him.” Tarish says gently. 

“And he would have adored you.”