Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 114

**OZ**

I watch as Kacia is told everything she’s always wanted to hear, and everything she was afraid of. She confessed once that a part of her wished her father had been cruel, distant, selfish. Because then it wouldn’t hurt so much that he hadn’t been there. But from the way Lord Eryn, Tarish, speaks, that isn’t the truth. Her father sounds like the opposite. Kind. Fierce. Proud. Someone who would have adored her if he’d had the chance. And I can see the way it’s hitting her. Overwhelmed. Happy, but also aching with the weight of what she missed. I step in closer, letting my hand slip from the back of her chair to rest lightly on her shoulder. It’s not much, but it’s something. A quiet anchor. She leans into it just barely, and that’s enough I hope. Clearing my throat, I break the silence before it swallows her.

“Did you have any questions for us?” I ask, my tone calm but pointed. Really, it’s just to buy her a moment, to let her breathe, to not be the one expected to carry the conversation while she’s still reeling. Tarish looks at me then, his eyes steady. For the first time since we arrived, his attention shifts away from Kacia. I brace myself, because I have the feeling his questions won’t be easy. Tarish sets his mug down with deliberate care, his pale eyes fixing on me. For the first time since we arrived, Kacia isn’t the one under the magnifying glass. I am.

“Yes.” He says, his voice calm but edged with something serious. 

“I do have a question for you. Why are you here, Ozraed Faerwald?” He asks. My spine stiffens at the sound of my full name. He knows exactly what I am, but what else does he know about me?

“You’re Kakos, you make deals. You bind yourself to tasks, to promises. If you’d struck a bargain to protect her, I could understand that. But protection doesn’t require…” His eyes flick to where my hand rests lightly on Kacia’s shoulder and he considers what to say next.

“Comfort…” He settles on, his voice steady. Heat crawls up the back of my neck. He leans back slightly, his gaze drifting to my arms. For a moment, it feels like he’s peeling me open with his gaze. 

“I can see the bindings etched into you. Old, ugly magic. I know who wove them, and why. You carry your enemy’s chains.” His expression sharpens and his eyes return to mine. 

“By all rights, you should have every reason to want Kacia dead. To end the line of the man who shackled you and earn your freedom at the same time.” He points out. Kacia jerks beside me, but I barely register it. My chest twists, hot and sick. Because he’s right, but so completely wrong at the same time. 

“My freedom is not worth her life.” I say, my voice low, rough and deadly. The words fall heavy into the quiet. My claws bite into my palms. I mean them. More than anything I’ve ever said. Tarish studies me, his face unreadable, as though weighing the truth in my words. Beside me, Kacia’s breath catches. Tarish studies me for a long moment, silent. Then, to my surprise, his mouth curves into a smile, dry and amused, but not unkind.

“You’re a complete fool.” He says evenly. I frown, offended. He continues speaking. 

“To value her life above your own freedom. A Kakos demon, willing to spit on vengeance and sacrifice his chance at release for one girl? Utterly foolish.” He declares. The words should sting, but there’s no malice in them. If anything, there’s a strange warmth beneath the mockery.

He takes up his mug again, sipping casually.

“But then again, don’t we all hope for someone who makes us fools of ourselves?” He adds. My jaw tightens, but before I can muster a retort, his gaze softens, just slightly, the faintest flicker of something that feels like approval.

“Kasian would have liked you.” He says simply.

Tarish leans back in his chair, one arm draped along the armrest, coffee mug balanced loosely in the other hand. For someone who’s supposed to be one of the twelve ruling fae, he has the unnerving ease of a man lounging at home, content to make small talk.

“So… Tell me about yourself. What sort of life does my best friend’s daughter lead?” He asks lightly, his attention returning to Kacia. She blinks at him, clearly thrown.

“Uh… Nornal?” She says after a beat. Then, quickly corrects herself.  

“Well… As normal as it gets for a half fae.” She adds. Tarish chuckles, low and amused. 

“Normal? Forgive me, but somehow I doubt that.” He says bluntly. Kacia bites her lip, then sighs, setting her mug down. 

“Alright, fine. I’m a bounty hunter. I track people who don’t want to be found, bring them in, get paid.” She hesitates, her eyes flicking briefly toward me before she goes on. 

“But it’s not just random criminals. I work with the police. They bring me in for… Magical issues. Since I can see and sense magic, it makes me useful when things go sideways.” She explains proudly. Tarish hums, intrigued.

“Ahh, yes. That makes sense. Half fae intuition, paired with human grit. A rare combination.” He says, his tone almost complimentary. He takes another sip of coffee. 

“And you do this full time?” He questions. Kacia nods. 

“Yeah. It pays the bills. Keeps me moving.” She answers. 

“Do you enjoy it?” He asks. The question takes her off guard. She pauses, then shrugs. 

“I do, mostly. It’s hard sometimes. People lie, they cheat, they get desperate. But… I like seeing justice done. And I like helping the police when they don’t have the tools to deal with something magical. They can’t always see what’s right in front of them, and I can.” She responds thoughtfully. Tarish’s mouth curves faintly, his pale eyes glinting. 

“You’ve inherited your father’s knack for walking in two worlds. He was always most comfortable straddling the line between the fae and the rest.” He observes. Kacia gives a half smile. 

Raylah, who’s been silent too long, shifts restlessly in her seat. She’s watching Kacia, but her gaze keeps flicking back to Tarish like she’s waiting for his approval, like a child desperate for a teacher’s praise. After a moment, she rises gracefully and moves toward the fireplace where a fresh pot sits. Without being asked, she takes it upon herself to refill everyone’s mugs, first Tarish’s, then Kacia’s, then mine, her movements smooth and practiced. She doesn’t say a word, just drifts through the room like she belongs there, casual but a little too eager. No one drinks from the new cups, not yet. The coffee sits untouched, steam curling faintly in the firelight. I watch her carefully as she settles back down, and the thought creeps in unbidden. Maybe this is just her way of sucking up to Tarish. A little show of helpfulness, an imitation of humility. Not something I ever thought I’d see from Raylah. But Tarish doesn’t even glance her way. His attention remains firmly on Kacia. She looks decidedly unimpressed, poor thing. She makes a soft coughing sound. Tarish just ignores her completely. He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his mug dangling from his fingers. 

“And you, are you happy?” He asks Kacia. Kacia blinks, startled again. 

“Happy?” She echoes. 

“Yes. It’s a simple enough word. Do you enjoy the life you’ve made? The company you keep?” He clarifies. His eyes flick briefly toward me, then back to her. Her lips twitch, and she huffs a faint laugh. 

“I mean… Yeah. Mostly. I have friends. People who put up with me.” Her gaze slides to me, and she adds with deliberate sweetness. 

“Some more begrudgingly than others.” She teases. I roll my eyes, but Tarish’s smile deepens faintly, like he’s enjoying himself. He asks her more, gently but insistently. About her mother. About her upbringing. About how she learned to hide the fae side of herself so carefully for so long. And Kacia… Well she answers every one of them honestly. She’s not even guarded, not here, not under this man’s steady gaze. Finally, there is a lull in the conversation. Kacia sits forward, her fingers tightening around her mug. Her voice steadies. 

“Can you help me?” She asks softly. Tarish raises a brow. 

“With what, exactly?” He asks. 

“My grandfather, with… Dealing with him.” She says. For the first time, the casual air falters. Tarish tilts his head, considering her words with cool, measured interest. Then his lips curve faintly.

“That… Depends entirely on what you aim to do.”