2. Mira

2

MIRA

I hold my breath, waiting for the demon to grab me, to call the authorities. Instead, he watches the twins with an expression I've never seen on a demon before - something almost... gentle.

"They like you." His deep voice breaks the silence. He runs a hand through his copper-red hair, loosening strands from the leather tie. "Haven't taken to anyone like that since their mother passed."

I keep my eyes down, hands trembling. "I should go-"

"You're running from someone." Not a question. At first, I think he's referencing my earlier comment, but then his violet eyes flick to my wrist where the brand stands stark against my skin. I tug my sleeve down.

"I won't cause trouble. Please, just let me-"

"I need help with them." He gestures to the twins, who are now attempting to climb up my skirts like a tree. "Can't run a forge and watch two toddlers. Been trying, but..." He shrugs those broad shoulders, burn scars visible on his forearms. "Stay. Help me with them. In exchange, you'll have sanctuary here."

My head snaps up. "What?"

"Room, board, protection. Whatever you're running from won't find you."

It has to be a trap. Demons don't help humans without ulterior motives. I've learned that lesson well enough. "Why would you-"

"Because they need someone." He kneels down, gently detaching Nova from my skirt. "And you need somewhere to hide."

"You don't know anything about me."

"Know enough." His eyes meet mine. "Know you're gentle with them. Patient. That's rare to find." He stands, towering over me. "Your choice. Stay or go. But if you stay, you have my word - no one touches you."

A demon's word should mean nothing to me. I've heard too many broken promises. But there's something in his voice, in the way he handles the twins with such care despite those scarred blacksmith's hands...

"I... I'll stay. For now."

I follow the demon - Karn, I'd heard the girls call him - up a narrow staircase behind the forge. The wooden steps creak under our feet while tiny hands grip my skirts, the twins refusing to let go.

"Nova, Luna, let her walk," Karn rumbles, but there's no bite to his words.

The upstairs opens into a modest living space that tells the story of a man doing his best. Wooden blocks scatter across the floor like fallen leaves. A half-folded basket of laundry sits abandoned on a worn sofa, tiny socks missing their matches spilling over the edge. Pots hang above a kitchen hearth, their bottoms blackened from what I suspect were cooking mishaps.

"Your room." Karn pushes open a door, revealing a small but clean space with a bed and chest of drawers. "Was storage, but..." He scratches his neck. "Well, it's yours now."

Luna tugs my skirt. "And this is ours!" She pulls me to the next room down the hall. "Play with us!"

"Luna, give her time to-" Karn starts.

"It's alright." I kneel down to their level. "What would you like to play?"

Nova, the quieter twin, holds up a wooden horse missing one leg. "Fix him?"

"Of course we can fix him." I examine the toy. "Do you have any-"

"Tools in the forge," Karn interjects. "I've been meaning to..." He trails off, gesturing at a pile of broken toys in the corner.

The rest of the main room reveals more signs of chaos barely contained - picture books with torn pages carefully mended with strips of leather, tiny dresses hung to dry with patches sewn in different colored threads, a rocking chair with one runner slightly off-kilter. Everything speaks of someone trying their hardest but spread too thin.

"Uncle Karn bad at sewing," Luna announces, pointing at a particularly crooked patch on her sister's dress.

Karn rubs at the back of his neck. "I'm learning."

"I can help with that too," I offer softly. "I'm good with a needle."

His shoulders relax slightly. "Appreciate it." He runs a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture I'm beginning to recognize. "I probably should go finish locking up-"

"Story first!" Nova demands, already dragging a book from under a pile of cushions.

"I can read to them," I say. "If that's alright?"

The look of relief on his face answers before his words do.

I settle into the worn rocking chair, a twin on each knee. Their copper curls tickle my chin as they snuggle close, finally winding down. It's late for girls their age to be still up, but I don't mind the company. It's nice after everything I've run from. The leather-bound book lies open across their laps, its pages well-loved and dog-eared as I read, letting it chase away my own nightmares.

"One more page," Luna mumbles, fighting to keep her violet eyes open.

"You said that three pages ago." I smooth her wild curls. Nova's already half-asleep, her tiny hand curled into my dress.

From his spot leaning against the doorframe, Karn watches us with an unreadable expression, having come back upstairs a few moments ago. The dim light catches on the scars on his arms, mapping stories that I wonder if I should fear.

I pull my eyes back to the book. If nothing else, I need the distraction that I agreed to let my guard down enough to be around this demon family. But I fear what Karn will expect in return - even if he doesn't seem like that kind of demon.

"The princess found her way home," I continue softly, letting my voice drop lower with each word. "Following the stars just like her mother taught her..."

Luna's head grows heavier against my shoulder. I glance up to find Karn's eyes still on us, something almost wistful in his gaze.

"They never settle this easily," he whispers.

I carefully close the book, years of practice helping me shift both girls without waking them. "Here, let me-"

"I've got them." He crosses the room in two silent strides, gathering them up with a gentleness that belies his size. The twins instinctively curl into his chest, Nova's hand clutching his shirt.

I follow him to their bed, pulling back the quilted covers while he lays them down. Luna immediately rolls toward her sister, their hands finding each other even in sleep.

"Sweet dreams, little stars," he murmurs, brushing a kiss across each forehead.

We creep backward, avoiding the squeaky floorboard I'd discovered earlier. I hold my breath until we're safely in the hallway, pulling their door mostly closed.

"You're good with them," he says quietly.

"I helped raise the younger girls in my last..." I stop, unable to say the word. "Before."

His jaw tightens but he doesn't press. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, loosening more strands from the tie. "Thank you. For today. For staying."

"Thank you for letting me." He only nods, and at that, we've run out of things to say.

A low rumble breaks the silence. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I'm fine." I wrap my arms around my middle, willing my stomach to stay quiet. The hunger pangs have become familiar friends. A few days are nothing compared to what I've endured before.

"That's not what I asked." His violet eyes catch mine, holding them with quiet intensity. "Kitchen. Now."

I follow him down the hall, my feet silent on the wooden floors - a habit burned into muscle memory. He fills the narrow space, his broad shoulders nearly brushing both walls. The forge work has built him like the steel he shapes, all hard angles and strength, yet he moves with surprising grace for his size.

The kitchen holds more evidence of his struggles with domestic life. Pots are stacked haphazardly, their handles pointing in different directions. A basket of vegetables sits half-sorted on the counter, as if he'd started organizing and gotten pulled away.

"Sit." He pulls out a chair at the heavy wooden table.

"Really, I don't want to be any trouble-"

"Not trouble." He starts pulling items from cupboards, his movements precise despite his size. "Can't have you passing out while watching the girls."

My protests die as he sets bread and cheese before me, followed by dried meat and fruit. Simple fare, but my mouth waters at the sight.

"Eat." He cuts thick slices of bread, his scarred hands gentle with the knife. "Got enough to feed an army. Twins never finish their plates anyway."

I take a small bite of bread, then another. He watches until I've eaten several proper mouthfuls before turning to pour us both cups of water.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words feeling inadequate.

He grunts in response, settling into the chair across from me. Despite his intimidating size, he's careful to leave plenty of space between us, angling his body so I don't feel trapped. It's a small gesture, but one that speaks volumes.

"Got to feed you up," he says gruffly, pushing the cheese closer. "You're too thin."

I take another bite, watching as he absently rubs at a burn scar on his forearm. For a demon known for working with fire and metal, his touch holds nothing but gentleness.

"Be right back." And then he turns and leaves.

The simple meal settles warm in my stomach as Karn disappears upstairs. His heavy footsteps return moments later, a bundle of fabric in his arms.

"Best I can do for now." He sets the clothes on the table, keeping his distance. "They'll be big, but they're clean."

I touch the soft material - a long-sleeved tunic and loose pants, both well-worn. They smell of forge smoke and… like him. Masculine in a way that should frighten me but doesn't.

"The washroom's through there." He points down the hall. "Just touch the runes by the door to heat the water."

I gather the clothes, holding them close. "Thank you."

The washroom gleams with copper fixtures, runes etched into the metal glowing faintly purple. I press my hand to the marking by the large tub, gasping as steaming water flows from nowhere. Magic - real magic, not the parlor tricks my last master's pet mages performed.

I scrub quickly, efficiently, habits too ingrained to break. The demon's clothes dwarf me, but they're soft against my skin. I have to roll the sleeves several times and tie the pants tight with their drawstring.

My new room is sparse but clean, with fresh linens on the bed and a small window overlooking the garden. I slip under the covers, my body finally relaxing after days of running.

Through the wall, a deep voice starts singing softly. The twins must have stirred, and he went to check on them. I hold my breath, straining to hear.

Karn's voice is surprisingly gentle, rumbling like distant thunder. The lullaby continues, full of stars and moons and magical things. One of the twins - Luna, I think - giggles sleepily.

"Again, Uncle Karn!"

"One more time, then sleep," he murmurs, starting the song over.

Something shifts in my chest, an ache I can't name. I press my hand there, feeling my heartbeat beneath his borrowed shirt. This demon who works with fire and metal, who bears scars from his craft, sings his nieces to sleep with such tenderness.

I curl onto my side, letting his voice wash over me through the wall until my eyes grow heavy.