“It is meant to be comforting.”
Her lips twitch despite herself. This time she doesn’t correct the pet name, so I consider it a win.
For a moment she simply studies me, arms loosely folded as though weighing the best place to begin. The firelight paints warm gold along the curve of her cheek, and the bond warms with the quiet strength of her composure.
Then she says, “Before we discuss anything else… do you have a name?”
I arch a brow.
“Of course.”
“And you were planning on sharing it eventually?”
“Perhaps.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
She exhales through her nose in a way that suggests she has already decided arguing about it will be useless.
“Fine,” she says. “Keep your mysterious demon identity for a moment longer. I have a more immediate problem.”
That catches my attention.
“Oh?”
“The fires.”
Her tone shifts into the calm precision of a healer presenting her diagnosis.
“They follow fear,” she says. “Not anger. Not irritation. Helpless fear.”
I nod slowly.
“Correct.”
“And the bond answers it.”
“Yes, princes.”
She gestures vaguely toward her chest. “Then I need to learn how to stop that from happening.”
Her gaze locks with mine. “And you are going to teach me.”
I cannot help the faint smile that curves across my mouth.
“You assume I have agreed.”
“You will.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t,” she replies calmly, “the next time I panic you might burn half the village down.”
A fair point. I take a slow step closer.
“You are remarkably comfortable issuing orders to a creature that could level this village before sunset. Why do you think I care for it?”
