Page 105 of Demon’s Snack

“Archive exception,” I whisper.

The band around my wrist spits sparks.

Vaerith’s eyes flash.

I pull my arm free.

Pain tears through my shoulder as the remaining ward resists, but one free hand is enough. I press the ring against the throat band and speak the rest of the loophole I memorized when I was seventeen and angry enough to survive on spite.

“Labor access supersedes corrective restraint during active damage assessment.”

The ward collapses in a burst of cold light.

I stumble sideways, catch the desk edge, and stay on my feet.

Vaerith does not lunge. He is too disciplined for that. His fury moves inward instead, turning his stillness lethal.

“You have been reading things above your station.”

“My station has always been badly labeled.”

“You think the hybrid can protect you?”

“I think you are afraid he might not be the monster you need.”

His control slips enough to show teeth.

“Run, then,” he says softly. “Let us see how far bloodline curiosities get without walls.”

I pick up my satchel, though my fingers still burn with returning sensation. “Farther than property.”

Then I walk out before my knees can realize what just happened.

I do not run until I reach my chamber.

Once inside, I lock the door, wedge a chair beneath the handle, and let my breathing shake for exactly three breaths. The room is small, practical, and too familiar: narrow bed, washstand, writing desk, wardrobe with the warped hinge, one hidden panel behind the loose baseboard where I keep everything Vaerith never thought a ward would need.

I pull the panel open.

Coins first. Not enough, never enough, but better than nothing. Copies of the shell contracts. Dareth-Ardyn notes. Vaerith’s memorandum. A spare knife with a cracked bone handle. Two vials of ink. One roll of coded correspondence paper. I pack them into the ledger satchel beneath ordinary account sheets and a worn shawl.

Mira slips in through the adjoining service door without knocking.

Her eyes go straight to my wrists.

“What did he do?”

“Temporary pinning ward.”

Her face goes white with fury. “I will poison him.”

“Later.”

“I mean that with love and planning.”

“I know.”

“He hurt you.”