Page 23 of Demon’s Snack
“Does everything become a joke with you?”
“No.” His expression shifts, the humor thinning into something older and more guarded. “Only things that scare me.”
The honesty catches more sharply than charm would have. Around us, the courtyard continues its ordinary life. A vendor snaps at a child for touching the nut cones. A cart wheel bumps over a cracked stone. Somewhere behind me, an impatient clerk calls for a missing receipt. The world gives us noise enough to hide inside.
I lower my voice. “Are you afraid of me?”
His gaze holds mine, and for once he does not answer quickly. “I am afraid of what happens to me around you.”
I look down at my own hand before I do something foolish with it. “Last night, when Lord Vaerith touched my wrist, your aura changed.”
His jaw hardens at once. “That was Vaerith?”
“You know the name.”
“Everyone knows names like his. They spread stink even when the man isn’t in the room.”
“That is dangerously phrased.”
“I’m a dangerous fellow, apparently.”
“You restrained yourself.”
His mouth twists. “Barely.”
“But you did.”
“That doesn’t make me safe.”
“No. It makes you measurable.”
He lets out a breath that almost becomes a laugh. “That is somehow both insulting and reassuring.”
“It should be reassuring. Your hunger did not sharpen most when you saw me. It sharpened most when I appeared threatened.”
He looks away, scanning the courtyard with a restless, protective awareness that makes his glamour shimmer faintly at the edges. “You say that like it’s good.”
“It is information.”
“Information can still get people killed.”
“So can ignorance.”
He looks back at me then, and the force of his attention settles deep under my ribs. “You really are an analyst.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t a complaint.”
“I did not take it as one.”
“Good, because I have a feeling I’m going to need someone who can think in straight lines.”
“I do not think in straight lines.”
“No?”
“I think in clauses, exceptions, structural weaknesses, and probable betrayals.”
