Page 58 of Demon’s Snack

I lower my eyes again. “Gone before the guard arrived.”

Vaerith studies me in silence long enough that I can hear rain ticking against the umbrella silk above him.

“You saw him clearly?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

I let hesitation enter carefully, enough to look honest. “He appeared unstable.”

“Frightened?”

The word surprises me.

Vaerith notices that too.

“Yes,” I say slowly. “Frightened.”

His expression sharpens with visible interest.

Not sympathy.

Fascination.

“How unusual,” he murmurs.

The disgust I feel nearly slips through my composure.

Vaerith steps past me toward the fractured stones. He studies the infernal residue without visible discomfort, one gloved hand clasped behind his back.

“Efficient consumption,” he says quietly. “Rapid integration. Minimal environmental bleed.”

He sounds impressed.

The bond warms suddenly, fiercely enough that I almost look west toward where Corin fled. I stop myself just in time.

Vaerith’s eyes flick toward me anyway.

I feel exposed all the way through my bones.

“Return to the estate,” he says at last. “You look pale.”

“I am capable of walking.”

“I did not imply otherwise.”

The attendant shifts the umbrella slightly as Vaerith turns away. “Talen,” he says without looking back, “secure the area. Quietly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And do stop provoking infernal entities in public streets unless you intend to survive the consequences.”

Talen freezes.

So do I.

The reprimand is mild enough to be deniable. The message beneath it is not.