Page 98 of Demon’s Snack

“What?” I ask.

Sable folds her arms. “You matched her breathing before mine.”

I blink. “Are you jealous of respiratory influence?”

“I am evaluating priorities.”

“My priorities are currently not dying, not eating anyone, and not letting Vaerith turn Isolde into legal stationery. You are very high on the list after those.”

“Charming.”

“I thought so.”

Isolde glances toward the estate district, where voices still carry faintly through the damp evening. “We should separate before patrols organize.”

“No,” I say.

Both of them look at me.

I hold up one hand because I know that tone will start a war if I do not repair it quickly. “I mean no to you going back there right now.”

Isolde’s face cools. “I cannot simply vanish.”

“You publicly contradicted Vaerith and stood beside me in front of the district while his ritual burned open.”

“Yes.”

“He will not welcome you home with tea.”

“No. He will likely choose wine.”

Sable’s brows rise. “I like her.”

“Do not encourage her,” I say.

Isolde’s mouth flickers. “Too late.”

The humor lasts only a breath.

Behind us, a group of humans hurries past the end of the lane, speaking in frantic whispers. I catch fragments.

“Bound demon…”

“…inside the pedestal…”

“…hybrid stopped it…”

“…didn’t kill anyone…”

A second cluster follows, this one with a dark elf clerk half-running while clutching papers to his chest. “Preservation order,” he snaps at someone beside him. “Lady Syrenya demanded a preservation order, and the guild heard her.”

The words spread faster than smoke.

Vaerith staged a demon attack.

The hybrid did not massacre anyone.

The circle showed hidden lines.