"When's Domno coming?" Erisen asks immediately, his eyes scanning the marketplace. The disappointment on his face when he doesn't spot the demon makes my chest ache.
"I don't know if he will today, Eri."
His small face falls, but he quickly brightens. "I made him something!" He tugs a folded square of paper from his pocket, carefully opening it to reveal a childish drawing—three figures holding hands beneath a red sky. "It's us! See?" His finger points to each figure in turn. "That's me, and you, and Domno. Can I give it to him when he comes?"
"Erisen..." I begin, not knowing how to explain that some people don't stay, that attachments are dangerous, that we can't afford to trust so easily.
But the words die in my throat as a familiar shadow falls across us. I look up to find Domno standing there, his massive frame blocking the sun. Today, he looks less like the predator I first encountered and more like a man who hasn't slept any better than I have. There's a tension in his shoulders that wasn'tpresent yesterday, a wariness in his golden eyes as they meet mine.
"Domno!" Erisen launches himself forward, small arms wrapping around the demon's legs without hesitation. "Look what I made you!"
Domno's face softens as he crouches down to examine the drawing, those lethal hands unbelievably gentle as they handle the creased paper. "This is very good," he says, voice rough with what might be emotion. "Is this us?"
Erisen nods enthusiastically. "Can we go looking for more special rocks today? Please?"
Domno's eyes lift to mine, seeking permission. "I thought the boy might like to walk to the eastern shore. The tide brings in unusual stones after a rain."
My heart stutters. He's asking to take Erisen alone. Away from the market. Away from me.
I've never allowed anyone to be alone with my son. Not the man who got us here on his wagon, not anyone in the market who employs me, not even the neighbors who've shown us nothing but generosity. Six years of vigilance screams against the very idea.
Yet something in Domno's steady gaze makes me hesitate. I remember how he carried Erisen to bed last night, his movements careful despite hands that could crush bone without effort. I recall the protective stance he took in the marketplace days ago, placing himself between my son and danger without thought for himself.
Still, trust comes slowly when you've lived as I have.
"I—" My voice catches. I clear my throat, aware of Erisen's hopeful expression and Domno's patient wait. "I don't think?—"
"Nothing will happen to him, Esalyn." Domno's voice is strong and steady and sure. His eyes hold mine. "You know I won't let any harm come near him."
"I'll come with you both," I say, watching Erisen's face fall slightly. And I try not to let it bother me. I want him to trust others, and it's good if he doesn't always need me. "But I can stay back a little. Give you two some space." The compromise feels monumental, like stepping onto a frozen lake not knowing if the ice will hold.
Domno's expression shifts subtly. Something like respect softens his sharp features. "The shoreline just past the eastern market stalls. We won't go beyond the black rocks."
I nod, throat tight. "I need to finish here first." I gesture to the remaining fruit that needs sorting.
"We'll wait." The simplicity of his statement soothes something in me—no argument, no attempt to rush or persuade.
Erisen bounces on his toes, impatient but trying so hard to be good, clutching his drawing like a talisman. His dark hair falls over his forehead, nearly hiding those eyes that mark him as something other than human. In moments like these, with excitement flushing his cheeks, he looks so young, so unburdened by our circumstances. I want to preserve that lightness for him, even as every protective instinct screams at me to never let him out of arm's reach.
I finish my work in record time, nodding goodbye to the old woman whose knowing eyes follow me with too much understanding. She's seen too much of life not to recognize what's happening, even if I refuse to name it myself.
We walk to the shore together, Erisen between us, his small hand slipping naturally into Domno's massive one. The demon's fingers close around my son's with a gentleness that seems impossible for someone his size. Every so often, Domno glances down at Erisen with an expression I can't fully decipher—something between wonder and uncertainty, as though he can't quite believe this child trusts him so completely.
At the shoreline, I hang back as promised, finding a sun-warmed rock to sit on while they move ahead. The tide has indeed left treasures scattered across the volcanic black sand—gleaming shells, tumbled stones, fragments of sea glass worn smooth by time and water. Erisen crouches to examine each potential treasure, his small body vibrating with excitement.
But it's Domno who captures and holds my attention. The fearsome demon hunter moves with surprising patience, crouching beside my son without complaint, listening intently to Erisen's chatter as though every word matters. His massive frame dwarfs Erisen's, yet there's nothing threatening in his posture. He points to something in the sand, and Erisen's delighted laugh carries back to me on the salt-laden breeze.
I press my palm against my chest, trying to identify the strange ache building there. It's jealousy, yes, but not the bitter, angry kind. It's a wistful longing for something I'd convinced myself I'd never have—someone who looks at my child and sees not a burden or a weapon or a half-breed, but simply a boy worthy of kindness and attention.
And perhaps, buried deeper, a longing for someone who might look at me and see more than just Erisen's mother, more than just a woman on the run. Someone who might see the parts of me I'd locked away years ago when Vorrak's cruelty taught me that desire was dangerous, that wanting invited pain.
Last night's kiss rises in my memory again, making my skin flush hot despite the cool ocean breeze. The way Domno had held me—firm but never restraining, passionate but never demanding—had awakened something I thought long dead. Even now, watching his broad back as he bends to help Erisen dig something from the sand, I can feel the ghost of his hands on my waist, the heat of his mouth on mine.
Erisen's excited cry pulls me from these dangerous thoughts. He's racing toward me, something clutched in his small fist, Domno following at a more measured pace.
"Mama! Look what we found!" He skids to a stop before me, opening his palm to reveal a perfectly formed spiral shell, iridescent in the sunlight. "Domno says it's very rare. Can I keep it?"
"Of course," I smile, touching the smooth surface. "It's beautiful."
