The sun had fully disappeared below the horizon, casting eerie shadows across the landscape as the carriage trundled along the worn dirt road. My sharp gaze took in every detail of our surroundings, my mind constantly mapping this new environment. The island's terrain had gradually shifted from coastal flatlands to gently rolling hills.

  I shifted in my seat, the dull ache in my muscles a constant reminder of the shackles that had bound me during the sea journey before Sam had intervened. The time confined in the ship's hold had left me stiff and sore, though I was careful not to show any weakness. Every movement was a deliberate balance between relieving discomfort and maintaining dignity.

  Across from me, Deacon had fallen into silence, occasionally glancing my way with that calculating stare that made my skin crawl. His fingers drummed a slow rhythm against his knee, the only sign of impatience in his otherwise perfectly controlled demeanor. The carriage lanterns cast shifting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw.

  "Joy," Sam called softly from the driver's seat, bringing the carriage to a slow stop. The sudden silence as the wheels ceased their turning was almost jarring after so long with their constant rumble. "Do you need anything? Are you comfortable?" He turned, his face appearing in the small window that connected the driver's perch to the cabin. His eyes searched my face for any sign of distress, genuine concern etched into his features.

  "Thank you, but I'm fine," I replied with a curt nod, my voice betraying none of my internal turmoil. My enhanced hearing allowed me to detect Sam's heartbeat quicken in response to my words, a flutter of acceleration that told me more than his carefully composed expression. He cared, or at least believed he did. Such attachments were dangerous, both for him and for me.

  "Alright then," he murmured, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to the reins. The carriage lurched forward once more, the horses snorting softly as they resumed their steady pace.

  We continued down the winding road, the wheels occasionally striking stones that sent jolts through the cabin. The moon had risen, nearly full, casting a silvery light across the landscape.

  As we continued on our journey, Sam slowed the carriage several more times to check on me. Each time, I couldn't help but notice the dark circles beneath his eyes and the tension in his jaw. The journey had clearly taken its toll on him as well, though for different reasons than mine.

  "Samuel, really," Deacon drawled from where he sat on the opposite bench, breaking the silence that had stretched between us. "You're being positively overbearing. The girl is more than capable of taking care of herself, isn't that right?" His gaze locked onto mine, daring me to contradict him.

  "Of course," I said flatly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I despised him already. Despite my distaste for Deacon, I could handle his petty provocations. I'd faced far worse in Naerith, where words were the least of the weapons used against me. "Sam's just being considerate," I added firmly, looking Deacon straight in the eyes. "I appreciate his concern."

  Deacon chuckled darkly, a predatory glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, his knees brushing against mine, making my skin crawl with discomfort. The contact was a deliberate pushing of boundaries to see how I would react.

  My jaw tightened, anger flaring within me at the implication. I wasn't a fool, I knew exactly what Deacon was suggesting. The idea that Sam's kindness must be motivated by some baser desire was insulting to us both, but I held my tongue. Rising to Deacon's bait would only give him the reaction he craved.

  I could hear Sam's frustration too, even from where he sat at the front of the carriage. His breathing had quickened, and I detected the slight creak of leather as his grip on the reins tightened. He was listening to every word, fighting his own battle to maintain composure.

  "Watch your mouth, Deacon," Sam called out sternly. Though his tone remained level, there was an edge to it that hadn't been there before.

  "Alright, alright," Deacon replied nonchalantly, leaning back and smirking at me. "Just making conversation. The journey's so dreadfully dull otherwise."

  As the carriage continued on its path, I tried to focus on anything else but Deacon's presence. The sound of the carriage wheels turning over the uneven terrain filled the air, along with the rhythmic breathing of the horses up ahead. I focused on these sounds, letting my enhanced senses filter through the night, picking up details no human could perceive.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  In the distance, I could hear the faint murmur of running water, a stream or small river, perhaps. Closer, the rustling of small creatures in the underbrush beside the road, nocturnal animals going about their business, untroubled by human concerns. The night was alive with sounds, and I let them wash over me, a welcome distraction from the tension inside the carriage.

  The road began to descend slightly, curving around the base of a hill. Through gaps in the trees, I caught glimpses of lights ahead—not the warm, flickering light of homes, but harder, brighter illumination that spoke of commerce and activity even at this late hour. We were approaching some kind of settlement.

  Sam glanced back at us once more, his eyes finding mine in the dim light of the carriage lanterns. His expression was filled with concern and apology, a silent communication that I acknowledged with the slightest nod. Whatever lay ahead, at least I wouldn't face it entirely alone.

  "Keep your eyes on the road, Sam," Deacon snapped, shattering the momentary connection between us. "Don't need you getting distracted by our lovely demon friend here. I'd hate for us to end up in a ditch because you couldn't stop mooning over your cargo."

  "Enough, Deacon," Sam warned, his voice strained with annoyance. He turned his attention back to the road, his shoulders rigid with tension.

  "My deepest apologies, Sam," Deacon replied sarcastically, with a mocking half-bow that couldn't be seen from the driver's seat. "I had no idea you'd become so... attached.”

  The carriage emerged from the trees into a more open area, and the source of the lights became clear. Ahead of us lay a sprawling complex of buildings, surrounded by a high wall. Torches blazed at regular intervals along the top of the wall, and more light shone from within the compound. Even from this distance, I could make out the movement of figures, guards patrolling the perimeter, workers moving between buildings.

  "The market," Deacon said, noting my attention. "Quite the operation, isn't it? Been here for generations. Started small, of course, just a few merchants trading in exotic goods. But over time... well, demand creates opportunity, as they say."

  I said nothing, but my stomach twisted at his casual tone. This was where demons like me were bought and sold. How many had passed through these gates, never to know freedom again?

  "Another mile or so, and we'll arrive at the main entrance," Sam called out from the front of the carriage. The edge in his voice betrayed his true feelings, and I knew he was growing increasingly frustrated with Deacon's behavior. "From there, we'll get Joy settled for the night."

  "Can't wait to stretch my legs," Deacon said, his tone dripping with insinuation. "Such a lovely night for a stroll, don't you think, Joy? Or perhaps you'd prefer something more... exhilarating?" He emphasized the last word with a smile that made my blood run cold.

  I clenched my jaw, refusing to acknowledge him. Instead, I focused on the sound of Sam's muttered curses as he drove, just barely audible above the din of the journey. I found a strange comfort in his grumbling, knowing that at least I wasn't alone in my disdain for Deacon.

  "Really, Joy, don't be shy," Deacon continued, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. "We're all friends here... well, as friendly as a human can be with a demon, I suppose. Though Sam seems to have a rather unique interpretation of 'friendly.'" He cast a meaningful glance toward the driver's window.

  "Deacon, stop it," Sam snapped, his patience finally reaching its breaking point. "You've made your point. Now leave her alone."

  "Touchy, touchy," Deacon chuckled, unfazed by Sam's attempt to intervene. "I was only trying to lighten the mood. It's such a dreary journey, after all."

  "Your idea of lightening the mood is making everyone uncomfortable," Sam retorted, his voice tight with anger. "Some of us actually care about treating people with basic decency."

  "People?" Deacon raised an eyebrow. "Interesting choice of words for a demon handler. But then again, you always were soft, Samuel. It's why you'll never advance beyond your current position. No stomach for the realities of the business."

  "Sam, it's fine," I interjected, forcing myself to speak up. I didn't want my silence to be mistaken for submission or fear. The tension between the two men was escalating, and while part of me enjoyed seeing Deacon provoked, I didn't want Sam risking his position, or worse, on my account. "I can handle Deacon's... comments." I left the unspoken 'for now' hanging in the air.

  "See, Joy here is a grown demon," Deacon smirked. "She doesn't need your constant protection. Why don't you focus on getting us to our destination? The sooner we arrive, the sooner you can be rid of my company—something I'm sure you're desperately looking forward to."

  Sam brought the carriage to an abrupt halt, the horses whinnying in protest at the sudden command. He turned fully in his seat, fixing Deacon with a glare so intense I could feel its heat even without being its target. "I've had enough of your games, Deacon. One more word and I'll personally see to it that the Chairman hears about how you've been conducting yourself."

  Deacon's smile faltered slightly, though he recovered quickly. "The Chairman?" he scoffed, but there was a new tension in his posture. "By all means, Samuel, report me. I'm sure he'll be fascinated to hear how his most reliable courier has developed such a... personal interest in the merchandise."

  Sam's face flushed with anger, but before he could respond, I spoke up.

  "Sam," I interjected, struggling to maintain my composure. This petty battle wasn't worth the risk to either of us. "I'm fine. Let's just keep going."

  He hesitated, studying my face for a moment before nodding and urging the horses back into motion. I could feel Deacon's eyes still fixed on me, but I refused to acknowledge him.