She dodged the blow and crouched down. The reptilian calm she experienced during a fight started to take over. By the time she rose, he was preparing for a second assault. She rose slowly, giving him ample time to prepare, the pitcher gripped in her left hand.
He was a bulky man, strong and possessing more than enough brute force. But she was used to that. He grabbed the water pitcher off the dining table and threw it at her. Although he missed her head, the heavy metal pitcher bounced off her shoulder with a thunk, its contents soaking her shirt.
"Do you really want to do this?" Miran asked, offering him one last chance to back down. A fight with him would solve nothing. Since the magistrate was involved, the dispute would be judged by the closest member of the peerage to Ashward town, and that was her grandmother.
She could live with another punishment from her grandmother. But she couldn't live with Wilda and the rest of the villagers finding out who she was. It would be the end of her freedom. It was a petty thing, in the larger scheme of things, but if she lost her anonymity in Ashward she would have nowhere else to go. The nearest town was a day's ride away, and the people there were not welcoming to strangers like the people of Ashward were.
He swung his fist again and fell back with a cry as it met the hard surface of the water pitcher.
"That's a broken finger or two, for sure. Now, let's stop. You need to calm down."
It was the tone her swordmaster used when emotions rose during fights. It worked on disciplined fighters, but Gritt only grew angrier.
"Cousin, please!" Wilda cried. "And you too, Mira!"
"If this continues, I'll file a complaint with Lady Carmanor!" Miran proclaimed. The townspeople were afraid of Avis, but Avis was petrified of her grandmother. It had been decades ago her father sacrificed his life for their country, but their king still remembered. It also helped that Taro commanded respect from most of the peerage of the country. She was a decent noble, but Miran knew from personal experience that her grandmother did not believe in mercy or second chances.
"Who do you think the lady would believe? The magistrate and his friend, or a mongrel farmhand?" Avis asked.
"My mother works at the manor. I know the lady personally," Miran answered. "In this case, she'll believe the mongrel farmhand."
She saw Avis pale and knew her bluff was working. Her grandmother would never blindly trust the word of a commoner over that of the magistrate. Taro was impartial, often unconcerned with the affairs of those she considered beneath her.
"Mira, why don't you go home for today?" Wilda suggested. "I'll send Del to fetch you when I need you."
It wasn't the outcome she wanted. Wilda was shaking despite her seat near the fire. If Miran left, she would be outnumbered by the cruel people around her.
"Mira, please."
Miran scowled. She didn't understand the bonds of blood, how they dragged people down or imprisoned them with unwanted civilities and obligations. She huffed out a breath in frustration and left the house.
The night was cold and silent. The wind whispered through the high grasses and the wheat field. In the distance she heard the howl of a wolf, and the response of another from its pack.
"Sometimes giving help is hard," Rei said to her. Miran didn't flinch. She was used to the demon's sudden appearances and disappearances.
"I don't know how to help her," she admitted. "I'm not the lady of the Carmanor estate. I'm her heir yet I have no power. I could've beaten that man, but it wouldn't have solved anything. "
It was good that the thought of killing the man had not crossed her mind. Rei rubbed the pale skin of their chin. The sorcerer might not want her. She was strong, but she lacked the ruthlessness he demanded of his servants. Miran loved victory, but she was slow to a fight, reluctant to draw blood. The sorcerer did not like weak servants. He would either change her or release her from service. Rei hoped it would be the latter.
"I wish life would change for once," Miran muttered to herself. She knew Rei could hear. She suspected the demon could hear even her thoughts. The manor, the people, even the town of Ashward, were starting to feel too small for her. Her grandmother equipped her with all the knowledge adventurers had. She could speak several languages, was educated as much as she could be with private tutors, trained in fighting and swordplay, and expected to stay in Ashward. It felt like she was waiting for a command her grandmother and Rei didn't want to tell her about.
When she was a child, she could understand them thinking they knew better than her. But she was grown now, and she knew there was something about her own future they were hiding from her. It was strange for her grandmother and Rei to be of the same opinion on anything, and she frequently found herself wondering what their shared secret was. She knew about the promise, but she was not familiar with magic or sorcery. All she knew was that she would spend time away from Ashward. If anything, she was looking forward to the adventure.
"I'll accompany you home, there are creatures out at play tonight," Rei said. Miran sensed they weren't talking about the wolves. They walked back home in silence. Rei floated over the garden gate while she clambered over and landed on her knees on the other side. Sometimes she was jealous of his powers, but then she spotted the empty face, the dead alabaster skin, and embraced her own weak human shell, faults and weaknesses and all.
After she slipped between the covers, still dressed in her trousers, Rei took a seat next to her bed. It was a frequent ritual for them to do so, and they stroked her hair. She started to fall asleep. The silence in the room was replaced by a steady drone, a single voiced murmur like a hummingbird's heart.
It was Rei's version of a lullaby, one she was used to and often felt too old for. But today at least the sound was familiar and comforting. After Rei heard her heartbeat grow steady, they left the room.
Taro's servant stood outside, her ear at the door. At the sight of Rei she stumbled back, landing onto the voluminous skirt of her dress.
Their master was asking about Miran more frequently. Rei tried to be terse, to make Miran seem uninteresting, tried to present her as just another girl. But she wasn't just another girl, and the bindings around their wrists allowed their lies of omission but did not permit their deliberate falsehoods.
"Take me to your mistress," Rei said to the woman. She scampered up and dusted off her skirts, falling into a deep, obsequious curtsy before hurrying away down the corridor. Taro was still awake in her rooms, sipping at a glass of wine and poring over a book. When she saw Rei walk through the door she grimaced.
"Master will collect on his promise soon," they said. Taro nodded. It was as she expected, and she was not as sad as she expected to be. Her granddaughter was different from her. Miran was different from both her son and the ill-suited woman he'd chosen to marry. She was headstrong and willful.
The matter of the estate and lands was the only thing she was truly concerned about. If Miran survived working for the sorcerer, she could come back and take over the Carmanor lands and titles. But if she didn't, the distant cousins and destitute family would squabble over each other in her presence about who had the better claim to the massive inheritance.
"How long?" she asked.
"Perhaps by the summer," Rei answered. "It could be sooner."
"She will be ready."
Rei wanted to tell the old woman that there was no such thing as ready, not when it came to the sorcerer. He was a powerful man, and often unreasonable in his demands. It would take all the strength Miran had and more to overcome whatever he threw her way.
They instead nodded and headed out the door. From outside the manor they could sense Miran in her room, sleeping. Their blood flowed through her and had changed her through the years irreversibly. Energy came out of her in waves, and Rei felt them from a quarter of a mile away. It wasn't supposed to be so strong. Rei knew that strange things happened when demonic magic was introduced into a human. They had hoped she would inherit some of Rei's own powers, some of the unexplainable things beyond the magic usually harnessed by humans through spells, hexes, and potions.
Sorcerers gathered magic from the things around them. Nature, the sun, the moon, and the stars. Rei spent decades as a demon, but they still did not know where their own magic came from. They suspected it came from within them, a bottomless pool of magic that came sometimes unbidden.
The magic within Miran was of a wilder sort, an amalgamation of her own human warmth and the fiery, unholy power that belonged to demons. Rei sighed before wrapping themselves in the darkness and disappearing back to their master.