Dis is Hex’s enemy. The weapon who carried out the coup. The being who sat on Hex’s throne and ruled in his place. Who made Hex’s life a living nightmare for months.
But Dis is also a fellow shadow being. One who is currently trapped and powerless and probably broadcasting distress signals across multiple dimensions.
I have no idea whose side Hex will take.
My mind races, trying to come up with an excuse. A reason Adam shouldn’t be here. Anything that would get him to leave and stay away until I’ve figured out how to hide Dis better.
But I can’t think of anything. My sleep-deprived brain is blank. Every excuse I try to formulate dissolves before it reaches my mouth.
“That’s great,” I hear myself say. “Really great. Good to have you back.”
The words taste like ash in my mouth.
Adam beams. He actually beams. Like I’ve just given him a gift instead of the world’s most unconvincing welcome.
“I’ve missed this,” he says, grabbing an apron. “The routine. The customers. Working with you.”
Something twists in my chest. Guilt, maybe. Or grief for the simpler time when my biggest problem was making sure the pastry order arrived on time.
I force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Missed you too.”
It’s not a lie. I have missed him. Missed the easy comfort of working alongside my best friend. Missed the version of my life where I wasn’t keeping devastating secrets.
We get to work. Adam handles the pastry delivery while I set up the espresso machine. Everything is perfectly normal. Perfectly fine. I’m absolutely not panicking about the fact that my best friend is standing three meters away from a trapped shadow king.
Or that his fiancé could appear at any moment.
I keep glancing at the shadows. Every dark corner feels like a potential Hex appearance. The temperature in the shop is completely normal, but I can’t stop checking, waiting for that telltale drop that means a shadow being is manifesting.
The morning passes in a blur of orders and small talk. Adam chatters about a trip to some gallery in London. Something about Pre-Raphaelite paintings and Hex having opinions about historical accuracy in depictions of medieval armour.
“He got quite worked up about the rivets,” Adam says, laughing. “Apparently they’re all wrong in Waterhouse’spaintings. He gave me a twenty-minute lecture on proper fourteenth century plate construction.”
I make appropriate noises. Nod in the right places. Try very hard not to think about what’s happening upstairs.
But I can’t help watching Adam. The way he lights up when he talks about Hex. The unconscious way he touches the ring on his finger. The softness in his expression when he mentions something Hex said or did.
He’s happy. Genuinely, completely happy.
And I’m lying to him.
The guilt tries to surface again. I shove it down with the same ruthless efficiency I’ve been using for days.
I didn’t ask for this situation. Dis created it when he burned my flat down. When he used me as bait. When he made it very clear that my life meant nothing to him.
If keeping secrets from Adam is the price of making Dis pay for that, then so be it.
“Felix?”
I blink. Adam is looking at me with concern.
“You okay? You zoned out there for a second.”
“Fine. Just tired.”
He doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t push. Just gives me that worried look that means he’s filing this away to bring up later when I’m more receptive.
Except there won’t be a later. Not if Hex shows up and discovers what I’ve done.
