Part of his staff. Not as anything else. Not as someone he?—
I cut that thought off before it can complete. This is professional. A practical decision based on beast handling logistics. Nothing more.
So why does it feel like everything?
"Alright," I hear myself say. "When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. Before dawn." Something flickers in his eyes—relief? satisfaction?—before his expression settles back into neutrality. "Pack light. One bag. We'll be traveling by carriage with Khorvas in a transport cage."
I nod, my mind already racing through implications I shouldn't be considering. It's just one night. I'm used to being around him every day, anyway. But it does mean being away from the stables and the rigid structure that keeps our interactions controlled and minimal.
My heart pounds against my ribs, and I have to consciously steady my breathing before speaking again. "Is there anything specific I should prepare?"
"Standard work garments are fine. The event is functional, not social." He finally moves, stepping toward the barrier with deliberate purpose. "I'll brief you on Khorvas's transport requirements tonight. Meet me in the main stable office after evening feeding."
He's leaving now. Creating distance again before whatever is building between us can become something neither of us can ignore.
And I let him go because I'm not sure what to make of it.
The carriage ridetakes most of the morning, and I spend it pressed against the far wall, watching volcanic terrain give way to something softer. Less hostile. The transition feels wrong, like we're moving backward into memory rather than forward into new territory.
Malrec sits across from me, his attention fixed on documentation spread across his lap. He hasn't looked at me directly since we loaded Khorvas into the transport cage attached behind the carriage. Just occasional glances that feel more like surveillance than acknowledgment.
Damiros arrived at the estate right as we were departing, apparently joining us for the auction. I wasn't expecting that. The older Virex brother settled into the seat beside Malrec with easy familiarity, greeting me with polite neutrality that somehow felt more unsettling than outright hostility would have.
Now he watches me. Not constantly, but frequently enough that I feel it. His sharp green-gold eyes track my movements with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness. There's something in his expression I can't identify—somethingthat looks almost like concern mixed with calculation mixed with something heavier that I don't have a name for.
I don't like it.
I shift my attention out the window, focusing on the landscape instead of the weight of two demon gazes that feel like they're trying to read something written on my skin.
"How is Azhrael adjusting?" Damiros asks, his voice carrying that same polished neutrality. "I understand you've been working with him regularly."
I glance at him, unsure how to navigate this conversation. "He's calmer. More responsive to routine."
"Responsive to you, specifically." It's not a question. Damiros leans back slightly, his posture relaxed in a way that contrasts with the sharpness of his attention. "That's unusual for a beast of his classification."
My jaw tightens. I don't know what game we're playing here, but I can feel the undercurrents running beneath his words. "I treat him with respect. Consistency. Most beasts respond well to that."
"Most beasts, yes." Damiros's gaze flickers to Malrec briefly before returning to me. "Azhrael is not most beasts."
Malrec makes a low sound that might be agreement or warning. I can't tell which. His attention remains fixed on his documentation, but his shoulders have gone tighter, his posture more rigid.
The air in the carriage feels thick. Charged with something I don't understand but can feel pressing against my chest.
I return my attention to the window and keep it there.
The estate emergesfrom the landscape like something grown rather than built. Stone and iron rising in careful tiers, surrounded by reinforced enclosures that ripple withcontainment magic I can sense even from a distance. It's massive, clearly designed to house multiple beast collections during auction events.
And it feels familiar.
Not in the way Malrec's voice sometimes feels familiar, or the way certain moments with Azhrael trigger recognition I can't explain. This is different. More physical. Like my body knows this place even though my mind insists I've never seen it before.
My chest tightens as we approach, and I press my hand against the window frame to steady myself.
"You've been here before," Damiros says quietly.
I snap my attention to him, my heart suddenly beating too fast. "No. I haven't."
