Page 104 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

The words landed like a bag of stones. The deed was being sealed. Once it was done, it would be nearly impossible to undo. Everything she’d fought for—the children’s home, her mother’s legacy—was about to become Alderrath’s property.

The panic rose, sharp and fast, pressing against her ribs. Her hands found the front of his coat before she knew she’d moved, gripping the wool. “No—he can’t! We’re not ready, we⁠—”

Ark grasped her shoulders. “Look at me.” His voice was low, absolute. “I swear to you, I will use every resource, every ounce of influence I have. I will make him regret ever thinking he could take what’s yours.”

The certainty in his eyes cut through her terror. She stared at him, breath catching, hands fisting his coat like he was the only solid thing left. The panic quieted. A shaky calm took its place. She was about to retrieve her hand when he pressed it against his chest. His heart thudded beneath her palm—firm, steady.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Cassia froze. She thought of the night they met, how she’d only known his name from gossip papers, but not who he really was. She’d been desperate, reckless, willing to take a gamble on a stranger. But now she knew him, had held his trust in the palms of her hands when he showed her the shape of his true self. She knew he had stood in front of her when his own world turned on her.

And right now, with his heart beating beneath her palm, he was asking for her trust.

“Yes,” she said. “I trust you.”

Ark squeezed her hand, and a bone-deep knowledge settled in her chest: no matter what happened, she was not alone in this fight.

They walked on, and he didn’t release her hand.

After a few silent steps, as if he wanted to steer their conversation to lighter topics, Ark said, “You really didn’t like the dress?”

The question was so unexpected, so deliberately ordinary. She glanced over. “Opalina’s work is always gorgeous. When did I say I didn’t like it?”

“Earlier, you said, ‘it’ll have to do.’”

Cassia gave a small smile. “I suppose I meant I’ll have to do.”

She felt his gaze on her, even as her eyes stayed forward.

“Cassia, what does that mean?”

She sighed. “It’s an old habit, I suppose, downplaying things before someone else can.”

Ark was quiet for a step. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

She looked ahead again, her boots crunching faintly on salted cobblestones. “I suppose I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said lightly, “with someone who made a habit of naming my flaws before I could. I’ve learned that pointing them out myself softens the sting of embarrassment. Makes it less painful.”

Ark didn’t speak right away. He was watching her, waiting.

Finally, he stopped. “Who was it?”

She stopped beside him, and tried to laugh it off. “It’s a rather boring tale I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear.”

“If I didn’t want to hear it, I wouldn’t have asked.” His voice had dropped in pitch. Low. Dangerous, even. “Tell me.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. The words were right there, but they felt heavy on her tongue. Her romantic history was not a tale of triumph. No one other than Opalina and Lilibeth knew. She wasn’t even sure she knew how to say it aloud.

But Ark was still waiting. Patient. Unmoving.

She let out a breath. “I was . . . in a relationship with a witch named Idifeus Zakey. We were together for three years, and it ended last year. I thought—” She paused. “I thought we were building something permanent. I thought we wanted the same things.”

She gave a breathy laugh, cheeks hot. “He came from a good witch family—impressive lineage. But he never once introduced me to anyone.”

When Ark kept quiet, she continued, the memory sharpening her voice. “For his father’s fiftieth birthday, his family planned a party. He was so excited—he talked about the party for weeks. I was so sure it was to be my official introduction. Opalina and I worked for a month on a beautiful gown. When I showed him, proud and hopeful, he just looked at me with this faint, pitying smile and said, ‘Why would you go to all that trouble? The event is only for family.’” She glanced up at Ark, the old wound laid bare. “That was the moment I understood. He’d already decided I never had a chance. What he said next just put a fine point on it.”

A pause. Then Ark’s voice, low and measured: “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘There’s only one thing an Untethered witch is good for—and it’s not anything lasting.’”