Page 147 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

A faint, phosphorescent glow bloomed just beneath the water’s surface, ethereal and blue. It grew stronger, rippling in the wake of the receding tide. Lilibeth’s hand flew to her mouth. Opalina stood frozen, eyes wide. Cassia ran barefoot into the waves, heedless of the cold brine seeping into her skirts, her coat. Salt stung her lips and water splashed high against her thighs.

She bent, hands plunging beneath the surface, and cupped the algae in her palms. It shimmered, soft and iridescent, like holding a star.

Her tears spilled freely now, mixing with seawater.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

It was still hours before dawn when their car rolled into Angelene. The streets near Eldryn Gardens were teeming with Yulefrost festival-goers. The air was thick with spiced wine and stewed fruit, laughter echoing off cobblestones. Music spilled from tavern doors, mingling with the off-key singing of crowds weaving through the streets.

Cassia watched it pass, a knot of dread tightening beneath her ribs. The elixir—still warm—sat in her lap. She held it as though any sudden move might shatter what was inside.

“Where should we go?” Opalina asked from behind the wheel. “Do we take it straight to Arkenoth?”

His name was a knife. Even now, the bond tugged at her—subtle pulses against the mark at her neck. He’d reached for her throughout the day, small wordless nudges that made her breath catch. It had taken every ounce of will not to answer. Not yet. Not when the ritual and this elixir mattered more.

“I’ll call Rhodes,” she murmured, already reaching for the card Rhodes had given her.

The phone barely rang twice before he picked up.

“Miss Aura,” he said, voice deep as always.

“I’m sorry to trouble you this late, but I have medicine for the Daemar. Can you⁠—”

“Meet me at Marvale General,” he interrupted. “Emergency wing.”

Cassia went still. Marvale—the name tightened her chest. She still remembered those halls: the fluorescent light, the linoleum, the smell of antiseptic clinging to her clothes for days after her father died there. Her mother had refused to go back, choosing instead a small hospice in Little Mineola, surrounded by friends.

Her grip tightened around the elixir.

“I’ll be there,” she said.

When she reached the hospital, the doors hissed open, and a wall of fluorescent light met her like a slap. Cassia hesitated a beat before stepping inside, boots clicking against spotless linoleum. The air smelled of antiseptic and wilted visitation flowers. She hated it. The walls were too white—grief scrubbed down to its bones.

She kept walking.

Rhodes was already waiting, shirt collar unbuttoned, a shadow of beard dusting his jaw. His eyes found hers immediately, flicking to the bundle in her arms.

“Is that it?”

She nodded. “Quickly, while it’s still warm. It won’t stay potent past dawn.”

Caius followed—clean-shaven, composed, but his eyes betrayed him. “The surgeons are preparing,” he said. “It won’t be long now.”

He stepped forward, cupped her hand, and eased the vessel from her fingers.

“No matter what,” he murmured, “thank you. Ark will know you did your best.”

His name cut through her. She pressed her lips together. “How is he? Ark. Is he alright?”

Rhodes exchanged a glance with Caius. “He’s inside. Hasn’t left the room since they brought his father in.”

She closed her eyes. Somewhere beyond those doors, Ark was waiting. Hurting. Afraid. And she couldn’t be there to hold his hand, or stand beside him and pretend everything would be alright.

“Just . . . make sure his father drinks it,” she whispered.

Caius nodded and disappeared down the hall. Cassia stood in the corridor, watching, her heart urging her to follow.

Behind her, Rhodes spoke, his voice deep and quiet, like he’d been holding the words back all night. “He’s in love with you, you know.”