Page 156 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

“Wait, wait.” The agent raised his hand. “Maybe we can discuss the price and start a bidding war.” He looked at Delphyne expectantly. “How much are you willing to pay?”

The Daemaris’s brow furrowed—slow, severe, thunderous. She said nothing at first, but the room answered for her. The air turned sharp—cold as steel drawn from a sheath. The light dimmed at the edges. Cassia’s nape prickled with warning. Her breath hitched. Even Anuck stirred in her arms, fur lifting along his spine, though he didn’t move.

Then Delphyne spoke. “You want to buy this house?”

She took a step forward. The couple recoiled, but she went on, calm and cold, “Let me tell you what you’re really purchasing.” She paused, letting her gaze drift across the room. “Decades of Memory Magic, woven into every surface by the people who lived here. All of it—still here. Still humming.”

Her eyes flicked toward the wife’s trembling hands, still clutching a floral wallpaper sample. “And you want to gut it. Tear it out. Scrub away every trace of the lives that made this place what it is. What’s the point of buying a house with a soul if you’re just going to destroy it?”

She turned to face the agent. “You will remove this house from the listings. Today.”

A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. He stammered, “I—Madam, I’d need the owner’s permission, and⁠—”

“You have it,” Delphyne said coolly, nodding at Cassia. “Miss Aura was under duress when she decided to list her home. Consider this a revocation of her consent.”

The wife set the wallpaper sample down on the counter without a word. Her husband took her arm. They rushed out, the front door clicking shut behind them. The agent lingered a moment longer, mouth working around protests that never quite formed, before following.

Cassia stared at the closed door, then whirled on Delphyne. “You’ve chased away my buyers!”

Delphyne simply breathed in the air of the house, unhurried, as if Cassia hadn’t spoken at all. Then she turned. “You’re welcome.”

Cassia’s jaw dropped. The audacity of this woman. But before she could yell, Delphyne continued, her voice pointed, “Your parents left a blessing in these walls. How can you face their memory if you’re so quick to trade it away?”

Something snapped behind Cassia’s ribs.

“Quick?” Her voice came out raw, scraped. “You think I came to this decision lightly? This house is suffused with my mother’s magic! It’s one of the few places in the world where I can still feel her presence, and my father too. I was born here. I have memories here.”

Her feet wouldn’t stay still. She paced, arms tight around Anuck, the words tumbling faster than she could shape them.

“You stand on a mountain of generational power and lecture me on principle. My mother’s legacy isn’t protected by bloodline and political influence. It’s protected by me. And I am failing.”

She turned back, eyes burning. “The Starlight children are her legacy too. She gave her life for them as surely as she did for me. If selling this house is the only way to save the other, then that is the choice I will make.”

Her lungs ached, but the fury had nowhere left to go. It guttered and died, leaving her hollowed out.

And then—no. No, no, no—the tears came.

She felt the first one slip down her cheek and wanted to claw it back. Wanted to shove it back into her eyes where it belonged, where she belonged, composed and capable and not falling apart in front of a demon who probably hadn’t cried in decades, if ever. But another followed. Then another. A steady, humiliating stream she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she pressed her jaw shut.

Nothing made her feel more ridiculous than this. Crying in front of this immovable royalty. Letting her see the cracks. Letting her see how weak Cassia really was.

“I wanted to show the children,” she croaked. “I wanted them to see that even someone like me—an Untethered—could still protect the things she loved. Could still matter. Could still fight.” She pressed Anuck to her chest. “I wanted them to know I’m not helpless. That they aren’t helpless.”

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders drooping. “But I am, aren’t I? Scrambling. Losing. Burning everything I love just to keep the fire going for one more day.”

Delphyne watched her, a long, measuring silence stretching between them. “You would burn your inheritance to keep the children,” she said. “A noble act. Or a desperate one.”

Cassia’s throat tightened. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “they’re one and the same.”

Delphyne reached out, and Cassia flinched before she could stop herself. But the hand didn’t strike. It simply brushed her tear-damp cheek. The gesture was small, but it cracked her chest open. No one had touched her like that in five years. It was the kind of motion she’d seen a hundred mothers make, often from behind the counter at the bakery. A caress offered between sips of tea and wiping jam from a child’s chin.

Simple. Intimate. Ordinary.

But for Cassia, it felt like lightning striking a hollow tree.

“You are not wrong,” Delphyne murmured. “I misspoke. I didn’t understand the depth of the choice you were making. To willingly surrender a shrine to save a flock . . . that is not weakness. It is a terrifying strength.” She withdrew her hand and inclined her head. “I apologize.”

Cassia’s breath caught. Her eyes widened.