Page 27 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

Imogen huffed. “Of course she is. Now you’re just avoiding the question.”

Cassia shot Ark a look over the rim of her cup, torn between amusement and embarrassment. Ark, for his part, only gave her a small smile.

Devlin leaned forward, still watching Ark closely. “But you do know, don’t you?”

Ark lifted a brow. “Know what?”

“If you hurt her, we’ll make you regret it.”

Cassia flashed the boy a warning look. “Devlin, there’s absolutely no need to be rude.”

Ark, however, didn’t seem offended. If anything, his expression shifted, suffused with a warmth she hadn’t seen before, as if Devlin’s protectiveness had unlocked a door she didn’t know existed.

He told her, “Devlin is not being rude. I would expect nothing less. That’s what a close-knit family does: protect each other.”

Devlin held his gaze a moment longer, measuring the weight of his words. Then, with a slow, decisive nod, he sat back and resumed his tea.

Across the table, Cassia finally allowed herself to exhale.

So, that’s how it is, then.

Ark had just passed Starlight’s most important test.

7

ARK

The cakes were beautifully made, soft and sweet, but they carried no magic. Mrs. Thimble and Matilde were excellent cooks—their years of feeding a houseful of children were evident in every carefully prepared confection, but skill and enchantment were two completely different things.

Still, as Ark glanced around the table, he appreciated the warmth of the scene. The children—chattering between bites, dunking teacakes into their cups with sticky fingers—had an easy, unguarded joy about them. It was a simple pleasure, one that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with care, routine, and the certainty of being fed at the same table every day.

Cassia had been surprised when he agreed to stay, but the cakes hadn’t been the sole reason. It was the house’s magic—that unseen force bracing against him at the threshold upon arrival, preventing him from entering. It hadn’t been hostile, but it had been undeniable. It only relented when Cassia verbally invited him inside.

Even now, something in the house lingered around him, a presence he felt pressing at the edges of his senses. It didn’t strike or lashed out, at least not yet, but it resisted him nonetheless.

He didn’t think it was the familiar, ancient pulse of Land Magic, nor the lingering residue of Memory Magic. This was something else, something that felt deliberately planted, not a natural phenomenon.

And so, he had stayed, if only to see if any of the children were affected.

He let his gaze drift across the table, quietly cataloguing what he saw. They were healthy, their faces flushed with warmth. Their eyes were bright, their laughter unhindered. Whatever lived here, it hadn’t touched them.

Which meant the presence—the resistance, the unseen force—was only against him.

Soon, teatime was over, and Cassia sent the children out to the yard to play. When she began cleaning up, he picked up a few plates and stacked them neatly.

“How long have Mrs. Thimble and Matilde been part of Starlight?” he asked.

“Mrs. Thimble came before I was born. My mother was the cook here when she was young. She hired Mrs. Thimble when she married my father and moved to Little Mineola. Matilde joined us five years ago.”

“Where do they live?”

“They share the attic.”

“They’ve always been healthy?”

Cassia shot him a questioning glance. “As far as I know.”

He observed the children through the window, grins lighting up their faces as they chased each other across the yard. “And the children?”