Page 58 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

Beside him, she stirred, her posture straightening as though she’d just woken from a deep sleep. She hadn’t spoken since they left Angelene.

And he had remained still beside her, not trusting himself to speak.

Something had happened tonight. To her.

And, unexpectedly, to him.

How foolish he’d been to think it would be simple—a performance, a carefully staged evening where they played their roles and walked away unscathed, laughing at the trick they’d pulled on Angelene’s Echelon society.

But it had been far from simple.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. This society had always devoured the ones who didn’t fit neatly into its design, but watching her endure them was something else entirely. She stood in her gown like a lavender flame, daring to flicker among the Daemaric blue.

He hadn’t realized how tightly his hands had curled until after. How close he’d come to breaking the script altogether and punching every single demon who’d dared jeer at her.

And now, here she was—silent beside him, too proud to show the toll it had taken.

He stepped out first, then turned to offer his gloved hand. She hesitated for a breath before accepting it. The moment her feet touched the ground, he felt the armour slipping back into place around her. Chin lifting, shoulders squaring.

Even now, she was still performing. But, this time, for him.

The need to do something, to tear down the cool composure that cost her so much to maintain, was a physical ache. It was this frantic, helpless energy that had him reaching for her garden gate, his motion too sharp, his grip too tight⁠—

He winced, and froze.

Cassia looked up. “What happened?”

Ark flexed his fingers. Throbbing pain answered him. Damn it. He must have broken his blisters.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “A minor scrape.”

Cassia didn’t move for a beat. Then, she said, “You’re coming inside. Let me see it properly.”

She didn’t wait for his agreement before she walked down the garden path and unlocked the door to her home. Ark followed her, stepping inside—and was immediately met by a warmth that wasn’t just from the hearth.

Cassia’s home felt like it had been stitched together from sunlight, tea leaves, and everything soft. Golden lamplight pooled across wooden floors, honey-gold and welcoming. Shelves lined the walls, filled not only with books but with tiny curios: colourful dried flowers beneath glass, woven charms, bits of polished stone resting in delicate bowls. The furniture didn’t match, but it harmonized. A tufted armchair in pale green faced a low, wide sofa draped in a knit throw, and on the windowsill, potted herbs leaned toward the glass as if eavesdropping on the world.

By his standard, it was cluttered, yet it was . . . enchanting. And more than that—it was lived in. Honest. A place made not to impress, but simply to be.

She led him to the living room and ordered him, “Sit.”

Then she went to the kitchen and filled a kettle to boil. He was about to sit when a pulse of energy brushed against his senses—subtle, unmistakable. The fine hairs at the back of his neck rose.

He turned just in time to see a sleek black cat slip into the room. It moved without a sound, coat gleaming like ink. But it was the eyes that made Ark stop—yellow, unblinking. After a few more seconds, Ark knew he was being examined.

The cat padded toward him, tail curling in slow arcs. Gracefully, it leapt onto the arm of the chair where he sat. They stared at each other, closer than he preferred. The creature leaned in, narrowing those yellow eyes like it was trying to decide who, precisely, he was.

And Ark had the absurd urge to recoil.

Then, with a soft chuff, the cat leapt off and strolled toward the hearth. It circled once, twice, then dropped onto a pillow with a regal flop, as if it had personally decided Ark was beneath further interest.

Ark stared at it, stunned into stillness. He was a demon of the Echelon rank, with power most could only dream of. He’d faced Council inquisitors, corrupted homes, and at least one relic that had tried to eat his spine before he subdued and sealed it inside Aegis & Ash’s vault.

Yet, a house cat had made him . . . afraid?

This, he decided, was not something he could ignore, not without further investigation.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” he called toward the kitchen.