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Cassian took his solicitor’s calls on videocall, with the audio on speaker, which Ruari had learned to stop questioning.

“She’s not so scary if I can see her, and if she’s not speaking through my headphones,” Cassian had explained the first time, jabbing the speaker icon and propping the mobile up on a box of Cadbury Fingers on Ruari’s kitchen counter.

Today the mobile was balanced on Ruari’s chest, because Cassian was curled up on the sofa with his knees drawn up and his bare feet tucked under Ruari’s thigh. The solicitor’s voice came out tinny, and Cassian listened with his chin resting on Ruari’s shoulder, his fingers picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

The solicitor was walking Cassian through the nullity petition. From listening in, Ruari had come to understand that nullity established that the marriage to Charles Townsend had never been valid, and that to have it declared so, she needed to determine Cassian’s capacity to consent at the time of the ceremony, whether he’d understood what he was agreeing to, and whether the agreement had been freely given.

“When the Lumineer informed you that Charles Townsend was your Evermate,” the solicitor said, “did you understand that you had the option to refuse?”

“No,” Cassian said, into Ruari’s collarbone. “The Lumineer spoke for the Light. You don’t refuse the Light. Living in darkness is a terror beyond our human comprehension.”

Ruari’s hand stroked Cassian’s hip soothingly.

“And at the time of the ceremony, had you met Charles Townsend before?”

“I’d seen him a handful of times, but never spoken to him. He had meals at the compound sometimes. The senior women put extra food out on the days he visited.” Cassian’s picking at the cushion thread intensified. “I thought he was someone’s uncle.”

The solicitor’s typing was audible over the speaker. “Were you given legal counsel before the ceremony? Did anyone explain the nature of a marriage contract to you?”

“I didn’t know what a marriage contract was. I’d never heard those words together before. The Lumineer called it a sacred union. I knew what those words meant, and then I signed my name on the papers where they told me to.”

The solicitor moved on to the question of independent legal advice, then to whether Cassian had been provided with documentation of any kind before the ceremony. He hadn’t. She asked about witnesses. There had been witnesses, by way of the entire compound.

Cassian recited all of this, curling up small next to Ruari, who wanted to stuff him with enough sugar to make his teeth ache. Chelsea buns. Tangfastics. The passionfruit tarts he’d set aside from this morning’s bake.

He wanted to fill Cassian’s mouth with sweetness until there was no room left for any of this, and the solicitor’s careful questions and Cassian’s stumbling answers were buried under buttercream and caramelised sugar.

The call ended with the solicitor confirming that she’d send a summary of today’s points for Cassian’s review, and Cassian tapped the red button. Then his hand returned to the spot where it had been, over Ruari’s heart.

Ruari pulled him in tighter. He kissed the top of Cassian’s head, breathing him in, that green sweetness that sat underneath everything else, sharper now.

“Want to eat?”

Cassian shook his head. Then he went flat, collapsing all at once until he was lying across Ruari’s lap with his face pressed into the sofa cushion and his arms folded over his head.

Ruari lifted Cassian off the sofa. The omega wrapped his legs around Ruari’s waist out of habit, arms looping around Ruari’s neck while he carried him down the stairs.

The café was completely full. Raf was running the counter solo because Ruari had taken his break upstairs in his flat. Heads turned when he entered with Cassian wrapped around him.

Ruari crossed the middle of the shop, passing Mrs White from the dry cleaner’s and the Notting Hill mums with their oat-milk lattes, whose eyebrows rose in synchrony.

The door hit the wall on his way out. Portobello Road was bright with afternoon foot traffic, and Ruari crossed to where his car was parked three doors down without breaking stride. He wrestled the passenger door open one-handed, which took some doing, since Cassian had no intention of being put down, and his grip on Ruari’s neck hurt.

He lowered Cassian into the seat and reached over to buckle him in.

“Where are we going?” Cassian asked.

“Wherever you like,” Ruari said. “And we’re doing whatever you want to do.”

Cassian looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Cassian’s gaze dropped to the steering wheel. His hand twitched on the seatbelt strap. “I want to learn how to drive. Diwa was meant to teach me,” Cassian said. “He said he’d sort my provisional licence and take me to a car park, but then he got busy with the computer again. He talks to it, Ruari, and it talks back, and sometimes I walk into his office and they’re having a full conversation and I don’t know who’s winning. I’ve been waiting three weeks for him.”

“Brilliant idea,” Ruari said. If Cassian had asked him to drive to Aberdeen and back he’d have already been indicating. “Really. We’ll sort the provisional later. But right now…” He turned the key in the ignition and the Range Rover’s engine rolled over with a low rumble. “Right now, I know a place.”

He pulled out of the space and swung the car south towards the river, cutting through the back streets. Cassian had his feet up on the dashboard within thirty seconds.