29. Arthur
ARTHUR
I woke before Artemis, but I didn’t move.
Artemis slept on her side, curled toward me.
One arm was tucked between us, her hand resting on my chest. Her hair had fallen loose during the night and spread across the pillow.
It did something dangerous to my composure.
I wanted her to stay here, right here next to me, in my bed.
Everything in me screamed that she belonged by my side.
We had slept for twelve straight hours. I couldn’t remember the last time I had allowed myself that kind of rest.
I watched her instead of rising.
She was magnificent. I loved watching how her brow smoothed when she slept or how her mouth softened when she exhaled. Her very presence made the room feel settled.
Mine.
That thought landed quietly and stayed.
I eased myself out of bed without waking her, then tucked the blankets more securely around her. She made a small sound but did not wake. Good. She needed the rest.
I dressed and made my way through the halls. The mansion felt different this morning. Lighter. Less watchful. As if it had noticed the change and approved.
The kitchen lights were already on, and Caliban was sitting at the bar.
I stopped short.
I had known Caliban my entire life. I had never seen him sit unless he was injured. He stood to pour tea. He stood to read. He stood to deliver news that could reshape the fate of our people.
He was sitting. Drinking coffee. One elbow on the counter. Shoulders slightly sloped. He looked up and froze, then he was on his feet in an instant.
“Arthur,” he said. “You are back?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He studied me like he was assessing a wound. Or a miracle. Or both.
“You look,” he said slowly, “unreasonably well.”
That was his version of shock.
“I have a lot to tell you,” I said.
His mouth twitched. “I can imagine. You look… glowy.”
I frowned. “That’s not a real descriptor.”
“It is when applied to you,” he said. “Also, you’re smiling. That is deeply suspicious.”
I hadn’t realized I was. That explained a lot.
Caliban’s gaze shifted past me, toward the corridor that led to my chambers. “Is Artemis here?”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Uninjured?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once, then pretended to inspect his coffee like that was all he had needed to know.
“What happened?” he asked.
I hesitated. “You were worried.”
He didn’t look at me. “No.”
I waited.
“Marginally,” he added.
That was Caliban admitting to fear.
I stepped closer and rested my hand on the counter. “Things are changing,” I said. “For me. For us. For the house.”
His gaze snapped back to mine. “I thought they might.”
I cleared my throat. “Hadrian tried to kill us.”
Caliban showed no other reaction but the stiffening of his shoulders.
“He wanted power,” I continued. “The old kind. The kind my family once used. For generations, our clan traded things that were never ours to trade. The lives of children. Years of health. Vitality siphoned quietly away from others so we could grow stronger.”
Caliban’s jaw tightened.
“One of my ancestors saw the cost and ended it. Refused to renew the bargain and buried centuries of history so his actions couldn’t be discovered and the cycle restarted. He thought that was enough. But the truth is, we were still bound. Connected to an ancient entity even after we walked away.”
I swallowed. “So, we were punished for it. Not with fire or war, but with erosion. Fewer children born. Shorter lives. Magic thinning year by year. We paid for rejecting the deal without ever being free of it.” I met Caliban’s eyes.
“Hadrian wanted to start it again. To accept the bargain fully this time. To take everything it offered and damn whoever stood in the way.” I shook my head.
“Artemis would not let that happen. She found another path. One that broke the connection entirely.”
I let the truth settle between us.
“We are free now. Both of us. The clan and the entity.”
Caliban exhaled slowly through his nose. “I always had a bad feeling about Hadrian.”
I believed him. Caliban didn’t say things like that lightly.
“He tracked us to Atlantis,” I said.
That got a pause.
“The real one,” I added. “What is left of it. Stairs rising out of the sea. A temple of old stone beneath the water. That’s where the ancient entity we were bound to is. It was chained, angry, and tired.”
Caliban’s hands folded together. He said nothing.
“There were trials,” I said. “Puzzles. Rooms filling with water. Choices that punished the wrong answer immediately. We nearly drowned.”
I swallowed. That part still sat heavy in my chest. It had been traumatic.
“Artemis solved most of them by seeing patterns and the meaning of them. I would not have survived without her. I’m certain of that.”
Caliban finally looked at me then. Really looked.
“She saved me,” I said. “Again and again. When the water rose. When the walls closed in. When Hadrian nearly succeeded in killing me. I was prepared to die there. She refused to allow it.”
The kitchen was very quiet now.
“We bargained for freedom,” I finished. “Freedom. For everyone. The entity accepted. The chains are gone. The siphoning is broken. Our people will recover. The entity is free.”
Caliban stood there for a long moment, processing. When he finally moved, it was with great care, like he was approaching a volatile artifact. He stepped closer and placed the back of his hand against my forehead, checking me like I had taken a serious blow to the head.
I lifted a brow. “I am well.”
“Hm,” he said. “That remains to be determined.”
He withdrew his hand and studied me in silence, eyes sharp, expression unreadable. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “I should ask Artemis to recount what happened.”
I waited.
“She seems quite bright,” he added. “And less inclined toward exaggeration.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Yes, she is.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air hummed softly around us. It was a normal morning. One that almost hadn’t existed.
“Well,” Caliban said finally, straightening his jacket. “I suppose I should put the kettle back on.”
“Yes,” I said. “And Caliban?”
“Yes, Arthur?”
“Thank you. For worrying.”
He sniffed. “Don't make a habit of surviving impossible situations. It is exhausting.”
I smiled again.
I heard her before I saw her. Soft steps in the hall. Bare feet on stone. My chest went warm in a way that had nothing to do with dragon fire. I turned toward the doorway without thinking.
She was wearing one of my shirts. It reached her knees, and the sleeves covered most of her hands. The fabric swallowed her, and it made me go very still. Seeing her like that could make me come undone.
“Hello,” she said, like she wasn’t wrecking me just by existing.
I crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into me. I kissed her once, quick and soft, more a promise than anything else. She gave me a shy, sleepy smile.
“You look like you belong here,” I said.
Caliban cleared his throat.
She glanced down at herself and flushed. “I’m sorry. I don't have any more clean clothes.”
Caliban waved a hand. “You look perfectly acceptable. Would you care for some French toast?”
Arthur blinked. “Why was I not offered French toast?”
Caliban ignored me with great dignity and handed her a mug. “Coffee.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking it with both hands.
Caliban turned his full attention on her. “Now. Tell me all about this adventure you went on with the alpha. I am currently attempting to determine which parts of Arthur’s account are plausible.”
She laughed brightly and leaned into me, fitting against my body just right.
I decided, in that moment, that whatever she said would be the truth.
I took the long way.
Canada fell away beneath my wings, all cold forests and open sky. I loved it there. The quiet. The way the land did not ask questions.
Artemis was warm against my back, hands clinching my scales, steady and trusting. Every part of me wanted to keep flying. To take her somewhere without schedules or doors or obligations. I wanted her with me. Always. The thought of not being beside her pressed sharp and physical behind my ribs.
But she had a life. A home. A job she had earned. Loving her meant honoring that, even when it hurt.
I landed in the clearing near her building and shifted. The moment my feet hit the ground, I pulled her into me. I needed to feel her against me.
“I don't want to leave you,” I said into her hair.
“I know,” she said gently. “But this isn’t goodbye.”
My body did not agree, but I nodded anyway.
We walked like that to her building and up to her floor, pressed together as if we were quietly daring the world to separate us. The city felt strange after everything we had seen. Loud, yet fragile and smaller than it used to be.
We had barely reached her door when Eloise’s door flew open.
“There you are,” Eloise announced. “I knew it.”
Artemis blinked. “What. You could sense me?”
Eloise waved a hand. “Intuition.”
Artemis tilted her head. “So, you’re a witch now?”
They embraced. I stepped back, watching them. This was her home. Her anchor. This mattered.
Eloise ushered us inside Artemis’s apartment and immediately began interrogating her. Artemis answered calmly, telling her about the travel, the research, the history. All true. All incomplete.
Eloise narrowed her eyes. “What are you not telling me?”
Artemis looked at me for permission.
I nodded, and she told her everything.
Eloise stared as the truth landed, then she collapsed onto the couch. “I need a cigarette,” she said faintly.
Artemis reached for her phone, saying she had pictures to show her and froze. “I left it. At your place.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ll have Caliban bring it.”
I had been surprised that the human technology was still working, but Artemis described her device as “durable”. I was becoming more impressed with human innovation every day.
I pressed the mark on my wrist.
Caliban appeared beside the table.
Eloise’s jaw dropped.
“Good evening,” Caliban said pleasantly, as though he hadn’t just appeared out of thin space in a Manhattan apartment.
Eloise stared at him. Then at me. Then at Artemis. Her mouth opened. Closed again.
“Artemis left her phone,” I said, because someone needed to keep things moving. “If you would retrieve it.”
“Of course,” Caliban replied without hesitation.
I hesitated, then added, “And, if it is acceptable to Artemis, I would also appreciate a change of clothes. I would like to stay tonight.”
I didn’t look away from Artemis as I said it. I didn’t want to assume.
“Please,” she murmured.
The tightness in my chest loosened at that.
Caliban turned then, finally taking in the rest of the room. His gaze landed on Eloise, and he stopped short. For just a fraction of a second, his composure slipped, like he had not expected this variable.
Then he recovered.
He straightened his jacket, smoothed it out, then stepped forward, extending his hand. “Caliban,” he said. “A pleasure.”
Eloise stared at his hand like it might explode, then she took it. “The pleasure is,” she said slowly, “entirely theoretical at the moment.”
Something unreadable passed between them. Interest, perhaps. Curiosity. Whatever it was, it lingered just long enough to be noticed.
Then Caliban vanished, the space where he had stood suddenly empty.
Silence stretched.
Eloise blinked once. Then twice. “Right,” she said finally. “I’m going to need alcohol.”
“I have some,” Artemis said quickly, already moving toward the cupboard. “No need to leave.”
Eloise nodded absently while Artemis fetched glasses and a bottle of whiskey. We sat together like this was normal, like interdimensional appearances and dragons and ancient bargains were things you could process with whiskey and good company.
A moment later, Caliban reappeared, carrying my clothes, neatly folded, and Artemis’s phone in his other hand.
He handed both over with a polite nod, then stood there, hands folded neatly in front of him. His gaze moved once around the room, assessing.
“Well,” he said at last, clearing his throat. “I should be going.”
Eloise, who had just lifted her glass, paused mid-motion. “Won’t you stay and have a drink?”
Caliban blinked. It was subtle. A fraction of a second too long. Then he inclined his head, and his otherwise perfect composure relaxed.
“I would be honored,” he said.
I looked between them, faintly amused. Artemis’s mouth twitched like she was filing this away for later.
Caliban accepted the glass Eloise handed him with careful courtesy, as though this, too, were a diplomatic exchange of some importance.
And just like that, the tension in the room faded.