Chapter 75 Savor the Calm
(Because Storms Are Definitely Coming)
Arabella
The sheets still smelled like sex and battlefield grime when I slipped out of bed, leaving Kazimir sprawled across the mattress.
His hair stuck up at odd angles, and a line of drool connected his mouth to the pillow. The most feared villain in the realm, reduced to this. I bit back a laugh and grabbed one of his shirts from the floor, pulling it over my head. It fell to mid-thigh and smelled like smoke and shadow magic.
My stomach growled, reminding me that we’d skipped the “food” part of our post-battle plans in favor of more pressing activities. Three times, to be exact. My thighs still trembled slightly as I padded toward the door.
The Inner Sanctum’s small kitchen was tucked away inside the main fortress, a private space reserved for family. The fact that I thought of it that way—family—should have been more jarring. Instead, it felt right. Natural. Like everything else about this insane life I’d chosen.
The smell hit me before I rounded the corner. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Fresh bread. And underneath it all, the green, earthy scent of Sebastian’s magic.
I found him at the wooden table, surrounded by what looked like a bakery’s worth of goods. Tarts lined up in perfect rows. Loaves of bread still steaming. Cookies stacked in precarious towers. His hands moved mechanically, kneading dough that probably didn’t need any more attention.
“Still stress-baking?” I asked from the doorway.
He didn’t startle. Just kept working the dough. “Couldn’t sleep.”
The kitchen was warm, almost stifling with the ovens running. I counted at least six different types of pastries cooling on the counters. How long had he been at this?
“Sebastian—”
“There’s fresh coffee.” He nodded toward a pot on the stove, still not meeting my eyes. “And those almond croissants you like. Third tray from the left.”
I wanted to push, to ask about the ritual, about his sacrifice, about what Kazimir had said. But Sebastian’s shoulders were rigid with tension, his movements too controlled. He wasn’t ready.
Instead, I poured myself coffee and selected a croissant, biting into it with probably indecent enthusiasm. “Oh, fuck. This is incredible.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Try the lemon tarts. I think I finally got the curd ratio right.”
I obliged, sampling my way through his stress-fueled production. Each bite was perfection, but I could taste the anxiety baked into every layer. Sebastian’s emotions were completely scrambled.
“You know,” I said carefully, licking custard from my thumb, “we probably have enough food here to feed half the fortress.”
“Good thing we have half the kingdom’s nobility as houseguests, then.” His voice was too light.
I set down the tart. “Sebastian—”
“How is he?” The question came out rushed. “Lord Blackrose. After everything.”
“He’s fine. Sleeping.” I studied Sebastian’s profile, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands. “How are you?”
“Spectacular. Never better. Did you try the chocolate soufflé? I’m particularly proud of—”
“You gave your blood to free an ancient evil.” The warmth of the kitchen seemed to absorb those words and throw them back at me. “That’s not nothing.”
His hands stilled on the dough. For a moment, I thought he might actually talk to me. Then he resumed kneading with renewed vigor. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re free. The Shadow King is… wherever he is. Mission accomplished.”
My truth-sense didn’t ping exactly, but it rippled with the weight of things unsaid. Sebastian was very carefully not lying while also not telling the truth.
“Kaz said—” I stopped myself. Did I really want to open this door?
“Said what?” Now he did look at me, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes made my chest tight.
“Nothing. Just… thank you, Sebastian. For what you did. For being willing to—”
“Don’t.” The word came out sharper than I’d ever heard from him. He took a breath, visibly pulling himself together. “I mean, you’re welcome. But let’s not make it into something more than it was. A necessary sacrifice to save a lady. Very heroic. I’ll probably get a ballad out of it.”
The kitchen door burst open before I could respond, saving us both from a conversation neither of us was ready for.
“Can’t sleep,” Vex announced, shuffling in wearing black silk pajamas. “Too much adrenaline. Too many feelings. Need sugar.”
She stopped short at the sight of Sebastian’s bakery explosion. “Holy shit. Did you rob a pastry shop?”
“Help yourself,” Sebastian said, already pulling another ball of dough from somewhere. Where was he even getting all these ingredients?
Griffin appeared next, his hair sticking up in twelve different directions and his striped nightshirt inside out.
It only fell to just above his knobby knees.
“I smelled cinnamon rolls. Please tell me there are cinnamon rolls. I’ve been up all night trying to figure out how to track magical signatures through dimensional barriers and my brain needs sugar. ”
“Second shelf, left side,” Sebastian directed without looking up.
Thorne was the last to arrive, somehow looking perfectly put together despite wearing simple sleep clothes. He surveyed the scene with his usual calm assessment.
He stared at Sebastian with a question on his scarred face.
“Productive insomnia,” Sebastian offered in answer.
Thorne selected a simple butter cookie and rumbled something about “pretty lords and their quirks.”
We fell into easy companionship, the five of us scattered around the kitchen like this was normal. Like we hadn’t just survived a battle, freed an ancient evil, and fundamentally altered the balance of power in the realm.
Vex was in the middle of an elaborate story about a merchant who’d already tried to sell her “genuine Shadow King artifacts” when footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Kazimir appeared in the doorway, and my brain short-circuited.
He’d shaved. And cut his hair. The wild mane I’d gripped during our earlier activities was now cropped short, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. The beard I’d felt between my thighs was gone, revealing the strong line of his jaw.
He looked every inch the man I’d first met—sharp, dangerous. Absolutely edible.
“You cut your hair,” I said stupidly.
“Magic,” he said, running a hand through the short strands. “Figured I should look presentable for claiming Solandris tomorrow. Can’t have the artists drawing me for the history books looking like a wild hermit.”
“I liked the hermit look,” Vex said, then made a face. “Actually, no. This is better. Less ‘crazy goblin living in a cave’ and more ‘ruthlessly efficient conqueror.’ ”
Kazimir moved to the wine cabinet, pulling out bottles. “Since we’re all awake and Sebastian has apparently opened a bakery in our kitchen, we might as well celebrate properly.”
“Celebrate what?” Griffin asked through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.
“My wife is alive and unpossessed. We conquered Solandris. The world hasn’t ended yet.” He uncorked a bottle. “Pick one.”
Soon we all had drinks—wine for most of us, though Griffin had found some kind of fluorescent blue liqueur that I didn’t know the origin of. Kazimir raised his glass.
“To survival,” he said simply.
“To family,” Vex added.
Warmth bloomed in my chest.
We drank, and the alcohol mixed pleasantly with the sugar from Sebastian’s stress-baking. Conversation flowed easier now, jumping from topic to topic with the loose association of the slightly drunk and very exhausted.
I found myself next to Vex as the others debated whether Griffin’s blue liqueur was actually safe for human consumption.
“Can I ask you something?” I kept my voice low.
She tilted her head, reading something in my expression. “About Lord Blackrose?”
“You suspected what he was.”
Vex was quiet for a long moment, swirling wine in her glass. “I did. When he started struggling with those episodes, when his control began slipping. I’d seen enough of his past to recognize the signs of something trying to claw its way out.”
“But you stayed.”
“Of course I did.” She looked at me like I was insane for suggesting otherwise. “He gave me purpose. Became my family when I had nothing. A little thing like being possessed by an ancient evil wasn’t going to change that.”
I thought about what the Shadow King had said to her, the taunts about her past, the wounds he’d so casually reopened. “In the tower, when the Shadow King was speaking through me… what he said to you.”
Vex went very still.
“I heard it,” I said quietly. “If you ever want to talk—”
“I don’t.” The words were sharp, final. Then, softer: “But thank you. For offering.”
We stood in comfortable silence, watching our strange little family.
Griffin was now trying to convince Sebastian to bake something with his questionable liqueur.
Thorne was methodically sorting the baked goods into storage containers.
Kazimir leaned against the counter, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him in weeks.
“You haven’t tried the scones,” Vex observed, her sharp eyes tracking Kazimir’s careful avoidance of a particular tray.
“I’ve had scones before,” he said dismissively.
“Not Sebastian’s scones.” Griffin had unwound a second cinnamon roll and was whirling it around. “They’re legendary. Sebastian, didn’t you tell me about an incident where a minor lord challenged someone to a duel over the last scone at a banquet?”
Sebastian looked up from his dough, alarmed. “That’s not—I mean, they’re just scones.”
“Just scones,” Vex repeated flatly. “My lady, tell your husband he’s being ridiculous.”
I watched Kazimir’s jaw tighten, recognizing the stubborn set of his shoulders. He was avoiding them on principle. Because Sebastian made them. Because they were probably annoyingly perfect.
“They are really good,” I offered, taking another bite of my croissant to hide my smile.
Kazimir’s eyes narrowed at me. Traitor, that look said.
“The Dark Lord of Skyspire,” Thorne rumbled from his position by the storage containers, “afraid of baked goods.”
That did it. Kazimir’s pride wouldn’t allow that particular jab to stand. He stalked to the tray, selected a scone with all the gravity of choosing a weapon, and bit into it.
His expression went carefully, dangerously blank.
We all watched in silence as he chewed. Swallowed. Stared at the remaining scone in his hand like it had personally betrayed him.
“Well?” Vex prompted.
“It’s adequate,” Kazimir said, his voice tight.
Sebastian beamed. “Oh, thank you! I wasn’t sure about the butter ratio this time—”
My truth-sense practically vibrated. “That’s the biggest lie you’ve told all week.”
Kazimir shot me a look that promised retribution later. Then, with visible reluctance, he took another bite. And another. The scone disappeared in record time.
I heard him mutter something under his breath as he reached for a second one, trying to make it look casual.
“What was that?” I asked sweetly.
“Nothing.”
But I’d heard it. Caught the words even as he’d tried to swallow them along with his wounded pride.
Fucking heroes.
He took an aggressive bite of the second scone, his expression suggesting he was imagining it was something far less delicious and far more deserving of his teeth. Like maybe a political enemy.
Sebastian, oblivious to—or perhaps because of—the internal crisis he’d caused, simply smiled and went back to his dough.
“What’s the plan for hunting him down?” Vex asked quietly. “The Shadow King.”
“We don’t have one yet.” I took another sip of wine.
I caught Kazimir’s eye, and he smiled—a real smile, not his usual smirk or villainous grin. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness despite just being forced to eat the best scone in his life.
Then Griffin accidentally set his sleeve on fire with whatever was in that blue liqueur, and the moment dissolved into chaos and laughter and Sebastian’s exasperated attempts to extinguish flaming clothing.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But tonight, we were just a family, slightly singed and covered in flour, celebrating the simple fact that we were all still alive.
It was enough. More than enough.
It was everything.