Chapter 9
ARK
At some point, even a demon of his calibre must concede that he’d walked into this situation entirely unprepared.
It wasn’t a battlefield or an ambush, but it was a test—and he had the distinct impression he was being weighed on a scale he didn’t fully understand.
The three elderly humans had first come to make introductions, then somehow arranged themselves around the table, and now appeared to be staying for a pleasant chat.
But they were, in fact, settling in for a siege.
He recognized the tactic. What he hadn’t expected was the motive. They weren’t here to gain favours or gather gossip. They weren’t testing him for their own benefit. They were here to protect Cassia, to ensure he wasn’t a threat to her.
It was . . . new. He was accustomed to being approached for what he could offer—his name, his resources, his influence. People wanted things from him; they always had. But these three wanted nothing for themselves. They simply wanted her safe.
He wasn’t sure what to do with that.
But he respected them for it.
Across the table, Rhodes and Caius chattered like they’d entertained three human grandparents every Thursday for years—discussing Yulefrost festivities, winter weather, and the rising price of fresh citrus.
Rhodes lounged comfortably despite his too-small chair, nodding sagely as Mrs. Potts lamented the cost of good blood oranges.
Caius, ever poised, agreed that nothing compared to a proper mulled wine made with the right zest and spice.
Cassia, of course, hadn’t come out from the storage room to save them.
The small talk didn’t last long before Mrs. Tilly—a small but spry human woman with pure silver hair—decided to cut through to the heart of the matter.
“So, Arkenoth, how long have you been courting our Cassia?”
Not just Cassia, but our Cassia.
Mr. Potts narrowed his eyes. “It can’t be that long. Cassia never mentioned a word about a suitor.”
“Not long at all,” Ark admitted. “We only just met four days ago.”
Mrs. Tilly let out a thoughtful hum. “Ah. Love at first sight, then?”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
Rhodes, who should’ve had the good sense to keep his mouth shut, didn’t. “Caius and I haven’t even heard the tale of their meeting. We’re like brothers to him, and he didn’t tell us. Can you believe that?”
Caius, serenely, added, “It must’ve been a magnificent encounter for him to propose on the spot.”
The storage room door creaked open. Cassia stepped into view, her friends trailing behind her. All three paused at the threshold as if sensing the shift in the air.
Ark turned toward her, and their eyes met. Flour-dusted fingerprints smudged the sleeves of her cardigan, as if she’d been gripping them too tightly moments before.
He thought of The Ivory Club. That night. The moment that had changed everything.
Without taking his eyes off her, he said, “The first time I saw her, she was standing in The Ivory Club’s lobby, chin high, eyes burning, daring Agmon Alderrath to deny her petition. She was alone, outnumbered, armed with nothing but sheer conviction.”
He let the words settle, drawing a slow breath.
“And I knew,” he continued, his voice quieter now, “that if I was ever going to fall, it would be for her.”
The air in the bakery held still. The silence stretched, thick and golden.
Cassia’s fingers curled against the fabric of her apron, a sharp inhale catching just at the edge of her breath.
He caught the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed, the flicker of uncertainty in her gaze—the way her mind scrambled for something to say.
Mr. and Mrs. Potts exchanged a glance. Mrs. Tilly was grinning—actually grinning—as if he’d just passed the test.
Caius and Rhodes, for once, had gone still. No smirks. No dry remarks. They were both staring at him, eyebrows arched. His friends knew him best. They’d seen him lie, scheme, charm, deflect.
But this . . . this was none of those things. And they could see it.
Ark exhaled slowly, pursed his lips. He had only spoken the truth. That night outside The Ivory Club, he had been struck by her. By her audacity, her fire.
And now, he had only done what they’d agreed upon—spun the illusion so close to the truth that it couldn’t be unraveled. Yet, as Cassia stood there staring, his insides trembled.
What had he just done?
Cassia cleared her throat, and the room’s attention shifted away from him—a small mercy. His lungs found air again.
“That’s a great story,” she said, her eyebrows arched. Her voice was light—too light, as if she was baiting him. “But sweetheart, you’ve forgotten the best part.”
“Have I?” Ark smiled, playing along, though the word ‘sweetheart’ coiled around his spine in a way he wasn’t expecting. “For me, that is the best part—” After a beat, he added, “Starling.”
She inched closer. Slow, deliberate, like a dancer who knew precisely how to command the room without even trying.
His gaze tracked the subtle sway of her hips, the measured grace in each step.
He didn’t often find himself wondering about things like loose curls and unbound hair, but now—gods help him—he did.
He thought about the way her fiery waves might look if freed from that haphazard knot, falling over her shoulders, catching the light in wild, untamed ribbons.
By the time she reached the edge of the table, leaning close, the warmth of her presence wrapped around him like a spell. Butter. Sugar. Cinnamon. It wasn’t just a scent—it was a memory, an emotion.
A home, he realized.
She smelled like a happy home.
His hands curled into loose fists beneath the table.
“You forgot to tell them what happened after,” she murmured, her voice dipping just low enough to send a slow shiver down his spine. “When you followed me from The Ivory Club and watched me march halfway across the district, fuming, before you finally worked up the nerve to speak to me.”
A soft gasp of delight came from Mrs. Tilly.
Ark tilted his head to look up at her, his own lips curling now. “Worked up the nerve, did I?”
She hummed, as if in deep consideration. “It did take you quite a while, didn’t it? Lurking in the shadows like a brooding spectre.”
Rhodes choked on a laugh. Caius, too refined to outright snort, simply lifted his teacup to his lips, looking like he was enjoying much more than his tea.
Ark leaned back, watching her with open indulgence. “I was giving you space.”
Her voice dipped even lower, almost absent of playfulness. “You certainly weren’t giving me space when those young, drunken demons decided to get bold.”
A ripple of something darker, sharper, passed through him. His fingers curled tighter against his knee, the memory crisp, immediate: Cassia, her spine straight, her magic crackling at her fingertips, ready to strike before he’d caught her wrist.
Cassia, standing alone, unshaken as the drunken demons circled like carrion birds, underestimating her, not realizing they were playing with something they couldn’t hope to handle.
Cassia, who had not needed saving—but whom he had stepped in for anyway.
And Cassia, watching now, studying him as if she could still feel the moment he’d closed his fingers around her wrist and spoken those words.
‘Allow me.’
For once, she didn’t fill the silence with another teasing quip. For once, she let the moment breathe.
Ark held her gaze, unblinking. “You were about to turn them into a very unfortunate cautionary tale.”
Her lips quirked. “I still think they deserved it.”
Dry laughter escaped him. “I don’t disagree.”
She inched closer, her voice a murmur meant for only him. “Then why did you stop me?”
Ark froze. Why? He could give her a dozen answers.
Because the whole of Angelene would turn against an Untethered half-witch in a heartbeat.
Because even before he really knew her, he knew she had stood alone too often.
Because—
“I wanted the pleasure for myself,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched. For a moment, neither moved. Then, she tilted her head, and a slow smile slipped into place. “How gallant of you.”
The bakery exhaled, conversation resuming around them, but as his eyes held hers, the tension between them remained suspended, unbroken.
Her hand rested on the table between them, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
His fingers twitched against his knee—a small, involuntary betrayal.
It would take nothing. A shift. A brush.
A moment of contact he had no right to take.
Her voice, clear as a bell across a teahouse table, echoed in his mind: ‘You don’t touch me without my permission.’
Ark kept his hands where they were.
Mrs. Potts sighed wistfully. “A man drawn to a woman with a spine. I knew it.”
Mrs. Tilly nodded sagely. “A love that begins with defiance? This must be fate.”
Cassia straightened, pulling away, and he missed her warmth immediately. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to keep it close.
Her smile was serene when she looked at him, hands on her hips. “I’ll get your orders started.”
Then, turning to her friends, she gestured lightly between them. “You’ve met my protective customers. Now it’s time for you to meet the rest of my family: Aruna Lilibeth and Wren Opalina.”
She patted both women’s shoulders in a casual, affectionate gesture. “Take care of them, will you? And remember—they’re still paying customers.” She lowered her voice into a hush, just loud enough for Ark to hear. “So, go easy on them, please.”
With that, Cassia disappeared into the kitchen.
Silence settled between them—thick, expectant.
Ark watched the one named Lilibeth shift, watched her manicured fingers twist the lace at her sleeve.
Her gaze flicked between him and his companions before landing on the table, as if she hoped it might swallow her whole.