Chapter 17 #3
Shelves lined the walls, crowded with books, rolled maps, and glass-fronted cabinets.
The air pressed against her skin, humming with protective magic.
Through the glass, she caught glimpses of objects sealed behind faintly shimmering wards.
A golden vial caught her eye—no larger than her thumb, etched with delicate filigree, alone on a velvet cushion.
It looked like innocent jewelry, not something dangerous enough to guard.
A long wooden table dominated the centre of the space, its surface scarred with burn marks and scratches. It looked like something they might’ve inherited from whoever occupied this building before them. Dark green velvet couches faced an unlit hearth, their cushions arranged in groups of three.
The obsidian vase on the marble credenza caught her eye again. She’d passed it on her way in, but now she stopped. She hadn’t even realized how many Flora Notes she’d sent today. It wasn’t until she stood close enough that she realized: Each one was suspended in a gentle stasis spell.
He hadn’t just kept them; he had preserved them. He hadn’t tucked them away in some drawer of forgotten things; he’d placed them on display among his other valued objects, as if her words were a treasure to be protected and studied.
She blinked against a sudden, surprising heat behind her eyes. Her throat tightened as she reached out, fingers brushing a tiger lily. A flicker of her own magic hummed back at her.
Why? Why preserve these?
They’d started as banter—something light, something pretend. Something she’d sent to get him to smile for a moment and then let wilt into nothing.
Yet here they were, fresh as the moment they’d bloomed.
Cassia exhaled, pressing her palm gently to the side of the vase. For a moment, she let herself feel that sweet, trembling ache in her chest: the knowing that despite their arrangement . . . this didn’t even feel like a performance anymore.
Footsteps prompted her to turn around. She spotted Caius emerging from the hallway.
“He’s changed and fully asleep now,” he told her.
“Thank you.”
Just then, Rhodes reappeared at the entrance, holding a small bundle of fresh herbs wrapped in twine. “Matilde sent this—lemon balm and a few other herbs she thought might help.”
Cassia accepted the bundle. “Thank you. She always knows what I need.”
Caius, meanwhile, grabbed his coat from the back of the sofa and shrugged it on. A glance at his pocket watch had him wincing. He looked up at her. “May we rely on you to watch over him, Miss Aura? There is an unfinished task Rhodes and I must attend to.”
“Of course. I’ll stay with him.”
Rhodes reached into his pocket for a card—thick and sturdy, all in matte black—and passed it to her. She looked down at the silver letters: Aegis & Ash—For Estates that Come with Baggage, and a phone number below it.
Her lips twitched. So, this was what they were. Not idle aristocrats burning through inheritance, but something that required matte-black business cards and a tagline that sounded like a joke between men who’d made an art out of cleaning up the messes no one else knew how to touch.
“If you need anything, call,” Rhodes said.
Cassia nodded.
After they left, she returned to Ark’s room, finding him—as Caius had said—fast asleep.
He looked different without the glamour, yes, but that wasn’t what struck her.
It was the absence of his usual poise. Less steel, more soft breath.
His features, usually held in check by composure, had relaxed into something almost boyish in rest.
Now that she had a moment to breathe, she let her gaze roam.
His room didn’t just look organized. It felt aligned, intentionally so, like it had been carefully coaxed into balance.
Every item had its place, and every path was open.
Not a single thing blocked her view from one wall to the other.
Even the air itself traveled easier here, which she believed was the idea, to let power and magic flow unimpeded.
It made sense, in an odd way. She knew Nocturne Demons drew energy from structure and organization, but she hadn’t truly understood what that meant until now. This wasn’t just neatness. It was Ark, distilled into space: methodical, restrained, exacting.
Cassia crossed the room and, with a subtle gesture of her hand, conjured a palm-sized, honey-gold light that hovered just above her shoulder. In the profound darkness of the room, it carved out a small, warm sphere for her to see by without dispelling the deep shadows he needed.
She eased into a chair tucked unobtrusively in the corner, angled toward the bed but out of the room’s flow. Even here, she could feel it: nothing jutted, nothing pulled. No energy snagged.
Beside the chair, a small table held a single book: Introduction to Dealing with Cursed Objects. She let her fingers drift across the worn cover, lips quirking.
She still didn’t know what job, precisely, the men of Aegis & Ash did, but she could guess. Dangerous work. Patient work. Maybe even noble, if one tilted their head the right way.
She placed the book on her lap, opened it, and let her eyes skim the first line.