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Lawrence led me up a grand staircase and into a long hallway, our footsteps muffled by opulent silk rugs. Lamps flickered to life as we passed, warm light blooming in our wake like we were the sunrise in spring.
The corridor stretched longer than seemed possible, doors to who-knows-where lining each side. We walked in silence until one door, indistinguishable from the others, opened without a touch. It just swung inward in one smooth motion, revealing the room beyond.
"This one's yours," Lawrence said, stepping to the side of the doorway. "No one will bother you here."
I raised my brows at him. "No one?"
"Not a soul." His expression was earnest. "Feel free to walk the grounds if you'd like. If you need anything, ring the bell by the door, and a servant will come to assist you. Otherwise, they keep a low profile."
I glanced into the space and immediately thought of Eshlyn's room on Floor One. Both were impossibly luxurious, but this one was smaller. It had dark wood furniture, A desk, and a bed with soft linens that looked like they cost more than I'd make in my lifetime. "Calling servants with a bell... that's... something."
"I believe they enjoy it more than standing in the hallway," Lawrence said, trying for casual, but in no way succeeding.
"That's... probably true, yeah." I shifted the jug of tea in my arms. "Well, thanks again for letting me stay the night."
"As I said, you're more than welcome."
"You did say that." I stepped into the doorway with an uneasy posture. "Goodnight, Lawrence."
He nodded, something soft in his expression. "Sleep well, Remy."
The door closed behind me with a gentle click. I stood there for a moment, taking in the space. Then crossed to the bed, letting myself fall face-first into it.
The mattress gave beneath me like a cloud, pillows so soft they threatened to swallow my head. All I could think of was how easy it would be to just sink into these sheets. To let them lull me to sleep...
Is that what it’s doing!? I shot upright, heart suddenly pounding.
Magic. Everything here is magic. All of it enchanted. The doors, the lights, the fucking bathwater probably. What if the bed is too? Holy shit, what if the wards make it so they can hear my fucking thoughts!?
I grabbed the desk chair and shoved it against the door, bracing it under the handle with a kick that vibrated the wall. Then stood there, staring at it.
…That chair won't do shit…
Nyla’s eyes followed me from where she'd curled up on the windowsill, tail flicking in what I recognized as judgment. I turned to face the window, staring out into the edge of the estate and the treeline beyond, watching in silence until my breathing finally slowed.
Gods, would you fucking relax already?
She blinked slowly. Unimpressed.
"Yeah, yeah. So I'm staying the night. It's not a big deal." I groaned, finally kicking off my shoes and coming to my senses enough to dislodge the worthless chair from the door.
I took one more deep breath and looked around before flopping face-first onto the bed for the second time. The mattress caught me like it had been waiting. Impossibly comfortable. "...What do I do, Nyla?"
She hopped down from the windowsill and padded across the bed to rest on my back, tiny paws kneading with rhythmic pressure.
"Yeah." I closed my eyes, letting her work like she could smooth out the knots in my shoulders. "A bath might help."
Hot water was already drawn in the washroom. Steam rising in soft curls. The scent of lavender thick in the air.
I was trying desperately not to think about how that happened, or if I was right about the bathwater being enchanted, so I just stood there, staring at the absurdly luxurious washroom. Not gaudy or ostentatious. Just... perfect. Deep silver tub. Soft towels folded precisely. Soaps that smelled like things I couldn't name.
If someone wanted to hurt me, they’d of done it already. I reminded myself, before locking the door with a physical bolt that felt reassuringly mundane, then stripped off the dress and sank into the water. Of course, that was pristine as well. Everything was so fucking comfortable, so carefully curated.
Just stop spiraling, please. I breathed. Our deal's up. That was it. The dinner. The chess game. Meeting everyone. That's all Lawrence had asked for. The favor was fulfilled. Done. Over.
So why did I hate it so much? Why did I feel like they still wanted something from me?
The lavender settled into my lungs with each breath, easing more tension than I realized I was carrying. I let myself slide deeper, water up to my chin, and just... breathed.
Nyla curled into the marble sink, spilling out awkwardly, as I stared up at the ceiling, watching steam wisp and dissipate against the dark stone and wooden beams.
Everyone had been warm. Genuine, even. No one had pushed. No one had asked me for anything. Isvood's ‘You're welcome anytime’ felt sincere. Dawn's hug had been real. Even Lawrence felt different. Like he’d been wearing a mask every time I’d seen him outside of tonight.
And he just... let me stay. No strings. No pressure… But people didn't do that. No one just invites you into their home, feeds you, laughs with you, lets you stay, and asks for absolutely nothing.
…So what do they want from me?
The question sat heavy in my chest, mingling with the bath's comfort and the exhaustion of the day. I was questioning everything, and that only scared me half as much as the strange, terrible relief that I didn’t have to leave.
I didn't have an answer, so I just let the water hold me as I tried not to think too hard about why staying here felt so much better than going home.
…
I finished in the bath when the water started cooling, skin pruned and mind mostly intact. Wrapped myself in a robe someone had left folded on the counter, soft as sin, probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. As if my wardrobe wasn’t more than a few items.
The room felt too quiet when I returned. No breeze. Too still. I could feel the hum of aether lining the walls, that persistent thrum of the overlapping wards. The silence stretched as I tried to settle, but my mind wouldn't stop turning over that same question I’d been asking since the bath.
I checked the hallway. Maybe a walk would help. Lawrence said I could roam the grounds, and sitting alone with my thoughts felt dangerous.
An orange glow quickly caught my eye from down the corridor.
It was a reading nook tucked into an alcove. A cozy little space someone had clearly designed for nighttime thinking. Two cushioned seats beneath a tall window, bookshelves built into the walls, with fancy crown molding, and a soft rug on the floor.
And of course, there was Lawrence. Sitting with his feet resting on the low table. A book open in his lap, and a single candle burning beside him. Completely unbothered.
He didn't look up immediately. Just turned a page with deliberate slowness, like he had all the time in the world. When he finally glanced up, his expression was unreadable. He met my eyes for a brief moment, then went back to reading.
"Do you always read here?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Or were you waiting for someone?"
He turned another page. "I find the silence more tolerable here than in the study." A pause. Then he tilted his head slightly. "But if it makes you feel better... you're welcome to believe I was waiting."
"Well, if you were waiting..." I stepped into the nook. "I'd call it an easily evadable error and tell you to go to bed."
He met my eyes again before returning to the book. "And I would ask, what's got you up and about, if not the search for... error?"
"I'd be surprised to know you were the type to wait around for blunders in judgment; after all, you said I could roam the grounds."
"I believe you know very well that I seize opportunity where it presents itself."
I couldn't help the small smile creasing my lips. "Maybe your opportunities aren't as memorable as you think they are."
"Perhaps." He closed the book slowly, thumb holding his place. "Yet here you are."
I glared at him. "I think if you have something to say, you should say it."
"You know me. I've never been one to mince words." His red eyes caught the candlelight. "But if you did come seeking company, I think you should name it for what it is."
"Bold of you to assume I'd seek your company." I shot back.
"I could never presume. But you'd be one of many."
I paused, studying him. "And what do you usually say to them?"
His expression was measured, but I caught the gleam in his eyes, like he was already having fun. "That I am much too busy to attend such nonsense." He leaned back slightly. "To you, though? I'd say the best mistakes are the ones worth repeating."
Another smirk tugged at my lips. "And if they're smart enough to be appalled by your arrogance?"
"So be it.” He muttered. “I am under no delusion."
I held his gaze a moment. “Neither am I."
He smiled then, fanged and slow. "I'm glad you decided to stay, Remy. My night is far more intriguing with you in it."
"That your way of saying you enjoy my company?"
"No delusions, remember?"
“Speaking of which...” I let my gaze drift out the window into the false darkness beyond. "...Your colleagues seemed to think you’d be seducing me later."
"As if I should be so lucky." He replied unapologetically.
"What a charming line,” I shot back immediately. “...And a bullshit way to avoid explanation."
Another chuckle, the sound low and genuine. "They know there is nothing romantic between us and enjoy poking at me. That's all."
"Hmm," I crossed my arms. "Well, they are... not what I expected. And I thought Dawn threw me off before I knew she could speak plainly."
"Did she get on your nerves? She’d probably enjoy it if she had."
"The opposite.” I almost grinned. “I think I like her more now."
"You would." His head shook, but I caught the reluctant admiration.
I studied him then. "Is that what this whole thing is about? Trying to get me to like you? Or them?"
"Would it be so bad if you did?" He said slowly. "If I knew you'd fit in and just wanted to give us both a break?"
Something's genuine there, but I’m not buying it. "Just tell me the fucking truth, Lawrence."
His blood red eyes carried an annoying amusement. "You're a deeply distrustful person, you know that."
I stared back. Studying. Gods, maybe we should just fuck already. At least that would make sense.
"How's this?” I finally said. “I'll trade you for it." Then stepped closer. Leaving the hallway behind. "Two truths. Answer my questions honestly, and I'll do the same."
He leaned in then, setting the book down in the space his feet previously rested. "Not sure I'm fond of those terms."
"Hiding some skeletons in your closet?" I teased.
"I think you know the answer to that."
My voice lowered a register. "Do we have a deal?"
"One truth." He held up a finger. "And if I can't answer, I'll let you pick another."
I considered it, taking note of the way he was watching me now. "Fine,” I outstretched my hand.
Lawrence gave a slow smile as his eyes traced my palm, then raised to meet my eyes. Finally, he accepted the gesture.
I expected the same searing bite that came with the deal I made with Nico, but nothing followed. No shock, no tingles, nothing that felt… contractual, just a bargain upheld by honor. I took note of it before slipping my hand out of his. “What is this really about? Why am I here?"
“Easy.” He leaned back in his chair. "I wasn't lying before. Isvood wanted to meet you before you surrendered yourself to prison. Things changed since then, as you well know. So I decided to bring you to my home, where I can be myself and introduce you to those I call family. The real them, not who they pretend to be outside of here."
“Hmm.” I studied his expression in the flickering light, searching for the lie in the angle of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. No patterns stuck out. He was unreadable. "But why did Isvood want to meet me in the first place?"
"You only get one." A slight smirk played at his lips. "And it's my turn."
"Well then, I choose that one." I tried to push, knowing it’d fail.
"Nice try."
I felt my frustration spike, fingers flexing against my crossed arms, but I guess that’d have to be good enough for now, so I surrendered it and motioned for him to continue.
“Alright then.” His expression softened again. "...Why don't you want to go home?"
Shit.
I stood there, caught completely off guard, as if it wasn’t exactly what he should be asking me. "Well... damn."
"Shall I pick another?"
"No, it's a valid question." I swallowed, slowly sinking onto the adjacent chair. "...That I should have seen coming."
"Very well," he said, voice genuinely casual. “No rush.”
“Okay.” I sighed. "I guess it’s hard to explain, but… " The candle flame caught my gaze as I continued. "...I do want to. I want to, but... every time I see them, it just feels like I'm ripping the air from their lungs, and they’re happy to let me do it if it means I’ll feel better, but it doesn’t.” Pressure began building behind my eyes. “...And all of you here just feel so… Invincible. Like I couldn’t hurt you even if I tried.” I blinked rapidly against the tears forming. “I know that doesn't make sense, but... That's all I've got."
Lawrence was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice carried something I hadn't heard before. Something almost... vulnerable. "It makes perfect sense… I know what it's like to feel as though you are the orchestrator of every tragedy in your life." He paused, taking a slow breath. "...And that everything would be so much easier if you could just stop caring."
My eyes glazed over. "...Yeah… "
He cleared his throat, the sound sudden in the quiet space. Then reached for his book again, covering his face enough to, at least, pretend to read.
An easy silence settled between us. Our deal was over.
"I haven't missed a morning jog with Lyssa since we started on Floor Two," I said quietly.
He cleared his throat again. "Second-guessing your stay?"
"No. I'll let her know… I think it might be nice to take a day off anyway."
"That’s probably wise… I’m certainly enjoying mine."
The robe fell back into place around my legs as I stood slowly. "Well. Thanks again for the room." Then turned to leave: "Sleep well, Lawrence. Unless you've got someone else to wait for."
His voice was gentle when he replied, eyes still on the book I wasn’t sure he was actually reading. "Good night, Remy."
…
I woke slowly, consciousness returning in gentle waves rather than the usual violent jolt.
No gasps, encroaching numbness, or Dent's voice echoing in my head, but he was still here. Still entwined by the bracelet around my wrist.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling beams, waiting for the crushing anvil of guilt to lower itself back down onto my chest, but it didn't come. It was still there. Looming, but distant. Like a ringing alarm, far enough away that I could still breathe around it.
I was… suspiciously well rested, I thought, sitting up slowly. The bed was still impossibly comfortable, the room still perfectly temperature-controlled, and I was still trying not to let it bother me.
The house felt empty in the way large places do when you're the only one awake. I listened for voices, footsteps, something. There was nothing. The halls didn't echo. Sound just... stopped at the wall, absorbed by whatever enchantments kept this place running.
Nyla stretched on the pillow beside me, yawning wide enough to show all her teeth.
"Yeah," I muttered. "I know."
She chirped, unimpressed by my suspicions.
I swung my legs out of bed, feet touching the soft rug, and grabbed the robe before noticing something was resting on the floor by the door. A piece of parchment, folded once, like someone had slid it underneath while I slept.
I crossed the room and picked it up to find…
Elza's picture. The same stick figures from last night. Me, her, Nyla, but the big frowny face figure was scribbled out in hilariously aggressive strokes. In its place, drawn with careful deliberation, was a smiling one. Crooked and lopsided, but unmistakably happy.
Something warm flickered in my chest. Sending a flood of emotion that threatened to take my legs out from under me. I fought the tears enough to set it carefully on the desk, smoothing out the creases.
What a beautiful drawing.
It took more than a moment to gather myself, but when I did. I remembered what I said last night, and that I needed to send an aether-script letter to Lyssa, hopefully before they started to worry. I wasn’t sure if it’d be possible from wherever the hell we were, but I tried anyway. Focusing my intent.
Don’t worry.
What else?
Taking a day off.
It was a short message. Blunt, but at least they’d know I was okay. I hovered for a moment. I could add more. I'm safe. I'll explain later. Thank you for everything.
But there was too much to explain or even rationalize, so I just sent it.
Don’t worry. Taking a day off.
-R
It vanished like it usually would, so I took that as a good sign.
…
The bell was mounted outside the door with a braided cord hanging down. Simple and elegant, the kind of thing I made fun of growing up. How rich people invented ways to summon servants without raising their voices. Some part of me didn’t want to use it, but no one was around, so I stared at it for a beat, then pulled.
A soft chime echoed before repeating somewhere distant.
Less than a minute later, the wall opened to reveal a bearded man, maybe in his fifties. Soft grey hair pulled back, simple black uniform, hands clasped in an annoyingly professional posture.
"Good morning," he said, voice smooth and practiced. His eyes flicked to mine and then down again. "What can I help you with, madam?"
"Morning." I studied him for a moment. "What's your name?"
He paused, something flickering across his expression. Something like confusion, or surprise, but his composure held. "My name?"
"That's what I asked."
"Ezekiel." He paused. "Madam."
"Nice to meet you, Ezekiel.” I motioned for him to follow me into the room. “I know you know my name, so don't call me madam, alright?"
His lips twitched, almost a smile. "Remy, it is."
I ignored the chair and took a seat on the desk, legs dangling. "I have some questions, Ezekiel."
"Then I will do my best to answer."
I gestured vaguely toward the washroom. "The bathtub was full when I went to bathe last night."
"Was the temperature not to your liking?"
Something about this annoyed me, but I tried to let it go, knowing he was just doing his job. "It was great, but how does that work? Is it enchanted or something?" I paused then, catching a chuckle he was trying to hide. "C’mon. Don't laugh."
He stifled it immediately, expression smoothing back into professional neutrality. "We drew your bath before you entered the room, anticipating you may wish to bathe. The water is infused, not enchanted."
"I'm playing, Ezekiel." I waved a hand. "You can laugh. Relax. Just give me the lowdown, alright. How does all this work?"
His posture eased slightly, the formal mask cracking just enough to show the person underneath. "Very well." He released his hands from their clasped position, a small shift that felt significant. "We clean every time you leave the room and begin preparing the bath when you walk up the stairs. There is an assortment of fitted garments already folded in the dresser. If you have something specific you wish to wear, I will fetch it. If it is something we do not possess, we will acquire it to the best of our ability. Wherever you go, our directive is to stay out of sight, anticipate your needs, and have everything ready before you enter. It will be the same when you go for breakfast. Finally, we will learn your preferences and complete any additional tasks you require of us."
I stared at him, completely thrown. “What?”
He began again, but I cut him off. "...What in the fuck…" There were no words to portray how ridiculous that was to me.
"Is there anything else you require, Remy?"
"Oh hell no, you can't just say that and disappear." I hopped down off the desk, still trying to make sense of it all. "So, you anticipate and ready things before I get there. Fine, but how do you know where I'm going?"
"Surveillance." He responded, as if it were simple.
Surveillance. The word landed like a stone. "So you know where everyone is in this house?"
"There are not many occupants, but," his eyes flicked back and forth. "Generally speaking, yes."
Not creepy at all. "Okay. Where's Isvood?"
His expression shuttered immediately. "Lady Isvood's whereabouts are restricted information."
Now we're getting somewhere. "Lawrence?"
"In the study." An immediate answer.
"Why can I know where he is but not Isvood?"
"Master Lawrence has permitted it. He instructed us to answer your questions as honestly as is allowed." His hands clasped back.
My brow furrowed. I might find it interesting if I weren't so weirded out. "He knew I'd be asking questions?"
"He did."
Of course he did. "Can you see into the rooms?"
"No," He pointed vaguely to the doorframe. "But we are notified as soon as you cross the threshold."
"C'mon, Ezekiel." My head shook. "You gotta know that's fucking creepy."
He smirked without a word.
"Alright then." I began pacing back and forth in the room. Not anxious, just processing. "Which thresholds notify you?"
"Most of the doors, and some of the rugs."
The rugs. Wow. "How many servants are there?"
"I cannot provide..."
"Yeah. Alright," I cut him off, already knowing that answer wouldn't come. “I know I can roam the grounds, but is there anywhere I’m not allowed to go?”
“You are permitted everywhere you can get without a key.”
“Interesting.” I squinted my eyes. “You realize, I can probably get anywhere without a key.”
He smiled, but his eyes made it clear he wasn’t sure what to do with that tidbit. “Perhaps I will need to inquire for a more specific answer then.”
"Ayy, don’t worry about it.” I patted him on the shoulder playfully. “How long have you worked here, Ezekiel?"
His grin stayed. "Over forty years."
Forty years of watching people roam this place. "Do they pay you well?"
"Very much so."
"Do they treat you well?"
"Yes."
"Are you required to say that?"
"Yes."
“Uh-huh.” I eyed him for a moment. "What if you mess up?"
"Reprimands are a rare occurrence." His head shook in that professional kind of way.
“Sure.” I paused, trying to think of what else to ask. Then my brain, helpful as always, supplied the most absurd question possible.
"If someone were to fuck in the dining room, would you watch?"
That got him. His composure dropped into a belly laugh. "No." He wiped his eyes, still grinning. "...But we would be very thorough in cleaning the table afterwards."
"Damn, Ezekiel, that's fuckin' gross."
He shrugged with a smirk. "Comes with the job."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. There were too many questions, and every answer he gave only led to more. Like digging through endless layers of mud. "Fine." I sighed, actually feeling a little better even if it was invasive. "One more thing." Then picked up the scribbled-on parchment from the desk. "I want to hang this somewhere."
He studied it a beat, expression softening when he saw the stick figures. "Perhaps above the bedframe?"
"Yeah, that's a good spot." I handed it to him gingerly. "Thank you."
He took it carefully, as if it were something precious. "It will be done." Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
I stood there for a moment, processing the efficient strangeness of this place. Servants who anticipated your needs. Enchantments and comfort that shouldn't be possible. A house that responded without ever showing its hands.
They could pretend it was hospitality all they wanted, but I knew it meant control.
…
The dresser contained a selection of clothing that I would have gotten for myself if I ever gave a shit or had any money. Most of it was annoyingly accurate, except for a few off-the-wall items. I put the robe away and picked out a black tank top, with dark leather trousers that had just enough embellishment to be fancy without making me want to rip them up.
I dressed quickly and pulled my hair back. Val’s daggers now rested on the outside of my leggings. Eshlyn’s necklace was on full display around my neck, and of course, Dent’s soul was still wrapped tight against my wrist. The girl in the mirror looked... rested, maybe even composed.
Don't get used to it, I told her. However reluctantly.
Nyla hopped down from the bed and padded after me as I headed for the door.
I couldn’t help but take note when I would step on a new rug or pass a doorway. Silently wondering who was watching as I crossed the hall, and made it to the dining room. It was empty when I arrived, but breakfast was already waiting.
A single plate, perfectly arranged at the edge of the table. Scrambled eggs. Fresh bread, still warm. An assortment of fruit that looked like it had been picked this morning. Tea steaming in a delicate cup, and a crisp apple.
Ezekiel told me it would be here, but I couldn’t stop myself from staring at it for a long moment. Not sure why I felt the need to meet or thank everyone so adamantly, but I took a quick bite of the apple and rang the kitchen bell anyway.
A different servant appeared almost immediately. Younger woman with brown hair and kind eyes. "You called, M… Remy?"
"Yes." I gestured to the table. "Bring whoever prepared this out, please."
Her expression shifted, just slightly, like she was trying to figure out if someone was in trouble. "Right away." Then disappeared back through the door, as I hurried to shove some bites of egg in my mouth, so it at least looked like I had tried it properly.
They were exquisite, of course.
A tall figure emerged. Some variation of elf, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, short hair pulled back. His chef's whites were pristine despite what must have been an early start. His hands were dusted with flour, and he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly how good he was at his craft. "Is everything to your liking?" they asked, voice smooth as butter. "Remy?"
“Hello.” I held my hand out to shake. “What's your name?"
"Oh." He smiled, surprised but pleased, before peering down at his flour-covered hands, then back up at me like he wasn’t sure what to do. “Uhh.”
“Relax.” I took his hand anyway. “You’re not going to soil my pristine lil fingers.”
"Of course.” He chuckled and placed his other hand over mine. “Please allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed. “My name is Lucious, and I am the chef on duty this morning."
"Pleased to meet you, Lucious. I just wanted to thank you for the food. It’s perfect, of course."
Lucious's expression warmed as he followed me back to the chair, something genuine breaking through the professional mask. "I'm glad to hear it.” They smiled. “Any notes I should add for tomorrow?"
“Tomorrow?” The question yanked some fresh paranoia back into my gut. “Uhh… I’m not sure I’ll be here tomorrow.” A lie. I knew it was a lie, and that scared the shit out of me more than I could admit.
“Very well.” He bowed again. “I will put you down for an omelet, just in case."
I nodded, knowing full well I wasn’t fooling anyone. “Yeah. Okay. Sure.”
He turned to leave, but I stopped him. “Wait… uhh.” I glanced toward the door, toward where I knew the study would be. "Could you prepare another plate, and something meaty for Nyla, please?"
Their smile widened. "Right away, Remy." Then disappeared back into the kitchen, and I sat down at the table, staring at the perfectly prepared breakfast.
What am I doing? Thanking servants. Asking their names. Bringing food to Lawrence, who probably already ate, like we were what? Friends?
A heavy sigh escaped as I picked up my fork and took another bite of the eggs.
So good.
An aetherscript appeared then. Silver letters on blue glass.
Enjoy the day, Rem. Val wants to know if Lawrence is keeping his ‘grubby hands’ to himself. - Lyssa
Before I could even think about replying, another appeared next to it.
Lyssa is lying. I didn’t say that. Are you good? - Val
Some part of me flinched like I should leave them alone, but something about it managed to pull a real smirk out of me. Besides, I’d never seen Val cast anything before. So I wrote back.
I slept well. Since when can you cast aetherscript? - R
It disappeared, and another replaced it immediately.
I’ve never seen Val so motivated to learn. Hows things? - Eshlyn.
I flicked the one from Lyssa away and replied to Eshlyn.
One at a time, please. Sheesh. I’m good. Eating breakfast. - R
A long moment passed before the next one came. It was almost comical thinking about them all gathered together. Probably in the main room, looking over each other's shoulders, thinking about what to say. The image crept the looming anvil of guilt just a smidge closer, but I managed to push it away, just enough.
They cook better than me? - Lyssa
Well, I can taste these so… Nah, yours are way better. No comparison. - R
This pause was long enough for me to finish the eggs and bread. I thanked Lucious as he set some strips of steak down for Nyla. She couldn’t carry them all away, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Jaws full, and limbs awkward.
Come home soon? - L V E
I stared at the message. I wanted to say yes. More importantly, I wanted to mean it. That I’d be home soon. I wanted to say thank you. For trying. For not giving up on me. For everything. But the words felt too big. Too honest. So I kept it simple.
Yeah. Thank you. - R
The second plate arrived next. Perfect timing.
…
The study was massive, more like a library.
Two stories of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, connected by a second-floor balcony and spiral staircase that jetted out from the wall, along with various ladders that slid on rails. Floating chandeliers illuminated the vast space, vaguely mimicking the morning light that should be filtering through tall windows if the outside wasn’t locked in perpetual darkness.
Lawrence sat in a high-backed leather chair on the second floor, feet kicked up on an ottoman, a crystal glass of wine in one hand and that same book from last night in the other. He looked completely at ease. Like he owned the world and was only mildly interested in it.
I carried the second plate of breakfast up the stairs, footsteps muffled by thick rugs, and set it down on the table beside him.
"Morning," I said, settling into the chair across from him. "I brought breakfast."
He glanced at the plate without moving. Steam still rose from the eggs.
"Yeah, I know you've got wall-servants who can conjure you anything," I added, feeling suddenly stupid for bringing it. "But I guess I was feeling kinda useless. So. Here."
His expression softened slightly. He set the book down, careful to mark his page, and picked up the fork. "That is very thoughtful." He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully. "Thank you, Remy."
"What are you reading?" I asked, nodding at the book.
"Fiction.” He replied as Nyla stomped in, looking proud of the large slice of steak she was currently carrying around. “A story written by one of my favorite philosophy professors."
I tilted my head. "You're reading fiction?"
A smirk creased his lips. "Does that surprise you?"
"Sure does.” I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. “Figured you'd be too busy plotting tower domination or something."
"All in due time." He winked with a sly smile. "Even tyrants need hobbies."
I felt heat creep into my cheeks and looked away, annoyed at myself. Stop that. He's just fucking with you. "Not to be rude," I said, forcing my voice casual, "but the level of luxury here is kind of ridiculous."
"Yes, well." He gestured vaguely with his fork. "When you have more coin than you can spend and centuries to refine your tastes, it happens naturally."
"It seriously doesn’t bother you? Being watched all the time?"
He paused, tilting his head in mock consideration. "Watched is not quite the word I'd use. But no. Why should it?"
“Besides the obvious creepiness, surely it’s occurred to you that at least one of them might spill your secrets?"
He smirked. "They couldn't if they tried."
The certainty in his voice sent a chill down my spine. "Well, that's... unsettling."
He smiled, amused. "I think most would find it reassuring. Perhaps even enjoy the wonder of it all without questioning every detail."
“Uh-huh.” My head shook. "Most wouldn't have so many details to question."
"Perhaps not. But then our little games would be so much less entertaining, wouldn't they?"
I couldn't help the smirk. "Speaking of, Ezekiel said I should mention the terrible dream I had last night."
Lawrence's brows furrowed immediately. "Did he?" His tone shifted, still controlled, but suddenly sharp. "I find that highly irregular."
I studied him. "That I'd have a bad dream, or that I'd tell you about it?"
"Both." His head tilted. “I suppose.”
"Because the beds are enchanted?" I questioned, feeling like I already knew but needed to hear him say it.
"Well, yes, of course." No evasion. No denial. Just flat confirmation.
Holy shit. I was right. "Let me guess, mind-control for my safety and comfort? How thoughtful of you. What the actual fuck, Lawrence?"
He actually laughed. Not the practiced charm I was used to, but something genuine.
I stared at him, caught between vindication and confusion. "What's so goddamn funny?"
He chuckled through another bite. “And what do you think it’s doing then? Lulling you into submission?”
My eyes flicked down and back up again. “...Well yeah…”
That pulled another one out of him. A real belly laugh, that I couldn’t help but smirk at. "And you’re much too smart for that, aren't you?”
"...That’s right." What the hell is happening? "You should've known better than to try."
"Good heavens. Beds that help one sleep," He said, still grinning, "Truly the mark of a villain."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Damn. "Well… Fine. Yeah, okay." I shifted in my seat, shoulders reluctantly easing. "I guess you got me there."
“Oh gods.” He chuckled again, genuinely amused. "You humor me."
"Alright, it's not that funny." My eyes rolled despite myself. "And I’m not done, you still got some fuckin’ explaining to do."
“Of course.” He reclaimed his book, then sat back in his chair. "I can’t wait for this."
My eyes rolled. Annoyed. "Nothing comes without cost. That's what you said."
"It is."
"We made a deal."
"Mhmm."
"I know what you gave me was valuable, and in return, I promised you a favor."
"Go on."
"For whatever reason, you asked for dinner. I didn't know with whom or what for, but I came anyway."
"Mhmm." He turned a page. "So?"
My jaw tightened. "So stop acting like I've given you anything in this deal. The food. The room. Everyone's been so nice to me. It's too much."
"And your point is, what exactly?" He didn't look up from his book. "You want them to be less hospitable?"
I reached across and ripped the book out of his hands. "My point is that if this is our deal, then it's bullshit… So what gives?"
His expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his features as he finally gave me his full attention. "What gives, you say?" He repeated with mock thoughtfulness. "How poetic."
"What's the fucking catch, Lawrence?" I insisted.
"The fucking catch." His lips curved into something that annoyed me right back. "Truly, you have such a way with words."
I stared at him, deadpan and unblinking.
He sighed, gesturing with his arms. "Our deal is uneven."
"Wildly."
"Very well." He sat up straighter, feet coming off the ottoman. "But we've made more than one deal, Remy. Do you remember the previous one? The one you so eloquently eluded me on?"
Shit. "Xolob?"
"Close, but not quite."
I thought for a moment before my stomach dropped. "...I agreed to let you train me…"
His head tilted. Eyebrows raised. "And do you remember what I said would happen if you carried on without proper guidance?"
My lips pursed, and the words came out defeated. "You said it would consume me."
"Oh, did I?" Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.
"Don't be a fuckin' prick." I tried for bite but had none.
"I admit our most current arrangement is less than equal," he said, leaning back again. But something in his posture had changed. Less casual. More deliberate. "But you've done an excellent job of skirting me. And so I let you walk away. Gave you space." He paused, red eyes meeting mine. “I thought you'd come back on your own, and maybe that was naive of me… Doesn't matter now."
His voice softened, just slightly, but enough that I noticed. "I should have done a better job at communicating the risks.” His eyes trailed to the floor. “I won't pretend your burden is mine, but I can't help but feel partially responsible for what's happened."
The words landed with weight I didn't expect. Guilt. Actual, visible guilt in his expression.
"That's it then?" I asked quietly. "You want me to stop avoiding you?"
His polished posture returned like a switch being flipped. "That would be beneficial, yes."
We stared at each other across the small table. Somewhere in the library, a clock ticked.
I wanted to believe him. Gods, I wanted to believe him. That this was just about training. About preventing me from fucking up again. About him feeling responsible because he'd let me walk away. It made sense. All of it made sense, but I knew better.
“I grew up on the streets, Lawrence.” I leaned in, setting his book down. “I’ve been abandoned. Left to die in ditches. Told that I wasn’t worth the bread it would take to feed me.” The mask of his expression cracked as my gaze softened, and my voice fell to barely a whisper. “I have fought and scrounged for every day of life since I was old enough to remember what it feels like to go hungry.”
His eyes flashed with something like genuine sadness, anger, or both.
“So believe me, when I tell you, I know better than to think that anyone would give two shits about what happens to me.”
A silence permeated the air between us.
"Remy." The seriousness in his expression cut through everything else. "You are not that child anymore. You survived. Despite everything stacked against you, you're here. Do you know how rare that is? How many people would have given up long ago, and never gotten the chance to become anything more?”
“And you're telling me what?” I interrupted. “You want to make me… more… out of the goodness of your heart?”
“No.” He leaned forward slightly. “I’m saying, you are more. More than just a rarity. You are cunning, brave, and powerful enough to challenge me in my own home.”
Something in my chest cracked, but I couldn't look away.
"You are not worthless. You never were." His voice was quiet, certain. "You are valuable, and anyone who made you feel otherwise was either a fool or trying to keep you small enough to control.”
I blinked hard, staring down at the table, trying not to let him see how hard that hit me.
When I trusted my voice, I finally nodded. "Fine… I’ll let you train me."
Something shifted in his expression, relief, maybe, or satisfaction. Gone too quick to tell. He nodded once, then let the moment settle before picking up his fork. "Good." He paused, like he was giving me space to recover. "We can begin… "
"I have a condition." I blurted out, still a bit flustered.
His fork paused halfway to his mouth. "You stated your conditions when our original deal was struck. You cannot simply stipulate more now."
"Old deal, you train me. New deal, I stop avoiding you." I leaned forward, finding myself again. "Completely different agreements."
"Ah." He set the fork down deliberately. "And here I thought my bed was already lulling you into submission."
"I'm serious, Lawrence."
The amusement dropped from his expression. "Then speak plainly."
"You make figuring out how to free Dent your first priority." I held his gaze. "And you include me in whatever that entails."
He was quiet for a long moment, studying me with those red eyes. Calculating something. "That's an... ambitious request," he said slowly. “As I stated previously, if there were even a remotely simple way to bypass dissipation, I would already know it.”
"I don't care what it requires. If it’s possible then I want to know."
"You’ve made that evident, and if it takes months? Years even?"
"I. Don't. Care. I don’t care how long it takes." My voice didn't waver. "That's my condition."
Another pause. Longer this time. I could see him weighing something. “I suppose the research could be beneficial for both of us.”
“So we have a deal, then?” I said immediately.
"Not so fast," his gaze met mine again. "I have other obligations. Commitments I cannot simply abandon in lieu of your research." He leaned forward slightly. “But I can make this a priority. Perhaps significant enough to see progress.”
"That's not what I asked for."
"That’s what I can offer." His tone was firm but not unkind. "And it's considerably more than most would receive. I assure you."
I stared at him, jaw tight. Not his first priority, but it’s something. “You said it benefits both of us.”
“Yes,” He snatched his book back from my hands, “...And that is precisely why I'm willing to dedicate such substantial resources to the endeavour.”
It wasn't enough, or it didn’t feel like it was. But it was also more than I had any right to expect from someone who owed me nothing. "Fine," I said. "But if I think you're stalling… "
"You'll know exactly where to find me." A slight smile. "And I suspect you'll make your displeasure quite clear."
"Damn right, I will."
"Then we have an agreement." He extended his hand across the table. "Your mentorship begins today. And the safe release of the soul in your soulstone becomes our shared objective."
Our objective. Not mine or his. Ours.
I took his hand. His grip was cool and firm. "Where do we start?"
"I'm glad you asked."