Page 152 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

Satisfaction curled at the corners of her mouth. “It’s a cure-all. The recipe’s from the orphanage—we feed it to the children whenever they get the chills.”

When she offered more, he didn’t speak—just held out the cup again.

For a moment, they sat without speaking. Her thumb traced the ridge of the thermos cap while she watched the steam curl upward. What did one say to a Daemar? The man who commanded shadows, who had just defied death. She couldn’t ask about the weather—that felt insulting. Couldn’t ask about his health—that felt too intimate.

“There’s a wooden box inside that cabinet,” he suddenly said, gesturing toward the far wall. “Bring it here.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“A box. You’ll see it.”

Cassia rose and crossed the room. The cabinet in question was carved with subtle vinework and polished to a mirror sheen. When she opened the door, she immediately saw what he meant—a square wooden box, smooth and deep red, inlaid with small brass stars.

It was heavier than it looked. She brought it back to the bed and set it on the small table over his lap.

Inside was a half-finished jigsaw puzzle: a constellation map, judging by the tiny, star-spattered fragments nestled in velvet lining.

“Sit,” he said.

She pushed her chair closer to the bed and sat. They worked in silence, save for the soft snick of pieces finding their home. It soothed the rawness in her chest. There was a simple, undeniable logic to it. A problem that could be solved with patience and a steady hand, unlike the beautiful, messy catastrophe of her own life.

His hands moved slower than hers, still recovering, but he had a steady eye for shape and negative space. A strategist’s approach. Deliberate. Exacting.

Cassia let herself focus on the puzzle for a while until she felt the Daemar’s eyes land on her. She glanced up. He was quiet for a long moment, studying her with an intensity that made her want to curl her shoulders to her ears.

He asked, “Who were your parents? Do you know anything about where they came from?”

She shook her head. “They were orphans themselves. They never found their parents.”

Her stomach dropped as the words left her mouth. She figured Kassenor must’ve sensed she was Untethered, but he was now learning just how Untethered she really was. But the Daemar simply studied her before turning his gaze back to the piece in his hand.

“You do puzzles often?” Cassia asked.

“When I want to think,” he replied. “Or stop thinking.”

Cassia nodded and fitted a corner piece. “And which one is it today?”

“I haven’t decided.”

They worked a little more, the rhythm of searching and placing becoming oddly calming.

Then, without looking at her: “Do you enjoy puzzles?”

She glanced at him sidelong, a little smile on her lips. “Is that a test?”

“It is a question,” he said. “Puzzles aren’t about putting things together. They’re about figuring out what’s missing. Some people hate that kind of uncertainty. Others make it their whole life.”

Cassia tilted her head, fingers sifting through the pile. “I like knowing how things work. Why they come apart. What holds them together.”

He gave a small grunt of approval. “Useful trait. Tedious, in excess. But useful.”

Another moment passed. Then he pushed a piece toward her side of the board. “That one belongs to the southern quadrant.”

She took it. Fit it into place.

“Why didn’t you tell the nurse you were a family member?” he said after a while.

She stiffened.