Page 162 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

“One for the girls, one for the boys,” he said. “There are still two small rooms available—I thought you might want them for the eldest boy and girl.”

“They’ve been helping with the little ones,” Cassia said, remembering Devlin and Sirena. “I’m sure they’d appreciate a little privacy and peace.”

“There’s also an office for you,” he added. “And more rooms upstairs.”

Cassia glanced around the upper hall. Plaster was drying in parts, a few tools set neatly against the wall. Light pooled through the windows at the end of the hallway, warming the space with a golden glow. In the attic, he pointed out the future quarters for Mrs. Thimble and Matilde: two large rooms with sloped ceilings, thick walls, and a new bathroom already halfway installed.

They descended again, out into the backyard.

A large stretch of land waited behind the house. Frost still touched the edges of the soil, but even so, Cassia could see the lines of promise: a terrace by the house, a garden plotted near the fence, the perfect slope for a swing set or slide.

“We can build a greenhouse here,” Ark said. “So the children can still study plants and botany in winter. They’ll plant herbs, winter greens, even flowers if they want. We can hire a gardener to plant fruit trees. Over there, there’ll be a small field—large enough for games. And maybe a proper terrace here with a pergola. A place for meals outside, when the weather turns.”

She looked at him then, truly looked.

“Ark. You’re building Starlight a whole world.”

He didn’t answer at first. Just wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to his chest.

“I’m building what you and the children need and deserve,” he said, quiet against her hair. “A place where you’re safe. Where they’re safe. Where no one can ever take anything from you again.”

Her eyes burned. Cassia’s gaze drifted upward—to the carved lintels above the door, the wide windows catching afternoon light, the snowy field beyond where gardens would one day bloom. Her throat ached with the weight of it.

“How much is the rent?” she croaked.

Ark gave her a small, crooked smile. “One warm heart. Two steady hands. And someone who still believes children deserve magic.”

She turned away, blinking fast. “You’re lucky I’ve got all three.” Chuckling and sniffling at the same time, she pushed, “Truthfully, Ark. What are the terms? I need to know what this looks like on paper.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “You’re negotiating with me? Now?”

“I’m always negotiating. It’s how I’ve kept Starlight alive this long.”

His mouth curved. “The property belongs to Aegis & Ash. The lease is yours—indefinitely, for a nominal rent. We’ll put it on paper. Register it, if you want. Anything to make it legally binding so it doesn’t keep you up at night.”

She searched his face for any trace of pity. Found none. Only that steady, infuriating certainty.

“You showed me what true strength looks like,” he said, quieter now. “You kept Starlight alive all these years. You were ready to sell your parents’ home to keep the children together.” He gestured to the house around them. “This is me putting my resources behind that strength. Supporting it.”

He stared at her for a moment longer, then bowed his head, pressing his forehead to hers. Their fingers laced together, warm and steady.

“You inspired this. You made it impossible for me to stand by any longer. So don’t ask me about terms. Ask me how soon you can move in.”

A soft, disbelieving laugh trembled from her lips. “How soon?”

“In five days. Maybe four.” A determined, almost boyish grin touched his mouth. “I think I can force Oromon to bring in more workers. We’ll pump in more magic to finish faster.”

She couldn’t process it. Starlight—safe. The eviction notice, the constant fear of rising rent, the looming threat of Alderrath—all of it, gone. A solid, beautiful future was being laid at the children’s feet.

He tilted his head, his nose brushing hers. “And if there’s still a little room in your heart,” he murmured, his voice raw with vulnerability, “I’d like to be part of the bargain too.”

Cassia didn’t laugh this time. She stood on her toes and kissed him, pouring all her relief, her gratitude, and her love into the touch.

“Silly demon,” she whispered against his lips, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve had it, almost from the start.”

Inside, Cassia’s gaze drifted once more across the room—the honeyed floors, the pale light, the wide windows looking out over snowy fields. A different kind of quiet lived here. Not the kind built by years of shared laughter, whispered stories, midnight comforts—but the kind that waited to be filled.

She closed her eyes and listened.