Page 33 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

“Forget those arrogant covens,” Mrs. Tilly said, reaching for Cassia’s hand. “Why don’t we take a look at your fortune today? See what the tea leaves have to say.”

The hand pies smelled like they were nearly finished baking in the oven, but she humoured Mrs. Tilly with a smile. For a human of her years, Mrs. Tilly had the sharpest eyes Cassia knew—and an unshakable belief in the stories leaves could tell.

“Give me just a moment to check on some pies, Mrs. Tilly.”

Cassia made her way to the kitchen and opened the oven. The pies were perfect—golden, crisp, exactly as they should be. She set the pies on the rack to cool and made her way back to the dining room, pausing at the table where Opalina and Lilibeth were still picking at their lunch. A half-eaten slice of quiche rested on Opalina’s plate, while Lilibeth had a forkful of rich chocolate torte halfway to her lips. A small pot of dark ganache sat beside her plate, and every now and then, she dipped her fork in for an extra taste before taking another slow bite.

Opalina glanced up first, her jade-coloured eyes sharp as she set down her fork. “That bad?”

Lilibeth nudged her plate toward Cassia. “Here. Chocolate makes everything better.”

Cassia sighed, dropping into the seat across from them, eyeing the chocolate torte. “If only it were that simple.”

Opalina tilted her head. “Another rejection?”

Cassia hesitated, then pulled the folded letter from her pocket and placed it on the table. “The Willow Hearth.”

Lilibeth winced. “Oh, Cass. I thought they were one of the welcoming ones.”

“So did I,” Cassia muttered. “Apparently, their idea of inclusivity stops just short of me.”

Opalina tapped her nails against her cup, eyes narrowing slightly. “You should hex them.”

Cassia let out a short laugh. “That’s your answer for everything.”

Lilibeth took her hands and straightened. “Forget about them. Let’s talk about something else. You still haven’t told us about the other night.” Her dark brown eyes roved over Cassia. “Did you speak to Agmon Alderrath?”

Cassia sighed. “The office was closed. I went to The Ivory Club.”

Lilibeth cringed. “And?”

Cassia dusted flour from her apron, her stomach twisting. “Nothing worth talking about.”

Opalina gave her a long, knowing look. “Cassia.”

She sighed, resting her elbows on the table. “Fine. If you must know, I spoke to Agmon Alderrath.”

Lilibeth leaned forward. “And?”

“He refused to reconsider.”

The words sat like lead on her tongue. She’d known the odds were slim, but at the time, part of her had hoped it would be just that simple. She almost cringed at her own naivety.

Lilibeth scoffed. “Of course he refused. That bone sucker is as soulless as they come.”

Opalina’s expression was softer. “So . . . what will you do now?”

Cassia hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around the folded letter in her pocket. If she admitted to the bargain she’d struck with Arkenoth, Opalina and Lilibeth would never let her hear the end of it.

They’d worry. Opalina would try to talk her out of it, reminding her of every cautionary tale about pureblood demons—their cunning, their self-interest, their ability to turn any deal in their favour. Lilibeth would be furious on her behalf, certain Ark would exploit her, that he saw her as nothing more than a pawn in whatever game Echelons played.

And they might be right.

But . . .

She had read his missives, the ones that had felt strangely and unexpectedly personal. She’d seen him at Starlight, listening to the children, answering them without mockery or dismissal. She’d watched the way his gaze had lingered on the Memory Wall, quiet and unreadable, but not indifferent.

Cassia exhaled, shoving the thought aside before it could take root.