Page 4 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

She ruffled Devlin’s dark hair as she passed, careful to avoid his horns. The half-demon boy hated being touched there. His eyes—too sharp for twelve—narrowed with questions he didn’t ask.

Her chest tightened. He shouldn’t have to carry this weight. His days should be filled with games and mud-stained knees, not the dread of losing the only home he’d ever known.

Back in the kitchen, Cassia sank into a chair. Opalina reached across the table, squeezing her hand. Lilibeth wordlessly poured a cup of tea, setting it in front of her with a square of dark chocolate on the saucer.

“What will you do?” Opalina asked gently.

Cassia rolled the chocolate between her fingers. She had already tried government channels. Their policy was simple: surrender the children, and the Ministry would scatter them across the country. But there weren’t enough homes willing to take mixed-blood children. And even if there were, she’d seen what happened to Untethered children in unfamiliar places—the bullying, the isolation, the runaways.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not while she still had a choice.

“I’ll plead our case with Agmon Group’s owner himself,” she decided.

Opalina’s brow furrowed. “And who, precisely, is the owner?”

Cassia lifted her gaze. “Agmon Alderrath.”

Both Opalina and Lilibeth winced.

“Of all the demons in the whole city of Angelene,” Lilibeth huffed, “of course you have to deal with him—a confirmed bigot and a total ass.”

“He’s the only one with the power to save Starlight.”

“And if he won’t see you?” Opalina pressed.

Cassia set the chocolate down, fingers curling into her palms. “Then I’ll go to him and make him see me.”

After Opalina and Lilibeth left, Cassia called Agmon Group’s office for the third time. A receptionist answered with a brisk “Please hold” before a peal of bland, vaguely pleasant music chimed down the line. She waited five minutes, then ten. When fifteen minutes passed and she’d yet to speak to anyone, she slammed the receiver down.

Silence—that was her answer. She had no choice now but to seek him out in person.

She packed a box of honey cakes, still warm from the oven. In her world, magic wasn’t the only currency. Reputation, hospitality, and small offerings still carried weight, especially among the old blood. Demon nobles were prickly about traditions. Showing up to plead for a lifeline with nothing to offer would seem presumptuous. But a gift, especially one laced with subtle enchantments for clarity and calm? That should send a message: I came in good faith.

As she tied a ribbon around the box, her heart twisted. The orphanage had always been a safe haven, but it meant nothing if the land slipped out from under them.

Starlight must be saved.

And she’d get Agmon Alderrath’s attention—one way or another.

Once Mrs. Thimble and Matilde returned from the market, Cassia went out into the crush of early Yulefrost celebration. Tonight was the start. For a month, the whole country would celebrate, as it had for centuries. Across the street from Starlight, Eldryn Gardens pulsed with festival light—the only neutral ground in a city divided into four distinct districts. She cut through the crowd, the scents of spiced wine and woodsmoke heavy in the air.

The Human District roared with a street fair’s chaotic joy behind her as she left, and beyond it, to her right, the elven spires gleamed like frozen starlight. She passed the Witch District’s entrance, shimmering with protective enchantments. Her steps slowed, and she couldn’t help but watch their domain—a glowing dreamscape, thick with enchanted fog and flickering illusions. Runes blazed in the air; snowflakes danced in rhythmic spirals.

A perfect, protected fantasy.

A fresh wave of bitterness washed over her. There, witches with known lineages and coven affiliations slept soundly in their beds, their homes secure, their futures guaranteed by ancient bloodlines and powerful friends. They’d never have a Revus show up at their door with a survey crew, intent on seizing their home. Their problem would be solved with a few whispered words in the right ear, a favour called in from a coven brother on the city planning council.

A recommendation from one of the society’s institutions would’ve opened doors for her, and for Starlight. Without one, she was just another Untethered with a bakery box and a desperate plea.

Cassia sighed and kept walking. Her path lay straight ahead, where the revelry grew quieter, colder, and far more expensive. As she headed north, the chaos of Yulefrost gave way to order. The Demon District didn’t parade or sing. It glittered in opulence: private salons and exclusive feasts, well-dressed guests drifting behind gold-trimmed balconies and obsidian gates.

She found Agmon Group’s office quickly, and found it locked just as fast. The brass door handle was cold in her grip, the windows dark. The company must’ve closed early because of festival night.

Panic, sharp and swift, tightened her throat. What now? Wander this gilded labyrinth, knocking on every imposing townhouse door, hoping a billionaire developer would answer?

She turned, as if the answer might be written somewhere on the structures around her—and . . . there it was. Two blocks over, at the district’s prestigious heart, a building with a cream-coloured marble façade snagged her eyes.

The Ivory Club.