Page 57 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

The ensuing quiet was not merely a pause in conversation. It was the silence of a man who had realized he’d stepped too close to something that could destroy him.

When Alderrath spoke again, his voice had shifted—the bravado thinner, more careful. “She’s changed you.”

Ark’s reply was quiet, controlled, the darkness receding as quickly as it had come. “You don’t know me. Only what you think I should be.”

Alderrath hissed, “This will cost you. The Daemar will not be amused. Nor will your mother.”

“Let them choke on their expectations.” Ark’s voice had dropped to a near whisper that somehow sounded more threatening than any shout. “Because I will not change my decision.”

Cassia froze, her heartbeat thunderous in her ears. Her composure, so carefully rebuilt in the ladies’ room, lay in shards at her feet. He had nearly unleashed his Nocturne power in the middle of the Aetherium. Over a word. Over her. A man who wore his glamour every day to avoid attention had been seconds from tearing the shadows off the walls because someone called her a name she’d been called dozens of times before.

She pulled the velvet curtain aside before either man could speak again, forcing her features into a mask of mild curiosity. Her gaze found Ark first, then drifted to Alderrath.

“Oh—my apologies,” she said lightly. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

Ark turned toward her, his face composed, but a storm lingered in his golden eyes. His voice was softer now, a shield lowering. “It’s quite alright, Starling. We’re finished here.”

Alderrath held his stance for a beat longer, silver eyes cold with unspoken warning. Then, with a faint scoff and without any incline of his head, he turned on his heel and left.

The velvet curtain settled into place, sheltering them inside the quiet alcove. Cassia didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Ark turned toward her fully. “Do you want to stay for the rest, or shall we vanish and leave them wondering?”

She didn’t answer right away. Part of her wanted to stay, to prove she could sit through the entire auction with her shoulders back and her head high. But that part was tired now, worn out.

If she had anything to prove tonight, she no longer cared.

And maybe—just maybe—she wanted to give herself the small kindness of leaving before the fragile thing blooming in her chest could be crushed.

Her gaze met his with a steadiness she didn’t feel. “Can you take me home?”

Ark didn’t argue, simply offered his arm without hesitation.

Outside, the carriage door shut with a soft click, sealing them away from the murmurs and gilded cruelties of the Aetherium. The streets blurred past in gold-streaked silence. Ark didn’t speak at first. He sat beside her, hands clasped loosely in his lap, gaze lowered.

Then, at last, he looked up and met her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was harder than I thought it would be. The whole thing was . . . unfair to you.”

Cassia blinked. She hadn’t expected an apology, hadn’t needed one. But the fact he’d given it anyway meant more than she wanted to admit.

She offered him a soft smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

She made sure to say it smoothly—graceful, composed, unaffected. And he nodded, as if reassured. But when his gaze slipped toward the window again, she dropped the smile and looked away.

She had held her ground, played her part, and done it well. But in the dim safety of the carriage, her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. She pressed them flat against her thighs, willing them to still, but they betrayed her anyway.

Because what she hadn’t expected, what scraped deeper than she’d allowed herself to fear, was how much it had meant when he defended her. The words echoed in the hollow places she rarely let herself acknowledge, wrapped around her like silk steeped in wine, staining everything.

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have.

But for the first time, staring into the passing darkness, she desperately wished he did.

14

ARK

The lanterns of Little Mineola glowed softer than the Demon District’s—less polished, more lived-in. Where Angelene glittered with cold brilliance, these streets held warmth. A hush of sleeping windows, faintly creaking shutters, and the hum of ward-lamps blooming yellow above cobbled lanes. The carriage rolled to a smooth stop in front of Cassia’s home.