Page 77 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

Cassia stood at the long oak table, smoothing the edge of a napkin. She’d laid out a plate topped with a simple, fluffy omelet flecked with green herbs, a golden sheen of butter pooling at the edges. A ceramic mug steamed gently beside it. He could smell broth and perhaps . . . was that a whisper of nutmeg?

She didn’t notice him at first. The light from the high windows limned her in silver. Her curls had loosened from their tie, spilling down her back in that untamed way he was beginning to think of as specifically, dangerously hers.

Something in his chest tugged sharply at the sight.

He’d never imagined this kind of gentleness for himself. And yet, here it was, draped over him like a blanket she’d placed over his shoulders without him realizing.

Cassia glanced up, a small smile on her lips. “Better now?”

He cleared his throat, his words emerging slower than he’d like, “That doesn’t look like dry toast.”

Her smile turned mischievous. “I decided to take pity on you. Don’t get too excited, though. It’s a basic omelet, good for your stomach, but the herbs are fresh from Starlight.”

He sat slowly, carefully, and picked up the fork. The first bite of egg was fluffy, soft, buttered through. Salt and herbs, balanced just so. He closed his eyes. Immediately, he tasted the subtle magic laced through the mouthful, folded into the dish as naturally as salt or heat. It unfurled inside him like warmth drawn into chilled bone, tender but insistent, coaxing his body to mend what it couldn’t on its own.

Cassia, woven into food the way gentleness lived in a lullaby.

“Perfect,” he said quietly.

She didn’t answer. She just sat across from him and watched, hands wrapped around her cup, as if this small act of care hadn’t altered him forever.

Ark cleared his throat and tried to return himself to a semblance of normalcy. “You’re not eating?”

“I ate earlier at Starlight.”

He continued eating while she nursed her cup of tea. Her gaze was on him, lingering not on his face but a little higher.

“So. This is you,” she said.

He finished his last bite and placed his cutlery down. “This is me.”

“I can see why you wear glamour.”

She didn’t look unnerved—just thoughtful, maybe a little amused. “They certainly attract a lot of attention. People would be gawking at you and stopping you on the street. You’d never get anything done.”

He chuckled. “It’s happened more than once. I learned early that if I wanted peace and less stares, a more human-like façade was the only option.”

She smiled, her voice soft. “And yet you let me see through it. I’m flattered to be included in your inner circle.”

He held her gaze. She didn’t seem to realize how small that circle was, or how long it had been since he’d let anyone new inside it.

He gestured around the space. “And this is me too. Caius, Rhodes, all of us. This is what we do.”

“So you really do deal with cursed objects?”

His mouth tugged into a small smile. “Yes. Cursed, corrupted, hexed, haunted, forgotten. Artifacts with ancient power. Houses that should be homes, but have become tombs.”

Cassia tilted her head, and simply waited for him to continue.

“Aegis & Ash acquires properties or relics that people have given up on,” he explained. “Places and objects that are abandoned because no one knows how to make them safe. We purchase them at a lower cost, cleanse the spaces, contain the corruption, and restore them—magically and otherwise. Some we sell for a profit, others we keep and rent out.”

“And the artifacts?”

“Most of them are rare and dangerous, so we seal and study them, see if we can harness the power in a safe way. The most valuable we keep in our own vault. Some others, we sell to a limited numbers of collectors of rare items, to museums, or the occasional client who actually knows what they’re getting into.”

“Ah. That’s what the auction was for.”

“Precisely.”