Page 80 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

She blinked. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. They stepped out into the corridor, the vault door sealing behind them in a series of clicks. Back in the main office, he reached for his coat, glamour flickering back over his features—horns vanishing, skin and eyes shifting just enough to pass unnoticed on the street.

“Besides,” he added, grinning, “someone needs to make sure you don’t get waylaid by errant bunnies.”

A laugh burst out of her. “I wouldn’t put it past Imogen.”

A moment later, they emerged into the stillness of the street, awash in early evening glow, the city alive just beyond Aegis & Ash’s derelict façade. The walk across Eldryn Gardens was brief, and though Ark didn’t speak much, she relished the comfortable weight of his presence beside her. When they reached Starlight’s familiar wrought iron gate, she stopped.

“Thank you,” she told him. Not just for walking with her, though she didn’t say the rest aloud.

Ark gave her a nod, his now-dull golden eyes reflecting the dying light. “Go on. They are waiting.”

He said that, but even after she walked into the courtyard, he remained there, watching her with that trademark unreadable expression of his.

The front door opened, sound spilling out to meet her—rushed footsteps, excited chatter, the creak of boots against the floorboards.

“Miss Aura!” a chorus of small voices shrieked.

Imogen launched herself at Cassia’s waist, clinging tightly, followed by three other children who quickly piled in for a group hug.

“We thought you forgot!” Imogen said dramatically, her scarf dragging on the floor behind her. “Miss Wren said we were leaving without you.”

Cassia laughed and hugged them all back. “I would never. I was only delayed by . . . a certain someone who needed a little help getting back on his feet.”

Lilibeth appeared at the entrance, looking exasperated but still smiling. Opalina trailed calmly behind her. Cassia had managed to secure her friends’ agreement to help chaperone tonight, along with Starlight’s teachers.

“Five minutes until the bus gets here,” she told the children. “Put your hats and coats on, everyone, and make sure your skates are in your backpack.”

The children scattered, laughing and tumbling over one another to fetch their gear. She knelt to help a young boy tighten his laces. As she tied the final knot, she glanced up and caught Opalina watching her, jade eyes gleaming with amusement as she tipped her head subtly toward the gate.

There, just past the threshold, stood Ark—stoic, horns concealed, posture slightly stiff as Imogen tugged at his sleeve and insisted he help her fix her scarf. And he was obliging—awkwardly, yes, but carefully wrapping the length of wool around the girl’s neck as if it were a dangerous relic requiring delicate handling.

A smile tugged at her lips. It was strange, seeing him like this. Not the man standing inside a vault of sealed horrors. Not the calculating strategist with a glamour to keep the world at bay. Simply a man being pulled into a child’s orbit, allowing himself to be needed.

And more than that—meeting that need without protest.

She couldn’t explain why it made her chest tighten the way it did. Maybe because it had been so long since she’d seen someone like Ark—powerful, untouchable—stoop to meet the children without arrogance. Without spectacle.

Just presence.

And wasn’t that what children needed most? Not heroes, but simply someone who would show up, see them, and not turn away.

Opalina sidled up beside her, checking mittens. Lilibeth handed out snack bags from a wicker basket, but her gaze kept sliding toward Cassia.

“So,” Lilibeth said casually, “how was the event last night?”

Cassia glanced up. “Dinner was lovely, actually. The food was beautiful.”

Opalina hummed. “And afterward?”

Cassia secured a hat on a child’s head, then exhaled. “It was an auction of rare magical artifacts. Interesting to watch, but the social scene was . . .” She didn’t finish.

“That bad?” Lilibeth asked gently.

Cassia didn’t look up as she answered, “The stares didn’t bother me at first. But later . . . I don’t know. They got under my skin, like I’d wandered someplace I didn’t belong.”

Opalina’s hands stilled. “I hate that they made you feel that way.”