Page 92 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

A stalwart guardian, Ark thought. One that took his duties seriously.

Still, how strange it was to have to reconcile this soft, purring creature with the blur of silent, devastating precision that had taken down a Construct like it was little more than a wind-up toy.

“How did you say your mother found Anuck?” he asked.

“She found him in the alley by that back door, years ago,” she said, wiping her cheek. “He was bleeding and barely breathing. She nursed him back to health, and . . . he just stayed.”

Anuck looked up at him and slowly blinked, as though confirming the story.

It made sense, more than he expected. If something ancient had once been broken and bound to this family by gratitude, by loyalty, then of course it would stay. Of course it would protect Cassia now. She was the inheritor to the debt it owed her mother.

There was more he could say. Things he could speculate, questions he could raise.

But instead, he said simply, “He’s done extremely well tonight.”

Cassia looked down at the cat in her arms. “He’s always been a character,” she admitted. “But never dangerous.”

Only to those who seek to harm you, he thought.

“He’s very devoted,” Ark agreed.

Anuck flicked his tail, then tucked his head beneath Cassia’s chin with the air of a creature who expected affection after hard work. She obliged, stroking his fur with obvious fondness.

Ark watched them for a beat. “I think he’s earned a second dish of cream. I’ll even pour it.”

Anuck trilled with approval.

Cassia pressed a kiss on the cat’s head and asked, “Will Alderrath send another bird?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t believe so. Anuck dealt with his Construct with overwhelming efficiency, and he’ll think twice about sending another. But I will set up protective wards around the building. Just in case.”

She nodded, and they stepped outside. The solid click of the lock as Cassia turned the key did little to settle the unrest in his blood.

Magic pooled at his fingertips, a low thrum beneath his skin. The thin lines of light wove through the air, settling on her entry door before spreading outward, lacing across the perimeter walls, covering the windows and all the openings, hooking into the bones of the building. Everything shimmered for a moment before the light died down, and the barrier was complete.

“It will hold. For now,” he said. A hollow promise. Nothing felt enough against this threat.

Her fingers tightened around Anuck, the cat’s ears peeking from beneath her coat. “And tomorrow?”

“I am calling for reinforcements.” The phone was already in his hand. His thumb moved quickly across its screen. “Caius’s wards are artistry. Mine is a blunt instrument where finesse is required. He will secure both premises before you open. Is dawn an acceptable intrusion?”

An almost involuntary smile touched her lips, though tension still bracketed her mouth. “A baker’s day starts well before dawn. Remember?”

He stopped typing. The thought of her in the pre-dawn light, a world away from this darkness, hit him with the force of a physical blow. “I do.”

They started walking back, the silence between them a chasm.

“So, Alderrath is targeting me, and my business,” she said. “I suppose that’s to be expected from a coward.”

A sharp, protective fury locked his jaw. He raked a hand through his hair—but the gesture did nothing to quiet the storm inside him. He should have seen this coming. Should have known Alderrath would stoop to this.

Guilt sat heavy in his chest, a cold weight he couldn’t shake. He had placed Cassia in a role that made her a target. If he hadn’t provoked Alderrath with the fake engagement, the Sanguine would have simply ignored her. Now his petty trick had brought retaliation to her door.

“This entanglement was never meant to draw a target on you. I took your conflict and turned it into a war, and I won’t let you bear its cost.” He drew a slow breath. He’d been using her as a shield, and the thought now sickened him. “My commitment to Starlight stands, but I understand if you wish to sever all connection.”

For her, it might be a relief.

For him, it would be an amputation.