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"Whatever you need,” he smoothly assured her. Sliding his hands into the pockets., he pulled out a thick black leather pouch, lumpy with coins. The metal clinked as he placed it on the counter and nudged it toward her. “Take what you think is fair. I won’t be greedy with my old friend. But don’t ask how long I’ll stay either.”

A slick smirk crept onto Angelique’s face, her pearly white fangs on full display with dimples that pierced the night. Her hand flew over the pouch without hesitation, and she slid it into her pocket with a graceful chuckle. “I’ll just hold on to it. You’ll get this back if I decide it’s worth the debt,” she said slyly, reaching beneath the counter to pull out two thin silver keys. As she held them out, Kleitos leaned against the counter with a matching smirk.

“Fair enough,” he said. “But before you go robbing me blind, bring some whiskey to the room.” he glanced at the keys, “304. And some Trinty to the other, please.” Plucking them from her hand as she shook her head.

“Of course you’d think me your servant. You’re stuck in your privilege, Your Grace,” she said, her tone half-scolding but not without affection. Kleitos only smiled wider in response, turning to face us. He tossed one of the keys in the air, and Bomani caught it effortlessly.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Bomani nodded, looking between the three of us. “And please bring the strongest brandy you have. I’d like to be asleep within ten minutes.” With that, he turned and disappeared up a pair of wooden stairs near the entrance, his voice trailing off with a chuckle.

Kleitos placed the other key directly into my palm, his voice low as he leaned in, “I’ll see you up in a moment.” Nodding toward the stairwell Bomani had just ascended, he silently commanded me to follow. I gave a silent return of the gesture and obeyed, beginning my climb up the long staircase.

As I moved, I glanced down at the silver key in my hand, searching for the room number. Etched delicately along the narrow strip of metal was 315. The second floor came first, rooms marked in the two-hundreds, lined with polished black doors fitted with brass knobs. The building itself felt aged, the walls secured with thick slabs of pale stone, contrasted by panels of rich, dark brown wood. Everything smelled faintly of old smoke, wood polish, and lingering florals.

The third floor was noticeably grander. Unlike the starkness below, this level brimmed with quiet opulence. Verdant vines curled across the paneled walls, wrapping framed portraits and sweeping landscape paintings, each edged in gilded gold trim. Underfoot, a long-woven rug stretched the length of the hall, forest green with intricate detailing, a depiction of the kingdom from above. In its center, the castle stood proudly, surrounded by rolling woods and tiny painted homes branching out like veins.

I found room 315 with ease. It was tucked at the end of the hall. Unlocking the door, I slipped inside and quietly closed it behind me. The space was far more inviting than I had anticipated. It was nearly the size of my suite at Draco’s estate, though instead of one massive bed, two generously sized frames lined the wall opposite the door. Each was dressed in a thick, emerald quilt with rows of plush pillows stacked neatly at the headboards. A small wooden table and two matching chairs sat to the side, and across from the beds stood a large, pre-lit fireplace. Its orange glow licked the stone hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room’s decor.

Claiming the bed farthest from the door, it sat next to a lone window draped in white silk curtains. The fabric fluttered gently as if stirred by breath rather than breeze. Every corner of the room was rooted with small potted plants. Pairs of carved statues depicting the same woman stood throughout the room. Each one was sculpted from bloodstone-spotted jasper, deep emerald with freckles of rich crimson. Four that I could see stood out: two depicted her swollen with child, round and gleaming, while the other two showed her curled on the ground in contemplative stillness, arms wrapped protectively around herself.

With a soft grunt, I hooked the heel of one boot with the other and pushed it free. Both boots thudded against the wooden floor as they fell free from my feet. The mattress embraced me like something alive, and the pillows were thick enough to swallow my head. I wasn’t tired, my body had adjusted to daylight by now, but I knew I needed to rest. We’d be heading into the city tonight, and I had no idea what awaited me. For now, sleep would have to come, even if I had to force it.

Gliding my hand across the soft bedding, I sought the one person I wanted most. The spot beside me felt colder than it should have. It was vast in its emptiness. If she were here, she’d already be curled against my side, her hair a soft nest beneath my chin, and her arms locked around me like I might vanish if she let go. Just the thought of her touch summoned a phantom warmth that haunted me sweetly. I could almost feel the weight of her thigh pressed lazily against mine, trapping me between the bed and her curves. Her skin was always so pillowy soft…Damn, how I missed her. Even a few hours apart felt like a day too long.

Clenching my fist in the empty space beside me, my nails dug into the mattress. I was angry at myself for letting it feel this hard. With a sharp exhale, I yanked the comforter higher, curling into it like a shield, trying to suffocate the slow ache gnawing its way through my chest.

The door softly opened as my mind wanted to spiral.

Tracking the movement, I watched Kleitos's back push inside, pausing just over the threshold. He was still murmuring something into the hallway, likely to Angelique, but his words were too low to catch. Even hushed, his voice carried the same effortless charisma I'd come to admire. And for a moment, I hated how quickly he could slip back into charm. How easily he seemed to carry the weight of centuries while I felt like I was still figuring out how to breathe.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Angelique,” Kleitos replied with an easy chuckle in his voice. Backing into the room, he bowed his head before gently shutting the door with his shoulder. When he turned to face me, one hand held a sleek black bottle corked at the top. Gold lettering and intricate designs were etched into the glass a beautiful design. With the other hand, he carried two glasses. Leaning back against the closed door for a moment, he paused before crossing the room with a satisfied grin. “I’ve brought a treat for you,” he said in a tone that was far too delighted for the hour.

Nodding toward the small table beside my bed, he requested that I join him as he made himself comfortable in one of the chairs. With a sigh, I peeled myself from the mattress and shuffled toward him, wrapped in the comforter like a shroud.

I didn’t want to drink. I didn’t even want to talk. My head was still full of Valentina, of how it felt to sleep beside her, how the cold of this room seemed to sharpen her absence. It was more than obsession; it was something stitched into the marrow of my bones. But for now, I could pretend. Pretend that a drink would help.

I took the seat beside him.

With a swift pop, the cork flew from the bottle, and a pungent scent flooded the air, sharp, almost medicinal. Kleitos set one glass in front of me, and the other before himself. He began pouring, the liquid thick and crimson, like blood—but streaked with tendrils of something clear and oily that threaded through the red like veins.

Staring down into the glass, my nose scrunched. “That looks absolutely disgusting,” I muttered, leaning in for a cautious sniff. I immediately leaned back. The fumes punched straight through my senses, burning like liquor and herbs and... something entirely unnatural.

His shoulders began to shake as a low, thunderous laugh rumbled from his chest. “This is the Trinty I had Angelique bring up,” he said, still smiling. “I thought, since it’s your first night entering the city, it deserved some celebration. It’s something to be excited about.” Pausing, he reached out and patted my back, his hand lingering as he spoke. “I never imagined I’d get this moment with you. Never imagined you'd become someone so extraordinary. Even without my guidance, you’ve grown into someone… special.” His hand moved in slow circles against my back before falling to his side.

“My mom would really appreciate you saying that,” I replied quietly. “She gave everything to me. Her time, her love, all of it. And… Mark, he was a good dad for most of it. Distant sometimes, but I always assumed it was just because of work. So I never held that against him.” Even now, with all the anger I held toward Mark, I had to give him credit for what he did right. I couldn’t erase it.

Kleitos’ expression shifted, softening with a hint of sorrow beneath the warmth. “I’m glad you had him,” he said. “I should apologize… for how possessive I acted that day in the clearing. I surprised myself. Seeing him… I felt something I didn’t expect to feel.” He hesitated, then looked over at me with a trace of vulnerability. “I was jealous. Jealous that you called him your father. I’ve never had the privilege of hearing those words myself.”

That sent a chill of emotion through me, sharp and tender all at once. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have a child, one you never wanted to lose, taken from you and raised by someone else. To know they were alive and out there… loving someone else with the kind of unconditional love you had longed for yourself. That would destroy me. And yet, he had endured it. He let me live a life that wasn’t with him, not because he didn’t care, but because he did. He didn’t want to throw me into a world that wanted me dead. He protected me the only way he could.

I felt for him, and for myself.

Our bond would never have the origin that most fathers and sons get to share. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t become something beautiful. Something real. We had time. Or at least… we had this time. Though even that felt fragile now, with how the world kept folding in on itself. The forest was set ablaze by someone we both believed was more than family to me. But nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. “We still have all the time,” I said, offering him a soft smile. “You said you’re what, 3,021 years old? You don’t look a day over twenty-five. So I say we’ve got forever, right?” My fingers curled around the thick base of the glass and pulled it closer, eyeing the drink warily. My nose scrunched again at the sharp scent. “Well,” I said with a smirk, “let’s start forever by having this drink… just like you wanted.”

Kleitos raised his glass toward me, and I mirrored the motion. “To continuing to know each other, even through the trials. We'll see better days,” he said, voice rich with conviction. “To our own Valhalla in the skies of Velarune.” Clinking glasses, he brought his to his lips, drinking deeply. The crimson liquid disappeared effortlessly down his throat, nearly half the glass in one go.

I hesitated, bracing myself. If he could handle it like that, how bad could it really be?

Bad. It was bad.