My nose itches.

  I lift a hand to rub it—and brush against something soft. Warm. Fluffy.

  Confused, I open my eyes and look down.

  Cattleya.

  Her arms are wrapped around me, nose tucked into the crook of my neck, legs loosely tangled with mine. One white, furry ear lies flopped near my face, close enough that I can feel its warmth.

  A quiet chuckle slips out before I can stop it.

  She stirs.

  I freeze.

  An incoherent little grumble escapes her as her arms tighten, pulling me closer. Then she stills again, breath evening out.

  For long moments, I don’t move. I rest my head back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, letting myself feel.

  My chest is warm. My spine tingles.

  I could stay like this all day.

  Maybe I would have—

  If I hadn’t noticed the door was open.

  Confusion gives way to dread as I lift my gaze.

  Signora stands there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing that same confident smirk.

  She notices me staring and lifts a finger to her lips.

  “Such a shame to wake her,” she murmurs as she steps inside, voice barely above a whisper.

  “Sadly… all the cargo’s loaded. Your friends are waiting.” A wink. “We’re just missing you two.”

  Her eyes flick down to Cattleya, then back to me.

  “Give her a wake-up kiss once I’m gone, will you?”

  Smug. Knowing.

  I force myself not to react—not to tense, not to speak—anything that might disturb Cattleya.

  But gods, that woman makes me furious. Still pulling strings. Still watching.

  She turns and slips out, closing the door behind her.

  I exhale slowly and brush my fingers through Cattleya’s hair.

  “Cat,” I whisper near her ear. “Wake up. We need to go.”

  Her ears spring upright, brushing my nose. I can’t help but smile.

  She stirs, blinking up at me, face slack with sleep and absolute peace. Then recognition settles in, and her lips curve into a wide, content smile.

  “Good morning,” I murmur.

  “Mornin’,” she replies lazily.

  I rub a hand along her back, coaxing her awake. “Everyone’s waiting for us. Go get changed, grab your pack, okay?”

  Her arms tighten once more—just briefly—before she lets go.

  “Mm,” she hums, already sliding off the bed and padding toward the door.

  I stay where I am, watching.

  She pauses, glancing back at me.

  Only then does heat rush to my cheeks as I remember what she’s been wearing this entire time. She looks entirely unconcerned, tail swaying happily behind her.

  After a moment, she slips out.

  I finally let out a breath.

  Oh, I am giving that bitch a piece of my mind today.

  But first—clothes. Hair. Makeup. Nothing fancy. Passable is more than enough.

  I pack quickly. As I pass the bookshelf, a pang hits my chest. I’d love to take some of these with me… but I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

  Then I remember.

  My papers.

  I cross to the desk.

  They’re gone.

  I search again—under the stack, around the room, anywhere I might’ve moved them.

  Nothing.

  Cold floods my veins.

  All the more reason to confront her now.

  The guard leads me down to a lower-level storeroom where the others have gathered. A wheelbarrow full of smaller crates and sacks waits nearby.

  I don’t bother greeting anyone. My eyes lock on Signora as I approach.

  “We need to talk,” I say quietly, my voice sharp.

  She grins.

  Before I can react, she hooks an arm around me and pulls me in, spinning me until I’m pressed against her side, held there possessively.

  “Alright, Missy,” she announces cheerfully. “Looks like we’re ready to go.”

  She gestures toward Cinna. “Do the honors.”

  “And keep your eyes open,” she adds lightly, her arm tightening around me. “You might learn something. Once-in-a-lifetime views aren’t cheap—unless you know the right people.”

  Cinna glances at me, concern flickering across her face. I offer her a tight smile. She returns it and turns her focus to the crystal.

  Beside me, I feel a familiar tail brush my arm.

  Cattleya smiles at me like everything is fine.

  And because of that… it almost is.

  Cinna steps forward and sets the crystal carefully on the floor, motioning for us to draw close without touching it. Signora drags me along with her, arm still firm around my shoulders.

  “By the first silence, return,” Cinna intones.

  “By the last breath, answer.”

  The crystal fractures with a sharp crack.

  Light floods the room—blinding, overwhelming. Voices echo, distorted, as if from very far away.

  I switch to my emerald eye. My normal vision is useless in the glare.

  Something emerges from the fog within the crystal.

  Small at first. Then growing—until it stands as tall as a person.

  Winged. Upright. Arms spread as if in prayer.

  It hangs above us.

  I look around.

  No one else is looking up.

  No one except Signora.

  Then the creature screams.

  A shrill, piercing cry—so intense I would’ve collapsed if not for the arm holding me upright.

  It sounds like a death wail.

  And then it’s gone.

  The light vanishes with it.

  “Hold on—ah. Thanks, Veil,” Ulric says as a lantern flares to life.

  Dim light reveals a cavern around us.

  It takes a long moment for my eyes to adjust.

  “Is this… Imone, look at that crater,” Cinna says, pointing nearby.

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  I squint, still half-deaf. “Sorry—what was that, Ci? My ears are still ringing.” Signora releases me and gives my pack a casual pat.

  “Your ears?” Cinna asks, frowning. “Did something happen?”

  “You know those Vesfel ears, missy,” Signora cuts in, amused. “Sensitive as sin, those.”

  Veil turns toward her. “What was that?”

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” she says lightly. “I just said you’re gorgeous.”

  Veil’s cackle echoes through the cavern.

  My ears are still ringing.

  Was I the only one who heard that scream?

  I glance at Cattleya. She looks concerned—but otherwise unharmed.

  “Imone?” Cinna presses again, stepping closer, worry written all over her face.

  I manage a weak smile as she takes my hand and gently guides me forward, toward the crater.

  “Wait…” I murmur. “Isn’t this where we fought that puppet?”

  I look back at Cattleya. Her brows lift, and she turns slowly, nose twitching as she scents the air.

  “Mm.” She nods.

  “Puppet?” Cinna’s face tightens. “Imone, why didn’t you say anything?”

  I flinch, eyes dropping. “We talked about it. I wasn’t trying to hide it—well. I guess I kind of was.”

  “Did you notice anything about it?” she asks quickly. “Marks? Features? Anything at all?”

  “It was… featureless,” I say slowly, sorting through the memory. “Like one of those store mannequins, but articulated.” I pause. “When I broke through its chest…”

  Cinna leans in.

  “There was a huge white crystal inside. Looked like the core. Once it cracked, the puppet started failing.”

  “…A Talian crystal,” she breathes.

  Silence stretches.

  “The only people with the means to both acquire and manipulate one…” Her voice falters. Fear flickers in her eyes.

  “So Edgar was behind what happened here,” Ulric says, stepping forward, jaw set.

  “Magic on those heads? Strong stuff.” Veil adds grimly. “No street thugs could’ve pulled that off, cove.”

  “…So the thing I fought,” I say slowly, “that was Edgar?”

  Cinna looks away, then nods. “We can’t be certain it was him personally—but tied to him?” She meets my eyes. “I have no doubt.”

  I exhale, trying to process everything while my head still hums.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch movement.

  I look up.

  Signora is grinning.

  Tall as ever, teeth flashing white in the dim light.

  “Such a shame,” she says, mock-sympathetic. “I knew Edgar was a sick puppy—but to think he’s been troubling you fine folks too.”

  Her tone is apologetic. Her expression is anything but.

  “Let’s move, Chariot,” Ulric says. “Standing around won’t help us.”

  We push into the tunnels, Cattleya staying close at my side. Her proximity tugs at memories—back then, I feared she’d be the reason I lost everything. But now…

  “Just as I feared,” Ulric mutters, tapping a wall ahead. “They resealed the sewers. We might be stuck.”

  “Can’t we just bash through and say sorry after?” Veil asks.

  “There’ll be a fine,” Ulric replies, glancing at Signora. “Our Aureate contract covered damages like this before.”

  “Consider it covered, Captain,” she says with a wink.

  Ulric sighs, sets the wheelbarrow aside, and shrugs off his pack. He lowers himself, then charges—shoulder-first—into the wall.

  Bricks explode outward in a cloud of dust.

  He grunts, retrieves his pack, and resumes position.

  “See?” Signora says, pleased. “I do love a man who solves problems so decisively.”

  Ulric grunts again. “Look presentable. We don’t know who heard that.”

  He pushes the wheelbarrow through the breach.

  We navigate the narrow sewer passages, ducking under low arches meant for anything but people. Eventually, we emerge into a larger chamber.

  A lightly armored sentry notices us late—but when he does, his hand jumps to his sword.

  “Valiants. Chariot Squad,” Ulric says evenly.

  The man relaxes at once.

  “Send for Lieutenant Rogier,” Ulric continues. “We’d like to pay for damages and discuss a case he’s investigating.”

  The sentry blinks, clearly out of his depth.

  Ulric waits a beat, then softens. “How about this—unlock the ground-level door and walk us to the tower. Lucius will sort the rest.”

  The sentry nods, still wary, and leads the way.

  We climb the stairs back up into the streets of Vellaris. It’s only early afternoon. I suppose that’s one thing I didn’t miss—walking through the city without having to swim against the tide would be nice.

  We bunch up instinctively, Ulric at the front as always. From within the pack, I glance up—he and Signora tower head and shoulders above the rest of us.

  Bovaryn really are that tall, huh?

  As usual, Cattleya and I end up toward the back. Shoulder to… shoulder.

  I pause, looking more closely.

  …She’s taller than me. Not by much—but the way she clings to me, I keep thinking she’s shorter.

  My gaze drifts down to her arm. One of the rare moments I’ve seen her without her jacket. The definition of her muscles stands out, accentuated by a tight leather band around her bicep.

  My cheeks warm.

  …She’s stronger than me, too. Even if she’s always so gentle. So soft.

  The line slows abruptly as the street thickens with foot traffic. I bump into Veil’s back.

  “You doin’ alright, cove?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Sorry—sorry,” I mutter, drawing a few curious looks.

  I really need to focus. There’s just… too much.

  Before, we’d had those long, easy days. Til was good at finding work like that—jobs that paid well and asked little. Guard duty. Time to write. Time to think.

  Just me and—

  Til.

  I realize I haven’t thought about him in a while. I hope he’s doing alright. Getting along with his squad.

  Lost in thought, I barely notice when we reach the tower. The walk would’ve been shorter if not for the afternoon rush. Inside, we’re greeted by that familiar, comforting quiet.

  We spread out in the lobby. Tension drains away almost immediately—stretches, cracked joints, long breaths.

  “I really want to forget all of this and crawl back to my room,” Ulric says dryly. He glances back, then shrugs. “Veil, can you call Lucius?”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  The voice carries from above. A moment later, the familiar figure descends the stairs.

  Different robes this time—mismatched colors. Loose trousers that wouldn’t look out of place as sleepwear. Sandals. An unkempt beard. Hair half tied back, the rest falling wherever it pleases.

  Lucius hasn’t changed.

  “Wyrda,” he says flatly, eyes narrowing.

  “Old chum.” Signora spreads her arms. “I bring gifts.”

  He approaches, his usual detachment edged with caution.

  “My wish for you to never set foot in this tower remains unchanged,” he says, gaze flicking briefly to the wheelbarrow without touching it. “If you are here, you must have a reason.”

  He turns away, already halfway back to the stairs.

  “But if our past still means anything to you, you will leave at your earliest convenience. I will not have you bring ruin to this tower.”

  “Well, well,” Signora drawls, following him without invitation. “You may reconsider once you hear what your captain has to say, dear.”

  Lucius halts mid-step. He turns to Ulric, expression impassive.

  “Chariot Squad, you are dismissed,” he says evenly. “Reconvene in command in one hour.”

  He gestures to the Aureate sentry—still standing there, dumbfounded—and moves on without another glance.

  “Well, Captain,” I say lightly, breaking the silence. “Looks like your wish was granted.”

  “Won’t rest much, knowing what comes next,” Ulric mutters.

  “I, for one, am looking forward to wearing clothes I haven’t slept in for the past week,” Cinna says, already heading up the stairs.

  We grumble in agreement and follow. As usual, the group starts peeling off—Ulric and Veil first, then Cinna and—

  “Cat,” I say, slowing when I notice her still beside me. “Don’t you want to go to your room? Grab something clean?”

  She grumbles softly, gaze drifting away.

  I chuckle despite myself.

  “Come on. You can come by after you’ve changed, okay?”

  She mirrors my head tilt, a wide smile spreading across her face, tail swaying lazily. Then she darts off up the stairs.

  I notice Signora watching from the landing, waiting until Cattleya disappears before stepping forward.

  “…You,” I mutter, squinting at her as I turn for my door. “What do you want?”

  “Don’t be like that, dear,” she says mildly. “You said we needed to talk, didn’t we?”

  I don’t look back. I unlock the door and step inside. She blocks it with a hand before I can close it.

  “You’re just going to find a way to mess with me no matter what I say,” I snap. “So I’ve given up. Honestly—the less we talk, the better.”

  She smiles faintly and produces the missing papers.

  I sigh and step aside, letting her in.

  “I may have gone a bit too far,” she admits, setting them neatly on my desk, then lowers herself into my chair, legs crossing, gaze fixed on me.

  “You think?” I shoot back. “You invaded my privacy, messed with my head—lied to her. How could you do that to your own daughter?”

  She doesn’t answer right away.

  No smirk. No quip.

  I turn away, unloading my pack onto the bed.

  “She’s an awkward kid,” Signora says at last, gaze drifting to the window. “Cute. Hardworking.”

  She smiles faintly.

  “Loyal to a fault.”

  She exhales slowly. “Getting her to talk to people was an ordeal. She manages fine in military structures now, but outside of that…”

  She shrugs.

  “I’m her mother. I gave her a push. That’s what mothers do.”

  I keep working, but the edge dulls. Hearing anything—anything—about Cattleya feels grounding.

  “And if you’re not interested in her like that,” she adds easily, “I understand. Still appreciate you sticking with her. She needs friends.”

  Interested… like that?

  Images flash unbidden—her breath close to mine, her warmth, her eyes.

  If I hadn’t stopped her—

  My heart stutters. Heat rises to my cheeks.

  “Either way,” Signora continues, patting the desk, “I didn’t want to risk you leaving these behind.” A pause. “Good work. Needs structure, but it’s a start. I already had a contact in Callistra request your material be forwarded here in your name.”

  She scans my bookshelf, scoffing at the titles. Her grin widens.

  Cinna’s romance novels. Damn it.

  “I’ll have a few encyclopedias shipped in,” she adds. “Anything else you need—just ask.”

  I straighten.

  “Why me?” I ask quietly. “You could’ve gone to Callistra. There are full-time researchers there. I’m just… fitting this in between duties.”

  She smiles like I’ve answered my own question.

  “You know why.”

  She reaches into her coat and produces a book, placing it in my hands.

  “Homework.”

  I look down.

  My breath catches.

  “This writing is… Praelumen,” I whisper.

  “Still think I should’ve gone elsewhere?” she asks lightly.

  “…Who are you?” I ask.

  She only winks.

  As she opens the door, Cattleya is already there, waiting.

  “All yours, my dear,” Signora says, walking away.

  Cattleya steps toward me at once, tail high, smile bright. I smile back without thinking.

  I’m left standing there—holding a book that could change everything I know, with too many feelings tangled in my chest.

  I glance down at the tome.

  Then back at Cattleya.

  Is it really alright… to just go with the flow?