The door to his father's bedroom clicked open, jolting David from his doze. A flustered Niala backed out of the room, bowing and apologizing, while Isaac walked out facing her, forcing her to backpedal. His younger brother closed the door behind them, and Niala slumped, letting out a long breath as her ears and tail drooped down.

  She turned toward David, and a smile drew across her lips as she began sauntering toward him, stopping a few steps away, looking pleased with herself, and waited.

  He tilted his head. “You figur-”

  “I figured it out! But it was super hard; the poisoner used two different ailments and-”

  Isaac cleared his throat from behind her.

  She blinked and turned her head, meeting the younger brother's reproachful gaze.

  “Niala, we do not discuss private family matters out in the hallway.” He warned her.

  Her mouth went round. “Oh. Sorry?”

  Isaac narrowed his eyes but said nothing more. Niala took it as the signal that she was out in the clear, and returned her attention to David, leaning forward slightly, conspicuously offering the top of her head to him.

  He sighed with a smile and gave her head pats. She pushed into his hand and moaned appreciatively.

  David glanced up at Isaac and smirked when he saw how his brother was pointedly looking elsewhere, with the tiniest brushing of a blush on his cheeks.

  “So, what now?” David asked as he stopped petting his girlfriend.

  She pawed at her ears before looking up. “Now, we're going to the alchemy lab, where I'll brew a slow-release energizer for your father. It'll help stabilize him for a few days, so your mother can get the ingredients I asked for, and then I can start brewing the cures.”

  David looked up from his girlfriend and at his brother.

  Isaac motioned with his hand. “Yes, exactly as the little miss has said. You can accompany us if you want.” Isaac said, walking past, and not stopping.

  David and Niala shared a smirk and caught up to the fussy noble.

  Jacob's bedroom felt strangely empty and quiet, even if he and his wife had grown accustomed to its sombre atmosphere over the last season. It was as if the catkin's presence had somehow brought a semblance of life, and only now that she was gone was its absence felt.

  Agatha sat at her husband's side, hands resting on her lap. He wheezed for a few breaths before coughing and clearing his throat. Jacob looked up to his wife, his eyes losing their edge now that they were alone.

  His voice was low, reserved. “You're acting different.”

  She gave him a soft smile. “I am.”

  “What happened?”

  “I didn't want to wear my mask anymore.”

  He looked into her eyes. “You never forgave me for kicking the boy out.”

  “Not the boy, Jacob, our son.”

  He grunted.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It has been, what, eight long years? Haven't you worked through at least some of your issues?”

  “You know I didn't.”

  She shook her head. “Don't lie to me. You did, you just don't want to admit it.” Her words were soft, but confident, just like her smile.

  He stared back, eventually turning his head to look away. “I don't know what you're talking about, woman.”

  He heard the ruffling of clothes, felt his wife lean over him gingerly, positioning her face so he couldn't look away from it. She was still smiling. “Jacob, dear, I'm not going to force you to see him as you are right now, but once you are better, I will die before I let him leave without facing you at least once. You two have words to say to one another.”

  Jacob scoffed. “Shout, you mean. I don't expect that particular conversation to remain civil for very long.”

  She shook her head. “Neither do I, but it must happen all the same.” She locked her gaze upon her husband's eyes.

  They remained staring at each other for a while. Jacob's eyes softened even more. Far from a strong and decisive Patriarch, right now, he was just a middle-aged man, in critically poor health, struggling with one of his worst decisions.

  “Do you think he might forgive me?” He asked, so low it might have been the wind.

  Agatha's smile grew a bit wider. She leaned forward and deposited a kiss on his forehead. When she pulled back, her eyes twinkled. “You both want to forgive each other. You also both don't want to be the first to do so. So alike, even though you'll go to the grave before admitting.”

  He scowled. “We are nothi-”

  She put a finger to his lips, meeting his gaze and raising her brow.

  He grumbled and turned his head as far away from her as he could.

  She chuckled and lifted herself off the bed, straightening her dress. “Rest, dear. I'll have Mireille come look after you. I must arrange for the retrieval of Niala's ingredients.”

  As she turned for the door, her husband's voice rose once more. “The girl. What do you think of her?”

  “Oh, she is a little gem. Full of life and compassion, smart like a raven. She reminds me a lot of... of our daughter.” She said, her tone melancholic. Her eyes unfocused, staring into the past.

  Jacob turned his head back toward his wife, finding her standing in place.

  “Agatha,” he called out, making her flinch and look up at him.

  “What is her relationship with... the boy?”

  A tiny smile returned to her lips. “Pure love, dear. Entwined like the reeds in the best-woven basket. I don't think we could pry them apart, even if we wanted to.”

  He hummed. “Should we let them? Stay together?”

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  She shook her head. “Did you not hear me, dear? This isn't something we get to meddle with.”

  “How are you so sure? You've barely known her for half a day.”

  She sighed, returning to her husband's side and lowering her head to be next to his ear. She whispered. “Because they look at each other like we used to, dear.”

  His eyes widened as he stared at his wife, who graced him with a coy smile. She turned and left the room.

  Jacob barely registered the maid stepping in and taking up her vigil at his side. His wife's words had been like a wind scouring a dusty old room, kicking up clouds of dust, each one a fuzzy window into the past.

  Of his life before he became Patriarch.

  Of a simpler time.

  After kicking the family alchemist out of his lab, Niala enlisted both brothers' help in “cleaning up this junk pile into a proper alchemy lab”. She then had David help her brew a few potions for the Patriarch, aimed at boosting his energy and easing his symptoms, until she could prepare the proper cures.

  Agatha had promised her it would take no more than a day or two, but they had little to do in the meantime.

  With the help of Isaac, they extirpated a promise from the resident alchemist to keep the lab in the same state Niala had left it, which meant immaculate and labelled. They then retired to the guest house, where they prepared themselves a light dinner and went to bed early, the weight of an emotional day dragging them both to sleep almost before their heads touched their pillows.

  Over the next couple of days, David gave Niala a tour of his ancestral home and the estate at large, showing her his favourite spots, visiting his friends among the staff that he hadn't seen since his exile, all quite happy to know he was doing well, and all rapidly charmed by the little catkin at his side.

  On the second day, as they walked back from a private picnic held in a small glade by one of the gurgling streams deep within the estate's woods, they noticed a small convoy of ornate autocars parked by the mansion's front entrance, complete with rider escort.

  Someone important was visiting.

  They looked at each other, smiled, and shrugged. None of their business. David had them take a detour and avoided having to interact with anyone, heading straight back to their guest house, where they remained for the rest of the day, only coming out in the evening for a short walk under the stars.

  Early next morning, Isaac showed up at their door, letting them know that the requested ingredients had arrived.

  Niala dropped everything and pushed David out the door, instructing Isaac to lead them back to the lab, all the while marching ahead of him. The heir had to redirect her a few times, but they eventually made it, kicking out the alchemist once more.

  The ingredients were waiting for her, in a small satchel resting on a table. Isaac told them a pair of guards would be posted outside, and to let them know once they were ready to make their way to his father's bedroom.

  Isaac also informed them that one of Jacob's cousins, Regis Wardenfel, had arrived yesterday. The man should be unaware of Jacob's exact ailment, only knowing that he was resting due to his health, and instructed them to not reveal anything, at least until the potions had been brewed and administered.

  He then left them to their devices. Niala got started right away, parsing out the ingredients, reviewing which ones had been acquired, and was pleasantly surprised when she noticed that every group she had asked for were present.

  David pointed out that this was the Wardenfel family; getting a few weeds wasn't going to be a challenge.

  She looked up at him, glaring, before returning to her preparations, muttering something under her breath.

  David wasn't certain, but he thought he'd heard “blue itchy skin”.

  He shook his head and convinced himself it had been something else.

  It had to be, right?

  Regis walked down the corridor, forcing his steps to remain sedate, toward where his target was, according to the maid he'd “chatted up”. He had been blessed with a pretty face and a likable voice, and they would forever be his most powerful tools.

  Although, the forever might be shorter than he'd like, given where he was right now. Torsteel had better be a man of his word and shield him from the main family's reprisals, or he'd make sure they would both bleed in the pits.

  Seriously, what kind of madman went up against the main family? Hadn't he heard of what happened to the last person who made a play for the boy?

  Saint's ass! If he hadn't owed the man a small fortune, and if he hadn't been involved in the coup's planning... pits, how had Torsteel even found out about the poisoning?

  He sighed internally. No matter. After this, his debt would be cleared, and the incriminating documents would be in his hands, to be burned right away.

  As he neared the alchemy lab, he palmed a few small glass spheres, each filled with a grey-green liquid, hiding them in his hand. He walked up to the two guards, introduced himself, and had to begin playing the “I'm a noble” cards, as these two were the infuriatingly devout kind of guards who followed instructions, with the instructions being to not let anyone in.

  He started by reminding them of who he was, moved on to dropping insinuations that he was not to be denied, before stepping up to veiled threats, all the while keeping up his act of the spoiled noble that was throwing a tantrum. It wouldn't do to appear too invested, after all. He was simply curious, wanted to see, and, just as with young children, being told no was enough to make him want it even more.

  In the end, the understated threat of a spurned Wardenfel carried more weight than their dedication, and they let him in.

  He walked in to see the catkin, manipulating some flasks and herbs, and who had to be David standing close to her. Both of them were wearing filtering masks. Smart, but he'd planned for this. The man turned toward him, immediately on guard. As he should be, since the guards had been told to not let anybody in.

  The man's voice was hard and bore no room for discussion, like trying to walk through a wall of solid stone.

  “Get out.” He commanded.

  Regis put up his most amiable smile and raised his hands at waist level. “I know, I know! Nobody was supposed to come in, but you see, I'm an alchemical hobbyist, and I was told someone of great skills was brewing right now. I begged and begged, and they allowed me to spectate. I'm Regis Wardenfel, by the way. A distant cousin of the Patriarch. I'm not entirely intruding, see?” He offered.

  The man, David, wasn't sold, though the catkin barely threw him a glance, instead continuing on her brewing. He took a few steps toward Regis. “I said, get out. I don't care who you are.”

  Quite the guard dog. Well, it didn't really matter. As long as they stayed close to each other, he only needed an instant of distraction. Unfortunately for them, Regis was very good at that. He took a few steps closer, but not too close...

  He feigned interest in something the girl was doing, craning his neck to look around the large man blocking his line of sight. “Oh, are those Flying Frivoles? I haven't seen any in a good long while. Aren't they used in antivenoms?”

  The girl, Niala, glanced at David, who returned the glance, looking away from the intruder for a fraction of a second.

  Regis cracked a smile, whipping his hand forward at the same time and letting the spheres fly free.

  By the time David had snapped his head back toward the sudden movement, it was too late.

  The spheres shattered and crackled, releasing puffs of smoke around the two of them. The catkin barely managed to let go of whatever she had in her hands before falling limp to the floor.

  The man... flashed blue, like a fire trying to catch, stumbling in place.

  Regis frowned. Tough bastard. He retrieved a few more glass spheres and threw them his way.

  The man still managed to take a few steps toward him. For an instant, he feared his knockout gas wouldn't work, but the man's knee gave, and he splayed to the floor face-first.

  People often thought that breathing in fumes was the way, but filtering masks were a thing. Something that acted through the skin might be harder and costlier to make, but it certainly had its uses.

  He hadn't been lying after all. He was an alchemy hobbyist, just, more interested in the practical applications, such as poisons and gases.

  Time for part two.

  He let out a yell and made for the door, banging on it.

  The guards opened, seeing the noble's panicked face, the smoke, and the two limp bodies. Their heads swivelled back to Regis, questions plain on their face.

  “Something went wrong during the girl's brewing! It made a big puff of smoke, and they lost consciousness! Hurry! Help me ventilate the room and get them outside!”

  The guards looked at each other and nodded, scrambling toward the large windows and opening them fully, turning on the evacuating fans.

  Regis made a show of waiting for the fumes to disperse, even though this particular recipe of gas lost all potency after a few seconds.

  Soon, the guards and he were dragging the two comatose targets out through the side door, resting them on the lawn.

  One of the guards turned toward him. “My Lord, I will go fetch the healer and resident alchemist. Please stay here with my colleague.”

  Regist nodded and waited just long enough for the guard to turn around before throwing two more glass spheres at the two of them. They were out and down on the grass in seconds.

  “Come out now,” Regis called out.

  A man in leather armour peeked around the outside corner of the manor. Seeing the four figures on the ground, he walked over.

  Regis watched the man approach. “Grif, how good to see you. Take the man, I'll get the girl. Is the autocar ready?”

  Grif looked at the large man and grimaced, turning his head toward the noble and nodding. “Yes, my Lord. It is just around the corner, ready to go.”

  “Good, let's get to it then. As usual, time is of the essence.”

  Within half a minute, David and Niala had been loaded into the autocar.

  A minute later, the vehicle was exiting through one of the secondary gates, where Regis had bribed the guards to let his autocar through.

  It was another quarter bell before the kidnapping was noticed back at the manor.