“I’ll have you know that I had to call all hands on deck for your project here,” Ikrele grumbled, smoothing a hand over a polished silver breastplate. “Well, the ones left, anyway.”

“I appreciate your attentiveness to my commission,” Cailu replied. He leaned over the counter, inspecting the matching gauntlets while he compared them to Ceres’ measurements listed in the iPaw. They seemed so small and delicate when held against the metal plates around his own forearms. “You followed my instructions exactly?”

Ikrele narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Not a whisker out of place, king killer.”

Cailu frowned. “Typically, artisans will flatter their clients if they wish to receive a gratuity.” He let the gauntlet rest near its breastplate and moved to inspect Matt’s armor.

Even he had to admit the craftsmanship on each piece was immaculate. Not a single stitch skipped or loose seam. The plate was hammered and polished to perfection. Every material used would have cost a fortune in Nyarlothep.

Ikrele barked a laugh. “I doubt me or any of the girls here could sweet talk those extra Bells out of your pack, Cailu. You aren’t that kind of person.”

“And you presume to know what kind of person I am?” Cailu didn’t bother to meet her gaze.

She scratched her head just behind the ear and stared him down with a wry, toothy grin. “You and me have been stuck in this world for a long time. It’s written all over your face. You’re out of patience for this shit. Just like I am.”

“Perhaps.” Cailu worked to keep his tone even.

“Hey. Look. It wouldn’t kill you to loosen up a little,” Ikrele said, lifting Cannoli’s dress and folding it with expert hands and perfect creases. “Life’s too short.”

And yet it takes so long. “Your advice is… noted.”

“Good enough.” Ikrele rolled her eyes and moved on to the next dress—Ravyn’s—folding it with the same level of care. “Get your Bells out, and I’ll get these packed up.”

As he counted the hefty sum where Ikrele could clearly watch, her words plagued him.

When had he lost his ability to maintain a neutral expression?

----------------------------------------

After asking one First Shell resident and two in the second, Cailu found Matt in a building thick with alchemic haze. The bitter smell of desert opals wafted from the common room, where Matt and the young woman who had taken in Ceres and Lara—Melly, if memory served—worked at a narrow table with a dozen jars and bottles framing its surface.

Melly murmured something as she sliced open another desert opal with deft fingers, and Matt chuckled.

Matt looked up with Cailu's footsteps, and his smile faltered. “Hey, Cailu.”

Melly's eyes darted to Cailu's face, and her ears flattened against her head. She avoided his gaze and offered him a quick bow.

“Good evening, Matt.” Cailu shifted the bundles of armor under his arm. Matt glanced at them curiously but remained silent. “Practicing [Alchemy] is an excellent use of your time.”

Matt set his jaw. “Thanks. Melly's a great teacher.”

Melly hummed an unintelligible reply.

“What did you need, Cailu?” Matt asked, his words sharp. “Another fun-filled family dinner?”

Cailu shook his head. “I understand that your situation is turbulent—”

Matt sputtered a short, incredulous laugh.

“—However, we should leave tomorrow at first light,” Cailu finished, ignoring Matt's response. It will hurt no matter how long we delay our departure.

Setting his knife aside, Matt laid his hands on the table, balling them into fists. He rocked on the balls of his feet, then nodded. “Sure. If you say so.”

“I also need you to disperse these amongst your Party.” Cailu moved a series of flasks aside, clearing enough room on the table for all five packages.

Matt raised an eyebrow. “What are they?”

“Armor for you, Keke, Ceres, Ravyn, and Cannoli.” Cailu lifted the lid on the box containing Matt’s. “It will last you well into your Second Classes.”

Matt blinked. His attention flickered to the cloth in Cailu’s hands, then back to Cailu’s face. “I don’t have the Bells for all of that.”

“I know. Which is why I paid for it,” Cailu continued slowly. “I task you with having new weapons crafted for all of them as soon as possible.”

“I don’t want to owe you anything, Cailu,” Matt snapped. “Shit’s hard enough as it is.”

Cailu covered the package and drummed his fingers across the top. “The only repayment I need is for you to stay alive.”

Matt’s expression darkened, and they stared each other down in tense silence.

“U-um, excuse me for asking,” Melly murmured, then pointed to the boxes. “B-but, if Matt didn’t know about this, how did you know their measurements?”

Matt shook his head. “That’s true. Is this going to fit?”

Cailu sighed. Perhaps you should take the time to browse your iPaw, boy. “When an armorer or tailor fits you or any members of your Party, the measurements are logged in your [Equipment] screen.”

“Is that a ‘Second Class only’ thing?” Matt asked.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“No. However, viewing another man’s information and Party statistics is. Ai can guide you to the correct window.” Cailu folded his arms over his chest. “I digress. You may spend your night—” he glanced at Melly, “—doing whatever you please. Be ready to leave in the morning.”

Melly turned a furious shade of red and ducked her head, hiding her face behind her hair.

Matt lay a hand on Melly’s shoulder and glowered at Cailu. “Will you ever stop looking at them like mindless pieces of meat?”

Cailu frowned. “You misunderstand—”

“No, Cailu. The only thing I don’t understand is how Naeemah put up with you for so long,” Matt growled.

Anger bubbled in Cailu’s chest, and heat consumed his throat. “Matt, you do not—”

“Thanks for the armor. I’ll make sure my girls get it,” Matt interrupted. “Come on, Melly. We need more supplies.” He turned his back on Cailu and marched down the hallway.

“Okay,” Melly squeaked.

“Matt!” Cailu barked.

Matt clasped both hands into fists on either side of his head and raised his middle fingers.

What is this, now? More nonsense from Matt’s previous world, surely.

With a quick bow to Cailu, Melly said, “I’m sorry. Excuse me,” and scuttled away to join Matt.

Regaining his composure, Cailu ran a hand through his hair and exited the dwelling.

Matt seemed consumed by attachment to any catgirl he encountered. Even Yomi, who had so profoundly betrayed him, fell beneath his protection.

Why? Why cling to such otiose idealisms that would only end in grief?

He reached into his [Cat Pack], touching the drawing of Naeemah that Tristan had given him.

But then, do I deserve to question him?

Staring into the afternoon sun, he considered his final tasks before he could consider them ready to leave.

Tristan would be easily found within the citadel or in the dining hall at supper time. Cailu could warn him to be ready soon enough and find any final possible leads on Magni’s ‘book.’

He pulled the drawing free, studying the dark, judgmental gaze that stared back.

There was one other person he needed to speak with before their departure.

----------------------------------------

As soon as Cailu knocked on the polished wooden doors, his heart sped. He cursed under his breath.

“Come in,” Naeemah called.

Cailu pressed against the door and stepped inside.

The twin sofas had been pushed to the right to make way for a gilded writing desk. Leather tomes were splayed open across the desk’s surface while Naeemah perched at the center, comparing the page her quill was posed over to the others. She glanced up when Cailu entered, then dropped her gaze to continue her work.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Cailu said, closing the door behind him. “I know we have been… distant these last few days.”

“Did you come to tell me you’re leaving?” Naeemah asked, eyes still fixated on the book. “You have my blessing.”

Cailu’s chest tightened with her facile dismissal. This was the kind of treatment he expected from Nehalennia and her court. Not Naeemah.

Naeemah has tried to reach out, and I have struck her down each and every time. This is the treatment I deserve.

Cailu knew he should leave it at that. A short, simple parting between them ensured their safety and his continuous protection of Nyarlea.

But this is not how I want to leave you…

I… don’t want to leave you, Naeemah.

It took five steps to close the distance. Five steps that conveyed more than words.

Naeemah carefully laid her quill beside the book, and with an unsteady hand, Cailu twined his fingers with hers.

She studied their clasped hands, then whispered, “Cailu, what are you afraid of?”

Cailu hesitated. “When you first asked me that question, I thought my answer was you, Naeemah.” He focused on an empty page, letting his honesty spill free. “I find that, in truth, it is not you I fear. It is me.”

Naeemah rose to her feet, black silks shifting like the sands around her ankles and the tiny medallions on her top clinking together. She leveled his gaze, harnessing the same intense pride he’d always known in her. “Why?”

The answer was simple, yet caught in his throat. An admission that could destroy them both. The last thing he wanted was to patronize her, but like as not, his words and thoughts held an immense amount of sway in this world.

Naeemah lifted her hand, laying her palm against his chin before stroking the line of his cheek with her thumb. “Tell me why.”

Her close proximity and intense gaze tore down the fortress he’d constructed around his heart brick by brick. “I am afraid of the end, Naeemah. Of being unable to uphold my duties or find satisfaction in this world anymore. I find that I can no longer hide my emotions or reactions from others.” He leaned into her touch, relishing her cool skin on his face. “I can no longer hide how I feel for you.”

“In this, you are not alone.” Naeemah squeezed their entwined hands. “Saoirse be damned, Cailu. I love you.”

“Those are words that will kill us both” Cailu tilted his forehead forward, touching hers. I shouldn’t…

“All our years together, and you believe I would let our conversation escape these walls?” She drew her hand away, then snaked her arms around his neck as she leaned her lithe body against his.

We shouldn’t…

“Walls have eyes and ears, Naeemah. You know this as well as I.” The scent of her was intoxicating. Logic warred with longing. No matter how loud the warning, he couldn’t push her away.

“Mhm,” she hummed, looking up at him.

There are people in this world that care about you.

Cailu kissed Naeemah before he could second-guess himself. She immediately reciprocated, her tongue dancing between his lips and her tail curling around his thigh. It was a needy embrace that continually fed into one another like timber to a fire. His heart raced, and his skin was alight with the taste of her. He’d nearly forgotten how such a genuine connection could feel.

Naeemah pulled away with a gasp and leaned her forehead against his chest. With a giggle entirely unlike her, she said, “I can’t have a kitten. Not right now.”

“Thank goodness kissing is chaste,” he quipped, stroking a hand through her hair.

“We both know where this leads,” Naeemah murmured.

Cailu tipped her chin up, searching her face. Her gaze glittered with worry. “Then allow me to return when you are ready. Or, perhaps, before then. When I am ready.”

Surprise replaced the concern in her eyes. “Cailu…”

“Only if you still desire it,” Cailu added. “I understand I have not made this easy.”

“That’s just your nature,” she teased. “Of course I still want you here.”

“Then it is settled.” The tenderness in their touch felt foreign and unpracticed but not unwelcome. “If another man like Magni appears, I give you permission to dispatch him. I will put it in writing if I must.”

Her laugh was like music to his ears. “You have my word.”

“And you my trust.” Cailu’s yearning for her kiss prodded at his heart. The taste of her lingered on his tongue. He pictured her in their many shared baths, dressed in nothing but steam. His hands slid to her bare waist, and he memorized the feel of her skin. The sight of Naeemah’s breaths speeding with the rise and fall of her chest made it nigh impossible to stop there. “I will miss you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she breathed.

Cailu chanced one last kiss, his heartbeat throbbing against his skin. He broke away before it escalated to a stage they would both regret.

She understood the same, withdrawing her arms and taking a seat at her desk. A pink flush hued her cheeks, and a knowing smile played at her lips. “Write to me?”

“Of course.” Cailu straightened his hair and tunic, then moved to leave. With one last look at Naeemah, he closed the door to her room.

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