Chapter Twenty-Six

I walk into the dilapidated structure that once served as a temple for Selene and Sol, now serving as Cyrus’ and his followers’ hideout. The roof has collapsed with age and winter storms. Any furniture remaining has rotted, and been rendered useless. Nature has reclaimed this territory; Wild plants have grown between the gaps in the walls and the cracks in the stone floor, moss covers any surface hidden in the shadows, small rodents roam freely in search of food, and birds nest in the highest corners of the buildings.

A room that I assume was a priest’s office has been reserved for me to do my work, and I enter it, taking a rag and bowl of water with me. I set them on the only piece of furniture in the room that looks stable; a desk that takes up half the space, with many drawers, rusty metal knobs, and scratches from nervous fidgeting over the work surface. Why a priest would be so nervous, I had no idea, but I wonder if it had anything to do with the empty vials I found in the desk drawer.

“Lou, are you alright?” Asks Cyrus.

He enters the small room, and struggles to get past me so the door can be forced shut on its rusty hinges.

“Did you forget how to knock?” I ask, irritably, wiping the blood off my fingernails with a damp rag.

“I’ll take care of him... the one that hurt you.”

“His name is Bastian, in case you’re wondering,” I say, curtly.

“Right. I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“It’s fine. I guess to your group, I look just like any other human.”

I straighten my hair in the silver tray I’m using as a mirror, trying my best to ignore the fresh black eye that adorns my face, quickly giving up. I’d need a mask to hide it. I pull the sleeves of my tunic over my bruised wrists, and the scratched flesh of my arms.

“Lucien is going to get upset if he sees any of these marks,” he says, taking a small jar off a shelf that’s filled with a strong healing salve.

“You can put that down. I’ve already put some on. It’s going to take some days to heal no matter what I do.”

“You don’t have anything to put over it?”

“Yes, let me get an eye patch, or wrap my whole head and arms in bandages. That won’t look suspicious at all.”

“How much damage did he do?” He asks, suddenly panicked.

I turn to face him, and his mouth falls open. I lift my sleeves, and hold out my wrists to him. His eyes open wide.

“That looks bad,” he whispers. “They didn’t-”

“No, they didn't, but these bruises are going to be difficult to hide. What should I tell Lucien this time? I fell? I got mugged again? I was kidnapped?”

“I’ll go with you. I’ll tell him you were trying to protect me.”

I huff, and turn back towards the silver tray. “And when he asks why I was with you, and why you didn’t protect me, what will you say, then?”

He falls silent for a moment. “He worries about you.”

“He worries about you, too, idiot.”

“We’ll say we ran into each other, doesn’t matter where, and we were taken by surprise by one of the Guardians that recognized me.”

“Ha! He’s going to be angry with you.”

“He’s already angry with me,” he scoffs..

“He’s always angry with you these days, it seems. Can’t you do anything right for once?”

“I don’t know why he won’t just leave. I keep telling him to return to the Grove, and I’ll find him there.”

“He’s an idiot, too, and he loves you.”

Cyrus sighs wearily, and presses a rag to my forehead, which is still covered in dried blood. “Not as much as he loves you.”

I wince, the wound on my head stinging when he presses a rag to it.

“Why didn’t you tell Bastian you were part of the rebellion?”

“I thought he, and the rest of his entourage, would recognize me from the numerous times I tended to their wounds, but that didn’t seem to stop them. They didn’t believe me.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“Yes, give them a light slap on the wrist, and send them off to bed without dinner. That’ll teach time.”

“Luna,” he says, irritably, his lip twitching, struggling to hold back one of his outbursts.

“Sorry. In any case, at least your supplies got here faster, though they dropped some valuable potions. It’s going to take me some time to replace them.”

“Why don’t you take several weeks for yourself to recover? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the potions, and the supplies.”

“You’re going to do it?” I say, doubtfully. “How nice and noble of you.”

“I’ll have Terra deal with it,” he admits.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll leave her a list of supplies. She’s better at brewing than you are, at least.”

“Thank you, truly. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

“I’ll believe you when you kick Bastian’s ass. Or let me do it. He’s weak.”

“He barely broke a sweat doing any of that to you,” he scoffs.

“Cyrus-”

“I said I’d deal with him, okay?”

“You told him who I was, and he laughed, Cyrus! I’m not safe here.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a weary groan. “You’re right. I’ll find a better place to put you.”

I glare at him. “You’re their leader, Cyrus. Talk to them. At the very least, set some boundaries. They shouldn’t be roaming the city trying to find their next target. They’re making all of you look like a band of common thieves.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Luna, women always want to hear they’re right. Why do you think I only date men?”

“Because there’s no woman alive who would put up with you like Lucien does!”

“Let’s get you back to the Academy.”

“Or really, anyone else. So you really should try harder in your relationship with him, or you’re going to wind up thousands of years old, and alone.”

He grabs the scruff of my shirt, and pulls me out of my chair. “Now. Let’s go.”

“Luna, what the hell happened to your face?” Screams Lucien.

“A small scuffle.”

He looks me over several times, his face growing with worry.

“I ran into Cyrus-”

“CYRUS?” He screams. “What did he do this time?”

“It wasn’t his fault! I was talking to him behind a stall at the market, and one of the Guardians recognized him. I was trying to help him. There were several of them.”

“Guardians? Luna, what the hell were you thinking trying to fight them off? You should have run!”

“I couldn’t just leave him there. They were going to kill him.”

Lucien takes my chin, turning me every which way with a look of pity in his eyes. “Did you put anything on it?”

“Yes, it’s fine. It’ll take a few days to heal, but it’s fine. It hardly hurts.”

“Seriously, Luna?” He tuts. “It looks really painful.”

He places a finger gingerly on my cheek, making me wince.

“I’m serious, Luce. Stop worrying. It’s not a good look on you. You’re going to get wrinkles,” I say, rubbing the skin between his eyebrows until his expression softens.

He pulls me into his arms, and squeezes me tightly. His body trembles.

“Lucien, I’m fine,” I coo, rubbing his back, when he breaks out into a sob.

“I can’t lose you, Lune. Whatever it is that you’re doing for Cyrus, please stop.”

“I can’t, Lucien. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to get-”

“Excuse me,” a voice calls from the front of the shop. “Is anyone here?”

Lucien vanishes in a puff of curling mist.

“I’ll be there in just a moment,” I call out, quickly putting on my apron, and stepping into the front of the shop. “Did you find everything you needed?”

A young girl stands shyly at the counter with several potions, and a bottle of perfume. She nods, and nervously plays with the ends of her hair, hardly noticing my offensive appearance.

“That’ll be three silver.”

“O-Oh!” She says, nervously, setting aside the bottle of perfume. “I... I’ll leave this one, then.”

“Since you purchased many other potions, I can give you one of our smaller vials free of charge,” I say, with a wink.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Let me fetch it for you from the back.”

I return with the small vial, and the girl shyly takes her things, and places them in her bag. She gives me a small nod just before exiting, and I can hear her break into a fit of giggles just before the shop door closes behind her.

When Lucien doesn’t reappear immediately, I enter the supply closet, finding him curled up in the farthest corner, his head tucked into his knees.

“Lucien?” I call. “Are you alright?”

“I didn’t... I didn’t hear her.”

“You were distracted.”

“Sol’s Light, Luna! I didn’t hear her. What if that had been one of the Guardians? Or a light elf?”

“You have a safe place prepared for you to travel to in case you ever get caught, don’t you? We’ve prepared for this.”

“That’s not the point, Lune!” He shouts, getting to his feet.

“Then what’s your point, Luce? Enlighten me!”

“You and Cyrus are keeping secrets from me, and I’m losing my senses,” he says, gripping my shoulders tightly.

“Cyrus isn’t keeping any secrets from you,” I say, forcing his hands away.

“How do you know that? Does he talk to you? He’s certainly not talking to me!”

“You’re getting paranoid, Luce,” I say, my patience waning.

“Am I?” He asks, his eyes wide. “What are you doing with Cyrus? Just running into him? Getting yourself hurt! You don’t even care about him.”

“It’s... confidential,” I say, hesitantly. “And I do care about him, because you care about him. Who else is going to ruin your life on a regular basis?”

“You joined them, didn’t you? The rebellion? Those Guardians hurt you while you were doing some sort of task for Cyrus!”

He cups my face, and his eyes search mine frantically.

“No! It wasn’t the Guardians,” I say, pushing him away.

“Then who, Luna?” He says, approaching me again, hesitantly. “I’ll find them, and I’ll make sure they never touch you again!”

“It was just some idiot thugs. I was distracted, and didn’t see them coming. It won’t happen again,” I say, taking his hand. “I swear it. This is nothing compared to what I did to them.They looked worse than I did by the time I got through with them.”

“Truly?”

“No, but that’s what you want to hear.”

“I hate you,” he says bitterly.

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“It won’t happen again, I swear.”

“Damn the both of you,” he mutters, swinging the supply closet door open so hard, it slams against the wall, shaking the shelves.

Lucien has found peace in the few weeks I’ve taken away from ‘Selene’s Blessing’, the name Cyrus’ rebel group has taken for themselves. However, I still feel uneasy each time I find Cyrus sitting at the work table of the shop, like now, when I thought he and Lucien were taking time apart again.

“Morning,” I greet, not awake enough to handle any of their drama yet.

“Sorry, I’ll be gone shortly,” he responds, his voice gruff.

“No, please. Make yourself at home. I’m going to make some tea, would you like some?”

“No, thank you,” he sighs, getting to his feet. “I was just leaving.”

“Don’t let me chase you away,” I say, politely.

“I’ve been down here all night. You’ll not be chasing me away. I simply need rest.”

“Kicked out of bed?”

He gives me a weary smile. “He wouldn’t even allow me upstairs.”

I suck air through my teeth, and give him a pained look. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I told him I wasn’t going to promise to be here for his birthday celebration tonight, because I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“You’re dumber than you look,” I tsk.

He scowls. “Thanks for that.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Does it look like there’s anywhere to sleep down here?” He gestures around the room.

“Well, for future reference, there’s a sleeping pack in the supply closet. It’s beneath the floorboards. You can use it, if you promise to put it back in its proper place. Tea?”

“Yes, please,” he says, slumping down into a seat.

“I’m sure he’ll come down soon enough to apologize. He always does.”

“How’s-”

I turn quickly, and press a finger to my lips, holding my hands out to him so he can see the faded bruises on my wrists. He touches them gently, and searches my face for signs of pain.

“Jasmine? Lavender? I think we have some special Red Moon Blossom tea, if you want to try it. Master Eaimer sent some honey as well.”

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Luna.”

“No problem. You look dreadful, by the way. You should wash up. There’s a washroom outside. We use it to rinse off the cauldrons, but it should be sufficient enough.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Leave your garments outside the door. I’ll wash them.”

“No, that’s not-”

“Don’t argue with me. You smell like you’ve rolled around cow dung while it was raining. You probably can’t even smell yourself because your nose hairs have burned away. I bet that was why Lucien wouldn’t let you up. He could probably smell you the moment you snuck into the shop.”

“Okay. I already agreed to bathe. You need not insult me further.”

“I’ll bring you your tea. Hurry up. I hear Lucien pacing upstairs. Don’t let him see you like this.”

“Thanks,” he says, ducking out the door.

“Don’t mention it. Ever. I mean it.”

Lucien appears before me the moment he’s gone.

“He’s washing outside,” I say.

“I don’t care,” says Lucien, curtly, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout.

“I feel like I’m looking at the splitting image of myself when I was a teenager. Except I was less good-looking, and had much less hair.”

His arms fall to his sides. “I’m not-”

“You are behaving quite childishly. Tea?” I narrow my eyes on him.

“Please.”

“Whoa!” I shout, when Lucien is about to sit in Cyrus’ seat. “I wouldn’t. That chair needs to be deeply sanitized.”

Lucien looks down at the seat, then backs away from it, and sits in another. “Do you think he’s sleeping outside again?”

“Outside? In a trash pit? In a stable? Who knows? I just know his clothes need washing, or he’s not coming back inside.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Bring lots of soap, and get the sewing kit.”

“Right.”

“And a nose plug.”

“Wha-”

“And smelling salts.”

“Look, if I was going to get caught in here with the fumes of a potion, it might as well be the soothing one,” I say, feeling lightheaded and inexplicably calm.

The room is foggy, and I can barely make out the light pouring in through the window on the far wall.

“I agree,” says Lucien, with a wide grin on his face. “But we really should open the windows now. I think those people are gone, and I am not feeling very well.”

“Right,” I state, struggling to my feet, my limbs feeling like lead weights. “Help me. I’m probably too relaxed.”

“Right,” he staggers to his feet. “I’ll get the door.”

He drags his feet across the shop, and when he reaches the door, he slumps over.

“Gods, it’s like drunkenness, and having no strength,” he says lazily, pretending to sob as he struggles to lift his arms up to the door handle.

“It’s all in your head,” I say, fighting the heaviness in my limbs, so that I can climb up on a counter.

Lucien groans again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. The world moves in slow motion as I pull open the high windows, and lose my balance, slipping off the counter. As I blink, I realize I’m falling backwards. The window frame slips from my fingers, and I feel weightless. My heart leaps out of my chest in a single beat, followed by the sound of screaming which I realize is coming from my own mouth. My descent then comes to an abrupt stop. I hear the thud as Lucien’s knees hit the stone beneath us. I feel his hand cushion my head’s impact against the ground.

He grunts, and bites his lip to hold back a painful cry. I’m stunned, and it takes me several moments to catch up with the regular flow of time.

“Are you okay, Lucien?”

I reflexively reach for his face, and cup his cheek to wipe the stream of tears now forming.

“Yes,” he strains. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

I get to my feet, and hold out a hand to him. He stumbles forward, knocking me against the table. I cast a quick spell to cushion our fall back to the ground.

“Sweet Gaia, that hurts,” he clutches his knees.

“We need some fresh air to get this potion out of our systems. I’m going to go... crawl to the door and open it.”

He nods at me from his curled up position on the ground. I make my way across the floor, my skirt getting scuffed and snagged on the rough surface.

“We really should get some carpets,” I groan.

“Didn’t I mention that the first time we came here?”

“I don’t remember,” I grunt, reaching for the door handle, and pushing my weight against the door so that it swings open.

The night air fills my lungs, and I take several deep breaths of it. The world stops pulsing, and I can finally stand without having to fight my own body for control. I help Lucien limp to the door, dragging a chair behind me so that he can fall into it.

“I think I’d rather get caught in the fumes of a Clairvoyance potion, than go through that again,” I comment.

He winces, and rearranges himself in the chair.

“I’ll get the healing salve.”

“And a healing potion,” he calls out when I rush out of the room.

“Yes,” I say, returning, then rushing out again to take a health potion off the shelf.

When I return a second time, I kneel at his feet, and begin to rub medicine gently over his knees. He grimaces each time I touch him.

“Sorry, I’m almost done,” I say, softly.

“Yes, that’s fine. I’m fine,” he hisses.

“Thank you... for catching me.”

“Please don’t do that again, ever. Get the ladder, or a chair, or a stool. Anything. You could even stand on me.”

“Sorry, you’re right. That was stupid.”

He falls to the floor, and presses my head to his chest, squeezing me tightly. I take in several deep breaths of his smell; smoke, sage, and healing salve.

“Lucien,” I laugh, through my tears. “We’re going to have to start over. You’ve got the salve all over your robes.”

I bury my face in his shoulder.

“Gods, I thought I was going to lose you,” he says, his face pressed to my shoulder.

“I’m fine, Lucien. You caught me.”

He kisses the top of my head several times, then returns to squeezing me, rocking us back and forth in an attempt to smooth me. He repeats this several times until my heart rate has finally calmed, and only then he eases his hold, and I pull away from him slowly.

“Oh,” I groan, noticing my tears on his shoulder. “I’ve ruined your robes. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he laughs, wiping some of my tears with his sleeve. “It’s just silk.”

I stand, and help him back into his seat.

“I’ll get a clean rag, and wash that up,” I point to his knees. “Finish off your healing potion. Every last drop.”

“Agh, gods, this is awful,” cries Lucien, taking a seat.

“You should be back to normal in a couple of days... unless you broke something.”

“They’re black. I certainly broke something.”

“Not necessarily. Will you be able to teleport upstairs?”

“It’s fine. I can get some work done. You’ll just have to fetch me things.”

“Right. Let’s see... we have to prepare some jars of moonlit quartz, and fifteen jars of garlic... ginger... rosemary, peppermint and thyme? What on earth?”

“Let me see that,” he says, reaching out.

I hand him the list, and he reads it carefully. “It’s actually twenty five jars.”

“What is she going to do with all of that?”

“Could it be that there's an illness spreading?”

“I hope not.”

“Well, in any case, let’s get started.”

“I smell like... if you put me outside in the hot sun, I would make a very tasty dish of slow roasted meat,” laughs Lucien, inhaling deeply the smell of his hands.

“I’ll get the rag,” I laugh. “Just one moment longer.”

“No, really. Take your time. I’m close to the fire, and my bruised knees have become quite tender and juicy.

I toss a rag at his face, and step outside to fetch water, scooping some up with a bowl from a barrel outside, and returning to him.

“Thank you,” he sings.

“You’re such a princess.”

“I’m not. Can you get me a fresh apron?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I curtsy, and fetch another apron for him from the supply closet.

When I return, he lifts his arms. I take his dirty apron, toss it into the laundry pile, and work the fresh one over his head.

“You’re just going to get this one dirty,” I complain.

“Tomorrow we’re doing laundry. I’d rather not dull my senses with that smell all day.”

“Right. Well, I guess I’ll get another. Would you like lunch?”

“Yes, please. Give me the next task, so we don’t waste any time.”

I help Lucien into his bed, and tuck him in. My cheeks are burning red, and his are the darkest I’d ever seen. I’d helped him wash, and got more than an eyeful. Not at all unpleasant, but quite awkward.

“Will that be all?” I ask him, unable to look him in the eye.

“I... need to remove my jewel- earrings. There’s a small leather pouch in that drawer,” he points.

I walk over to his dresser, and reach in.

“Ooooh, my! What’s this?” I tease, pulling out a piece of paper, along with his pouch.

“Lune!” He gasps, crawling to the edge of his bed.

I keep it just beyond his reach.

“Oh, Lucien! Is this a love letter from Cyrus?”

He slumps. “Sweet Selene, you scared me.”

“Oh?” I ask. “Do you have something more private hiding in this dresser?”

“I do, but now that I’m thinking clearly, you wouldn’t even be able to read it.”

“I really should learn. You should teach me.”

“Right, because you have no ulterior motives.”

I toss the pouch into his lap, and move a chair to his bedside. He flinches when I reach for him.

“I can do this. I only hurt my knees.”

“I fell on your hand. I have a very big head.”

“You do, but it doesn’t weigh much, because there’s nothing in it.”

“You couldn’t even help me with any of the cleaning. You couldn’t cast any spells. I know your hand is hurt.”

“‘Thank you for saving my life this morning, Lucien’,” he says, in a high pitched voice. “‘I owe you, but I’m going to complain about a little cleaning, even though you scrubbed all of the cauldrons with your good hand.’”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Sounds just like you, doesn’t it? Unappreciative.”

“‘I’m Lucien, and I’m going to boss Luna around all day, because I’m a beautiful princess,’” I say, with a deep voice, tossing my hair back dramatically.

“I am,” he huffs, sitting back, and crossing his arms across his chest. “Now, remove my jewels, peasant.”

I remove his earrings, and place the pouch on his dresser.

“How early should I get here tomorrow?” I ask, at the doorway after I’ve blown out the candle.

“Just a few minutes.”

“Alright, get some sleep.”

“Um... Luna,” he says, just before I shut the door.

“Did you need something?”

“I... love you. You’re a good f- You’re a good friend, Lune.”

“I love you, too, Luce. Good night.”

“I’m awake,” calls Lucien, when I step outside his door.

“Are you dressed?”

“No more free shows, I’m afraid,” he snickers.

“Oh, you!” I scold, stepping into his room. “Good. You managed to dress yourself.”

“Yes, I’m a big boy, but I’m afraid I still need help with my shoes.”

“I’ve got it,” I say, hurrying to his side.

When his shoes are properly buckled, I help him to his feet.

“Dammit, that hurts.”

We shadow jump downstairs, and he collapses into a chair, the feet of it outlined in temporary markings, so I know where to place it each night before leaving the shop.

“I heard you got hurt,” says Cyrus, sitting across the table from him.

“You hate me, Luna,” whispers Lucien, scowling at me.

“You didn’t lock the back door,” he responds.

“Tea?” I offer.

“Yes,” they both reply, irritably.

“You can’t walk for how long?” Seraphina cries out, staring at Lucien wide-eyed.

“Several months,” he grumbles. “I thought I was limited before. This is worse.”

“Arthur and I will help you when we have time,” she says, giving me a worried look. “Does Madam Lyra know?”

“Yes, she’s trying to find someone to help us, but she’s having trouble finding anyone who will work in a shop that’s rumored to have a dark elf working in it.”

“Speaking of which, we can check up on you in the night, if you need it.”

“I’m fine,” he says, quietly.

“That’d be nice, actually,” I say. “Cy... Cyrus is away for a while.”

“Oh, what happened?” She asks. “He didn’t get caught, did he?”

“No, but he almost did. He had to flee after they found his hideout. He didn’t tell us where he went,” explains Lucien.

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”

I scrub Lucien’s body down with a damp rag as he lies in bed face down. The sight of him no longer makes me blush, but my daydreams of him have become more vivid and detailed.

“Luna,” he groans into his pillow. “I think that cheek is clean now.”

I cackle. “Sorry, just being thorough.”

“You’re going to scrub it raw,” he laughs.

“Well, that means it’s time for lotion,” I say, smacking his behind lightly with my rag, making him flinch.

He laughs nervously. “I worry about my safety with you around.”

“As you should. You’re defenseless now.”

I rub his back with a mixture of scented oils, using some force to work out some knots.

“You have strong hands,” he moans.

“Is that good?”

“Yes,” He sighs into his pillow. “It’s wonderful.”

“Don’t get used to this.”

“Right,” he nods, relaxing beneath my touch.

“Tomorrow, I’ll work on your hair.”

“It’s fine, I can do it myself,” he groans.

After a few more minutes of kneading every abnormal lump in his back until it lies flat, I stop, feeling a soreness in my shoulders. He groans, then freezes.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” I ask.

“No,” he says, the tips of his ears becoming dark.

“Well, let’s get you dressed for bed.”

He buries his face into his pillow, remaining perfectly still. “Just... Give me a few minutes.”

“Fox used to like massages, too,” I whisper into his ear, with a giggle.

His ears become darker, and twitch.

“Just sit up and pull the sheet over yourself. I won’t look.”

I turn away, and hear him shift.

I whistle, and he gasps, frantically piling the covers higher over his waist.

“You hate me,” he whines.

“You can do this yourself, Lucien,” I say, handing him his ivory comb.

“I know. I just wondered how long it would take for you to realize my hands are fully functional.”

“I can barely think at all these days,” I yawn. “You keep me busy. The shop keeps me busy. My studies keep me busy.”

“Come, you’re tired,” he says, patting the spot next to him in bed. “Just shut your eyes for a few minutes.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I’ll wake you.”

“I’m not even clean.”

“Then wash up. I have a spare nightgown in that dresser.”

I jump when a voice calls out my name, just as I nearly pass out at the work table early in the morning.

“Cyrus?” I rub my eyes, thinking I’m hallucinating.

“Luna, are you okay?”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Didn’t sleep?”

“No, just so much work. I have to tend the shop alone due to Lucien’s injury. Madam Lyra can’t find any help, because no one wants to work here-”

“Lucien’s still hurt?”

“Yes, but he’s almost better. He injured his knees badly.”

“Can I see him?”

I shrug, and dismiss him with a wave of my hand. “Go, but be mindful, please?”

“‘Lord Raiden Tempest has declared Angelina Montclair return to the Dark Grove. Their three children will return with her...’” I take a bite of my apple, and stuff a pastry in Lucien’s mouth.

“This is getting dangerous.”

“You’re telling me. And you’re crippled. If someone comes here, you’re going to fall like a pile of bricks upstairs, and they’ll surely hear you.”

“No one’s going to know I’m here, because I’ve been trapped upstairs,” he whines. “I’m happy just to see this damn room.”

“Mhm,” I say, finishing off my apple so that I can tend to some people that have been scouring the shop shelves.

I wake up to the sound of creaking downstairs. I yelp when glance over at Lucien, and he’s already staring back at me with eyes wide open. His breathing is rapid as he watches the bedroom door.

“I’ll check downstairs,” I whisper.

He pulls me back down. We watch the door inch open. I reach around blindly, wrapping my fingers around the first thing I feel. It’s cold and smooth. A candleholder.

“You’ve got a strong swing,” Cyrus winces.

“I almost died from fright!” I scream. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you pick the lock again? I swear to Gaia if-”

“I could ask you the same thing! What are you doing in Lucien’s room?”

“I’ve been staying here. He’s hurt, and I’m so tired, I can’t even drag myself back to the Academy on weekends,” I scream, my voice cracking. “Madam Lyra is having trouble finding us help, while running her new shop on the other side of the city. I tried to help her find someone, but they know Lucien once worked here. Not to mention, you said you’d help me with him, and then disappeared!”

“Why were you in his bed, Luna?”

“Do you expect me to sleep on the sofa?”

“Why were you in his bed?” He asks, more sternly.

“Now you want to get jealous? After abandoning us for months?” I scream. “First you treat Lucien like he’s an inconvenience, then you get caught doing gods know what because you won’t tell us, and now you think you’re entitled to get jealous? Do me a favor, and find a tall cliff to leap from!”

Cyrus rises slowly from his seat, and glares at me, his breathing ragged. “Are you sleeping with Lucien?”

“I’m not fucking him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good. Stay away from him. He’s mine.”

My vision blurs from the anger bubbling over inside me.

“Be a dear, and tell Lucien I’ve gone to the market when you go up to see him. Don’t make any promises to him you have no intention of keeping, or I’ll find you, and I will kill you. If I see you again upon my return, you’re going to regret staying.”

“He said what?” Cries out Lucien.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine, Lune! He told you to stay away from me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Go to sleep, Lucien. I’m too tired to talk about this.”

“What did he think was happening?”

“He thinks we’re together, obviously.”

“Why on earth would he think that?”

“I was in your bed, Lucien! I told you it was a bad idea for me to stay.”

“My legs are broken. What could I even do?”

“I could still mount you.”

He gasps, and clutches his nightgown.

“I’m just pointing out that it’s a terrible argument to make.”

“I’m not going to ask why you were even thinking about that!”

“I’ve been wondering about how the two of you would... Oop!” I clamp my mouth.

“We haven’t been-“

“It’s none of my business. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I leave quickly before he can see the joy on my face.