The floor was strangely comfortable. Or maybe it was just that everything else felt distant, swimmy. Aisling hummed, trying to coax a stray lock of auburn hair into dancing like a conductor's baton. It wouldn't listen. Stubborn hair. Like people. Like him.
He's a sparkly spider, a thought drifted through the haze. Looks pretty, all charming smiles and sharp edges, but he just wants to wrap you up. And then… marry you? And have little spider-babies? Ugh. The humming stopped. That sounded sticky.
Footsteps. Heavy ones, then lighter, quicker ones. The bathroom door swung open like a stage curtain. Valaric. He looked like someone had just told him his favourite raven had eloped with a garden gnome. Which, honestly, wasn't that far-fetched around here.
Behind him came two shapes. One was a flash of dark hair and expensive cloth, a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes. Kylian. The sparkly spider. He looked annoyed, like her being drunk on the floor was a personal insult to his impeccable evening.
The other shape was quieter. Still. Like a shadow that watched. Cedric. He smelled faintly of old paper and something sharp, like frost. He just looked… dry. Like he'd seen stranger things this morning and found them equally tedious.
"What in the abyss is so urgent, Valaric," Kylian's voice cut through the room, sharp despite the charming tone. "Did Zharayah finally try to turn you into a chew toy?"
A chew toy? Valaric? He'd probably make a very squeaky one. Aisling giggled, or maybe it was just a hiccup.
Then Kylian's eyes landed on her. They narrowed. "Well, isn't this… a rather undignified position, witchling?"
Witchling. The word pricked, even through the haze. He said it like it was a small, annoying bug. She wasn't a bug. She was… she was… something. She wasn't sure what yet, but definitely not a bug.
Cedric, meanwhile, just stood there. His eyes, dark as polished stone, scanned the mess – Aisling on the floor, Valaric looking haunted, and Zharayah vibrating with pure, unadulterated fury. "You neglected to mention it was this particular flavour of urgent," he murmured, his voice flatter than old parchment.
Zharayah threw her hands on her hips, a picture of blazing anger. "Urgent? Oh, it's only your fiancée, Baron, currently incapacitated because you forced her into this marriage!" Her voice was a whipcrack. "A minor detail, I'm sure, compared to your precious gossip!"
Kylian's smile flickered, gone for just a second. He took a step closer, the air around him getting colder. "Forced? I offered Lady Aisling a means to save her family from ruin, to secure her brother's life. It was a choice, Zharayah, a very clear choice, and a generous one at that."
A choice? The word felt like a stone in Aisling's foggy mind. When the only other path was ruin and death… was that a choice? It felt more like… cornered. Trapped. The sparkly spider's web, indeed.
"A choice?" Zharayah scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt. "When one option means destitution and death for your loved ones, it's not a choice, Kylian. It's blackmail. And what's wrong is wrong, no matter how elegantly you try to paint it."
Valaric jumped in, looking worried. "And if Grandfather Draven finds her like this… He's not known for his leniency when it comes to 'public decorum'." A shiver went through the room at the name Draven. Even Aisling felt it – a sudden cold patch in the warm, hazy air. Grandfather Draven. A shadow that swallowed light. Unpredictable was putting it mildly. He was a storm, but one made of ice and silence.
Cedric adjusted his sleeve, calm as a stone in a river. "While your ethical dissections are always… stimulating, Lady Zharayah, Lord Valaric raises a pertinent point. The immediate crisis is preventing our future Lady Hawkrige from becoming the prime topic of horrified whispers for the next century. How did she become so… thoroughly indisposed?"
Zharayah sighed, her fire banking slightly. "She took a glass from a passing servant. I didn't see her grab it until she'd already drained half of it. It was bloodwine."
Kylian clutched his chest in mock horror, but his eyes were sharp. "Bloodwine? Zharayah, my dear, you allowed her to imbibe such a potent vintage? Our more… mortal guests usually approach it with the caution one reserves for dragon's breath, let alone my seemingly delicate fiancée!"
"I told you, I didn't see it!" Zharayah snapped back, frustrated. "She just snatched it and drank it down like it was water! What was I supposed to do, wrestle her to the floor in front of the entire assembly?"
Cedric rubbed his temples. His dark eyes looked far away. "The guests are deeply entrenched. Transporting her through the main hall is unthinkable." He paused, a stillness settling over him. "And the back exits are equally problematic. They lead directly into the family crypts and the catacombs. Navigating those shadowed passages, especially with a human like this, would undoubtedly draw the unwanted attention of Lord Draven's personal guards."
Crypts? Catacombs? Aisling shivered again. Dark, cold places where things slept but weren't truly gone. She didn't want to go there. She wanted… to float.
Kylian sauntered closer to her, a playful, dangerous look back in his eyes. He crouched down. His face, up close, was a little blurry, but the smile was distinct. Roguish. "Well, well, witchling," he purred, his voice low. "It seems you've managed to paint yourself into quite the charmingly problematic corner." His voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. "Or perhaps you've simply succumbed to the irresistible allure of Hawkrige hospitality?"
Irresistible allure? Was that what this was? A trap? She tried to braid her fingers together, her thoughts tangling like yarn. "Hawkrige 'spitality," she slurred, her voice thick. "Is like… like a very pretty, very sparkly spider. It looks lovely, but it wants to weave you into its web… and then make you marry it and have little spider-babies." She looked up at him, her eyes unfocused but bright. "Sticky."
Kylian just stared at her for a second, his smile freezing. Then, a polite but very firm rap sounded on the door.
"Zharayah? Valaric? Are you in there?" A gentle, melodic voice drifted through the wood. Celene. Mother. "What on earth are you two doing closeted away for so long? And have you seen Kylian, or Cedric? Grandfather is looking for them. And Aisling, I can't find her anywhere!"
Zharayah's eyes went wide. Genuine panic. "Oh, by the ancient moon, no. Not Mother. She absolutely cannot see Aisling like this. Grandfather would hear of it in seconds!"
Valaric practically threw himself against the door. "Darling mother!" he called out, his voice high and fake-cheerful. "Just, uh, catching up! Zharayah and I were having a… a very intense discussion. You know how we get. Deeply engrossed! Go on, we'll be out in a bit!"
Aisling heard a muffled sound from the other side of the door. Was that… giggling? "Making out, you mean?" Celene's voice was laced with pure skepticism. "Valaric, you and Zharayah are more likely to be hurling insults and enchanted teacups at each other than whispering sweet nothings behind closed doors. I can practically hear you all whispering now. What's going on?"
Valaric winced. "She heard us whispering!" he hissed.
Zharayah rolled her eyes. "Subtlety, Valaric, not your strong suit. 'Intense discussion'? She knows we'd rather debate the finer points of goblin etiquette than agree on the time of day."
Kylian ignored them, his blue eyes fixed on something far away for a second, then snapping back with a sudden, almost wild glint. He snapped his fingers. Click. A triumphant, wicked grin spread across his face. "I have an idea."
"No," Cedric said instantly. Flat. Like a door slamming shut. "Absolutely not. I unequivocally refuse."
Kylian spun on him, looking genuinely shocked. "Refuse? You haven't even heard my brilliant, life-saving, reputation-preserving plan!"
"I don't need to," Cedric replied, adjusting his sleeve again with unnerving calm. "Your ideas invariably fall into categories labelled 'reckless,' 'unnecessarily dramatic,' or 'likely to awaken things best left slumbering.' I have a deep and abiding affection for my current state of sanity."
"Valaric, Zharayah," Celene's voice was closer now, carrying a note of impatience that made the air feel tight. "You are behaving most suspiciously. Open this door at once."
"She's employing the Mother Voice!" Zharayah hissed, looking truly scared now. "We're doomed!"
"Well, if you hadn't told her we were making out," Valaric muttered under his breath. Zharayah shot him a glare that could melt stone.
Kylian's eyes darted to the doorknob. It seemed to tremble. "Mother will be through that door any second! And Valaric's 'making out' excuse has clearly backfired! She's even more suspicious now! Grandfather Draven will have our heads on platters, mine included, if Aisling is discovered like this!"
He turned back to Cedric, his charming veneer gone, replaced by a hard, desperate edge. "I'm going to use it," he stated. "My… other means. To transport her directly back to Rutherford Manor."
Cedric's onyx eyes, usually so still, flashed. A rare, dangerous intensity bloomed there. His voice dropped to a low, sibilant whisper that felt like ice on the back of Aisling's neck. "Are you certifiably insane, Kylian? We are not casually awakening that particular aspect of your being. Not here. Not for this. It's far too volatile, too unpredictable. We are not going to unleash Zurakai over a case of smuggled bloodwine!"
Zurakai. The name vibrated in the air, heavy and dark. Aisling felt a strange humming start deep in her bones, a resonance with the forbidden word. Her latent magic, usually quiet, stirred uncomfortably.
"Mother will be through that door any second!" Kylian urged again, desperation in his voice.
Cedric pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a slow, long breath, like a sigh of defeat. The image of Celene finding Aisling, followed by Draven's inevitable wrath… he clearly saw the horror. "Fine," he conceded, his voice tight with reluctance. "Just this once. And you ensure it is a precise, immediate transport. No grandstanding, no collateral damage, and certainly no lingering. But if Zurakai decides to stay for tea, you are explaining it to grandfather."
Kylian grinned, a flash of something wild and untamed lighting his eyes. It wasn't the sparkly spider anymore. It was… something else. Something older, sharper. "Wouldn't dream of anything less than perfect execution."
He turned back to Aisling. The hard edge softened, just a fraction. With a surprising gentleness, he scooped her up. One arm under her knees, one around her back. She was held against his chest. Warm. Solid.
She blinked up at him. His face was close. The blue of his eyes… it was changing. Darkening. Deepening into a molten, luminous gold. The edges of her vision seemed to ripple, like looking through heat. He seemed taller, broader, filling her sight. Dark lines, like writhing shadows, began to snake across his skin, pulsing with an eerie, wrong light.
A raw, primal power erupted, filling the small bathroom. It made the air crackle, like static electricity before a storm. The single candle flickered wildly, threatening to go out. Aisling felt the hum in her bones intensify, a vibrating tension that made her skin tingle. Valaric and Zharayah took instinctive steps back, their faces pale.
"Faster, Kylian!" Cedric's voice was strained, tight with urgency. "Keep it contained!" He could feel it too, the shift, the stirring of something ancient and formidable beneath Kylian's skin.
Kylian's hold on her tightened. Her drunken, bewildered gaze met his now entirely golden, inhuman eyes. There was a strange, terrifying beauty in his transforming face. Like a storm cloud, dark and powerful, streaked with lightning.
Just as the air grew thick with that potent, almost tangible power, just before the entity known as Zurakai could fully assert its presence, a blinding burst of golden light engulfed them. It was warm, then searingly bright.
Then, as quickly as it began, it was gone.
The room plunged back into relative darkness, leaving only the lingering scent of something like ozone and burnt sugar, and the fading echo of Aisling's last, slurred, delighted word.
"Wheee!"
And then, nothing. Just a sudden, disorienting emptiness.
Where were they now?