Dinner tonight was in our dining room. Fallias was seated to Ten's right. Judging from their conversation, it seemed the two had hit it off early. That made things easier. What didn't help was the way Barbra, Ria, and Cordelia kept staring at her.

Was it that obvious?

I wasn't interested in the three of them. Probably. Barbra, maybe a bit. The whole "she can murder me" thing is undeniably attractive, but she's a Dominus. I don't know how old she actually is, but it could be hundreds. That gives me pause.

Ria is… me. That's complicated in ways I don't want to think about during dinner.

Cordelia? I did promise her a date. I haven't forgotten. But everyone quietly agrees that if we actually followed through, it would end in beautiful disaster. A real romantic tragedy. No survivors.

I exhaled through my nose and focused on the food in front of me. Mutton. Rich, perfectly seasoned, tender. Not surprising considering my holdings. Three weeks back, and the land had already started producing.

I hope my—

"So. Alexander. We have wonderful news," Wallace said, his tone clipped and orderly, the way a soldier might announce victory after a campaign. "Your fold has produced enough wool to begin exports to the Free City of Laster and the Duchy of Nuro."

He paused just long enough to pick up his cup before continuing.

"However, we'll need your signature to authorize trade. We've vetted five companies. Three more I advise strongly against, though I won't stop you from choosing them. Just be aware they've made a habit of dealing with the lower market."

Lower market? That stirred something.

Idea.

"I think I already have a mercantile company in mind," I said, cutting into another piece of mutton. It was just as good as the first.

I tapped open Gloss and sent a message, my fingers moving swiftly.

Captain Jasmine —

This is Walker Alexander Duarte-Alizade, your insignia bearer. I have a business operation that requires redirecting a land-based commerce route. I now manage a strong fold of sheep, and we've yielded a substantial amount of high-quality wool. I intend to open trade with Laster and Nuro. I'd like to entrust this to your network. Let me know when you're ready.

I looked up.

"Sent," I said before anyone could ask. "I already have a mercantile company under my name. I'll know more soon."

Gloss shimmered. A return message blinked into view.

Admiral Duarte — Acknowledged. I'll have Ferren, one of my logistics officers, dispatch a caravan under a new company name bearing your mark. Officially, it will be registered as the Blue Letter Trading Company, based entirely in your princedom. Blue Letter will specialize in wool, vellum, and parchment, with occasional ventures into incense, myrrh, jewelry, and exotic goods. To be honest, it's a convenient way for me to move certain items under a legitimate front and pay your tithes with proper ceremony.

"Literally now," I muttered.

"Wallace," I said louder, "we'll be receiving a man by the name of Ferren, representing the Blue Letter Trading Company. When he arrives, have him sent directly to my tea room."

Wallace gave a nod. That was that.

We returned to the meal.

V was being V. Some ridiculous story full of sarcasm and poorly disguised self-praise. Ten was telling Fallias about how she once nearly killed a dragon, which made both Fallias and I laugh. It was an inside joke, one born from something no one else at the table quite understood.

Fractal was teaching everyone a new board game that revolved around forming trade routes for a fledgling technocratic colony. She was beaming with pride as she explained it.

For a moment, it was peaceful. Good food, good company. Laughter and firelight.

As long as I ignored the three girls staring daggers into me across the table.

The tension was unbearable.

It wasn't the mutton. That was excellent. It wasn't the conversation, either — Fallias and Ten were still deep in some outrageous story about how Ten once kicked a dragon's tooth out and used it to stir her tea.

No, it was the three sets of eyes slowly boring holes through the side of my head.

Barbra. Ria. Cordelia.

All watching Fallias.

All watching me watch Fallias.

I tried to keep chewing, tried not to notice the silence around the corners of their lips, the stillness of their hands, the way none of them had touched their food in minutes. It was obvious. Too obvious.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

I cleared my throat and said, louder than necessary, "You might as well say it."

Silence.

I waved my fork slightly, gesturing around the table. "I know what this is. You all think I'm just... helplessly wiled by her charms or something. That I'm about to propose marriage after one conversation and a shared joke. Look, I'm not that stupid."

I took a breath and pointed my fork first at Cordelia. "Cordelia. Come on. Even you said it. We'd end in tragedy. Beautiful, poetic, flaming-wreckage-of-a-love-story kind of tragedy. You'd crush my heart, and I'd write you letters you'd never open. We both know it."

She blinked, clearly not expecting me to start with her. I didn't stop.

Stolen story; please report.

Next, Ria.

"And you... Ria. You are—this is going to sound weird—you're my soul satellite. I don't care if our theoretical children would be... like, spiritually optimized or whatever. That's not a reason to date someone. Plus, you keep as many secrets from me as I keep from you. We'd never be able to build something on trust. It'd be like playing chess where both players lie about what pieces they're moving."

Her mouth opened to protest, then closed again. She crossed her arms instead.

Then my eyes met Barbra's. That was the hardest one.

"And Barbra…" I hesitated. "You're my mentor. My friend. In some very strange and deeply uncomfortable ways, you're kind of like my mom. So even though the whole 'you could murder me' thing is... vaguely hot in a terrifying way, that just makes everything more confusing. It would be awkward on so many levels I'd need a staircase to get through them."

No one laughed. Not even V. He just sipped his wine with the satisfied smirk of someone watching a fire that wasn't his problem.

I stabbed another bite of mutton and shoved it into my mouth, chewing furiously.

Silence reigned. Again.

Then Ten burst out laughing, loud and sharp, nearly choking on her drink. "You absolute idiot."

That broke the spell.

Barbra rolled her eyes, but she looked away. Ria just sighed, muttering something about how I always make things more complicated than they need to be. Cordelia... actually smiled. Just a little.

"Also," Fallias added casually, and that word alone was dangerous. She tilted her head, giving me a look that was way too amused for what came next. "Didn't you propose to me in the Library of Last Night? I mean, yes, we were both a bit addled from the cold and, you know, surviving death or madness or whatever, but you did technically propose after like, two conversations."

She tossed that comment into the room like it was a garnish, not a live grenade.

Silence.

Then came the fire.

Barbra's eyes snapped to mine with the sharpness of a thrown dagger. Cordelia's fork paused mid-air. Ria blinked once, slowly, like she was recalculating the entire shape of reality.

Even V finally choked on his drink and began coughing into his napkin. He tried to hide a laugh. Failed.

I raised both hands, immediately, defensively.

"Okay. Hold on. That is not—I didn't—Look, I was freezing. My brain was literally shutting down. There were books whispering in my skull, Fallias. I might have said something vaguely romantic to keep morale up, sure, but that is not a legally binding—"

"Oh, he said 'legally binding,'" Ten laughed, grinning like a fox with feathers in her teeth. "He's panicking. This is adorable."

"I am not panicking," I lied.

Fallias just raised her brows and took a sip of wine, clearly enjoying the destruction. "You said, and I quote, 'If we don't freeze to death, I'll marry you just for surviving this with me.' Very passionate. Very gallant. I thought it was sweet."

I buried my face in one hand and groaned. "I was trying to motivate you to keep moving. I was delirious."

Barbra leaned back in her chair, voice cool. "Yet you remember her quote exactly. Interesting."

"I have anxious memory recall," I muttered. "It's a condition."

Cordelia just blinked once. "So she gets a marriage proposal and I get a theoretical doomed love story. Great. No favoritism there."

Ria rested her chin on one hand. "I get metaphysical orbit metaphors. And hypothetically strong children."

Ten cackled again. "Sounds like you're the real winner, Ria."

"Can we please return to the part where none of this is real?" I asked the ceiling. "And where we eat in peace like normal war-battered, politically entangled mercenaries with mild emotional problems?"

Fallias just smiled, leaning comfortably against her chair. "You know, I never said no."

I froze.

Silence again.

V finally spoke, cutting through the tension with a grin and absolutely zero concern for my dignity.

"So, is this dinner or an engagement party?"

"I hate all of you," I said, mostly to my plate.

No one believed me.

And worst of all, the mutton was getting cold.

***

The tea room was quiet again, finally. Warm. Peaceful. A little sanctuary of aromatic steam and porcelain cups.

Cordelia had brewed the tea, of course. She always made it better than anyone else, even when she claimed not to be trying. Subtle notes of cinnamon, mint, and whatever herb she kept secret filled the air like a calming spell. She sat beside me, legs tucked under her, giggling softly over her cup.

I looked up from the scattered parchment on my desk, brow furrowed.

"Cordelia, are you okay?" I asked, setting down my pen. "I know things got a bit… chaotic earlier but—"

She cut me off with a sly smile, swirling the tea in her hands.

"She's your type, you know. I know you, Alex."

There was something in her voice. Amusement, yes. But also the sort of calm resignation that only comes after years of watching someone make the same mistake over and over again.

"Lithe. A little skinny. Beautiful hair and eyes. That alto-tenor voice you like so much. Skin like candlelight. Slender in all the places you romanticize, and soft in all the ones you don't talk about." She leaned in a bit. "Honestly, if I couldn't read her thoughts, I would have guessed you made her up yourself. A dream conjured out of lonely thoughts and wishful illusions."

I blinked. "Please don't tell me you were reading her thoughts during that story."

"I was," she said with a casual sip, "and no, it's not my secret to share. But I'll say this much—what you're doing is literally playing with fire. She's a dragon. Well. Half-dragon."

She tilted her head at me, like she was studying a living contradiction.

"Just like you're half-almiraj. Technically, you'd be prey."

I groaned softly and rubbed my temples. "I've noticed I have a thing for surrounding myself with bloodlines that would naturally eat mine. That's not a healthy habit, is it?"

She laughed at that, a warm, musical sound. "Not even slightly. But at least you're consistent."

I tried to smile but failed halfway through. "Are you actually mad?"

She shook her head. "Not with what you said at the table. No. That was... earnest, if clumsy. I'm mad about where you said it. Right there, in front of all of us. You basically turned dinner into a stage play called 'Alexander Duarte's Emotional Debacles: Act I.'"

"I panicked," I muttered. "They were all staring at me like I kicked a puppy."

"And you responded with a monologue about why no one at the table is dateable. While looking at them. You need charm school, Alex. Badly."

"Is that a Skillcube?" I asked flatly.

She snorted into her tea. "Not yet. But if it ever is, I'm stuffing it into your soul whether you like it or not."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. The paper could wait. The tea was still warm. And Cordelia, for all her sarcasm, was still here.

"You're not going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

Fair enough.

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