“Are you serious right now?”

  I stopped pacing long enough to stare at Szizar across the room. The idiot had made himself comfortable on the couch like he was settling in for a long afternoon of entertainment, one boot propped lazily on the table while he watched me wear a path into the rug.

  “Yes,” he said, completely unbothered.

  The calm in his voice made something inside me snap.

  “No,” I said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

  Szizar tilted his head, studying me with the kind of patient expression people reserve for children who are about to throw something. “It’s a birthday.”

  “That is not the point.”

  “It’s exactly the point,” he replied. “You have them every year.”

  “And I ignore them every year.”

  “Which,” he said, lifting a finger like he was about to deliver a lecture, “is incredibly rude to the people who want cake.”

  I stared at him.

  “You dragged me into this argument because you want cake.”

  “Yes.”

  At least he had the decency not to pretend otherwise.

  I dragged a hand through my hair and started pacing again, the familiar restlessness crawling under my skin. It wasn’t really about the cake. Szizar knew that and I knew that, but neither of us were going to say it out loud.

  Birthdays were… complicated.

  They reminded people of time.

  Of how long you’d been alive.

  Of everything that had happened during that time.

  And I had lived through enough centuries that I preferred not to sit around celebrating them.

  “You are impossible,” I muttered.

  “And yet,” Szizar said pleasantly, “you invited me over.”

  “That was clearly a mistake.”

  “It usually is.”

  I opened my mouth to argue again when the front door opened down the hall.

  The sound cut through the room like a knife.

  Both of us looked toward the entrance.

  Footsteps echoed across the marble floor, steady and unhurried.

  Cazaro appeared first.

  Of course he did.

  My brother moved through the doorway like he owned the air in the room, calm and perfectly composed in that infuriating way of his. He looked exactly like he had when he left earlier—controlled, unbothered, probably already ten steps ahead of whatever conversation he was about to walk into.

  Then she stepped in beside him.

  My pacing stopped.

  It wasn’t dramatic. Nothing obvious. Just a subtle shift that most people probably wouldn’t have noticed.

  But I noticed.

  Because the first thing that caught my attention was the way she leaned slightly toward him as they entered the room.

  Not clinging.

  Not forced.

  Just close enough that their shoulders brushed as they walked.

  Her hand was still resting loosely in his.

  Szizar noticed too. I could see the moment his eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement creeping across his face.

  “Well,” he murmured under his breath, “that’s new.”

  I didn’t respond.

  My eyes stayed fixed on them.

  Cazaro didn’t look surprised by the contact. If anything he looked… pleased. The expression was subtle, barely there, but I knew my brother well enough to see it.

  He set a paper bag on the table and began pulling things out.

  Cherries.

  Chocolate.

  I closed my eyes for half a second.

  Of course.

  Szizar leaned forward immediately, his interest fully revived.

  “Are those—”

  “Yes,” Cazaro said calmly, without even looking up.

  Szizar grinned.

  “Cherry cake.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I groaned.

  “This is exactly what we were arguing about.”

  Cazaro glanced up at me then, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

  “I know.”

  “You started this.”

  “You like cherry cake.”

  “That is not the point.”

  Szizar leaned back against the couch again, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

  Meanwhile my attention drifted back to her.

  She was still standing close to Cazaro, her posture relaxed in a way that hadn’t existed earlier.

  At dinner she had looked like she wanted to throw a chair at him.

  Now she leaned toward him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Something about that bothered me.

  A lot.

  “Did you two enjoy your little outing?” I asked finally.

  Her eyes lifted toward me.

  Calm.

  Too calm.

  “We went to the store.”

  Deadpan.

  Szizar snorted beside me.

  I tilted my head slightly.

  “You don’t say.”

  Cazaro ignored the conversation entirely, continuing to sort through the groceries like this was the most important task in the world.

  My gaze flicked down once more to their hands.

  Still touching.

  Then back to her face.

  Because one of two things was happening here.

  Either she was adjusting to palace life much faster than I expected…

  Or she was playing a very dangerous game.

  And the problem with that second possibility was simple.

  If she thought she could outplay my brother—

  She had absolutely no idea what she’d gotten herself into.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  I stopped pacing long enough to stare at Szizar across the room. The idiot had made himself comfortable on the couch like he was settling in for a long afternoon of entertainment, one boot propped lazily on the table while he watched me wear a path into the rug.

  “Yes,” he said, completely unbothered.

  The calm in his voice made something inside me snap.

  “No,” I said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

  Szizar tilted his head, studying me with the kind of patient expression people reserve for children who are about to throw something. “It’s a birthday.”

  “That is not the point.”

  “It’s exactly the point,” he replied. “You have them every year.”

  “And I ignore them every year.”

  “Which,” he said, lifting a finger like he was about to deliver a lecture, “is incredibly rude to the people who want cake.”

  I stared at him.

  “You dragged me into this argument because you want cake.”

  “Yes.”

  At least he had the decency not to pretend otherwise.

  I dragged a hand through my hair and started pacing again, the familiar restlessness crawling under my skin. It wasn’t really about the cake. Szizar knew that and I knew that, but neither of us were going to say it out loud.

  Birthdays were… complicated.

  They reminded people of time.

  Of how long you’d been alive.

  Of everything that had happened during that time.

  And I had lived through enough centuries that I preferred not to sit around celebrating them.

  “You are impossible,” I muttered.

  “And yet,” Szizar said pleasantly, “you invited me over.”

  “That was clearly a mistake.”

  “It usually is.”

  I opened my mouth to argue again when the front door opened down the hall.

  The sound cut through the room like a knife.

  Both of us looked toward the entrance.

  Footsteps echoed across the marble floor, steady and unhurried.

  Cazaro appeared first.

  Of course he did.

  My brother moved through the doorway like he owned the air in the room, calm and perfectly composed in that infuriating way of his. He looked exactly like he had when he left earlier—controlled, unbothered, probably already ten steps ahead of whatever conversation he was about to walk into.

  Then she stepped in beside him.

  My pacing stopped.

  It wasn’t dramatic. Nothing obvious. Just a subtle shift that most people probably wouldn’t have noticed.

  But I noticed.

  Because the first thing that caught my attention was the way she leaned slightly toward him as they entered the room.

  Not clinging.

  Not forced.

  Just close enough that their shoulders brushed as they walked.

  Her hand was still resting loosely in his.

  Szizar noticed too. I could see the moment his eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement creeping across his face.

  “Well,” he murmured under his breath, “that’s new.”

  I didn’t respond.

  My eyes stayed fixed on them.

  Cazaro didn’t look surprised by the contact. If anything he looked… pleased. The expression was subtle, barely there, but I knew my brother well enough to see it.

  He set a paper bag on the table and began pulling things out.

  Cherries.

  Chocolate.

  I closed my eyes for half a second.

  Of course.

  Szizar leaned forward immediately, his interest fully revived.

  “Are those—”

  “Yes,” Cazaro said calmly, without even looking up.

  Szizar grinned.

  “Cherry cake.”

  I groaned.

  “This is exactly what we were arguing about.”

  Cazaro glanced up at me then, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

  “I know.”

  “You started this.”

  “You like cherry cake.”

  “That is not the point.”

  Szizar leaned back against the couch again, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

  Meanwhile my attention drifted back to her.

  She was still standing close to Cazaro, her posture relaxed in a way that hadn’t existed earlier.

  At dinner she had looked like she wanted to throw a chair at him.

  Now she leaned toward him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Something about that bothered me.

  A lot.

  “Did you two enjoy your little outing?” I asked finally.

  Her eyes lifted toward me.

  Calm.

  Too calm.

  “We went to the store.”

  Deadpan.

  Szizar snorted beside me.

  I tilted my head slightly.

  “You don’t say.”

  Cazaro ignored the conversation entirely, continuing to sort through the groceries like this was the most important task in the world.

  My gaze flicked down once more to their hands.

  Still touching.

  Then back to her face.

  Because one of two things was happening here.

  Either she was adjusting to palace life much faster than I expected…

  Or she was playing a very dangerous game.

  And the problem with that second possibility was simple.

  If she thought she could outplay my brother—

  She had absolutely no idea what she’d gotten herself into.

  The room settles again after the brief chaos of their arrival. Cazaro is busy unpacking the groceries like this was the entire point of the afternoon, Szizar is lounging like he’s been here all day entertaining himself, and I’m still standing where I stopped pacing.

  She’s still close to Cazaro.

  Still leaning slightly into him.

  I haven’t decided what I think about that yet.

  Then she speaks.

  “How old are you going to be?”

  Her voice is directed at me.

  For a second I just stare at her, surprised by the question. The corner of my mouth lifts before I can stop it.

  I laugh.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t think I will tell you.”

  Her eyebrows lift slightly in mild annoyance, but before she can say anything else Szizar snorts loudly from the couch.

  “Oh for the love of—”

  He sits forward slightly, clearly delighted that this conversation exists at all.

  “You’re acting like it’s a state secret.”

  I roll my eyes.

  She looks between the two of us, clearly trying to follow the exchange.

  What makes the question stranger is the fact that she barely knows Szizar at all. They met once, briefly, when he came to the palace last week on business with Cazaro. The entire interaction lasted maybe ten minutes before things went sideways.

  Which is why it’s a little surprising that she asked me anything in front of him.

  Szizar speaks before I can decide whether I’m going to say anything else.

  “One hundred and seven. That is how I am in case you are wondering."

  The number drops casually into the room.

  Her head snaps toward him.

  “Holy shit.”

  Szizar grins.

  “You actually told me,” she says, looking at him in disbelief.

  Her reaction makes him laugh under his breath.

  “Well someone had to,” he says.

  I shoot him a look.

  He ignores it completely.

  She shakes her head slightly, still processing the number.

  “One hundred and seven.”

  Then she looks back at him again.

  “You don’t look that old.”

  Szizar snorts.

  “That’s because I moisturize.”

  I groan.

  “Please stop talking.”

  He only grins wider.

  Meanwhile my attention drifts back to her.

  Because even though she looks amused, I can’t quite shake the feeling that the question wasn’t random.

  She’s watching us.

  Listening.

  And learning.

  And something about that makes me very curious about what she plans to do with what she learns.