A sharp finger jabbed into Mirak's chest as she declared, "No. It has been decided. I require a new servant, and you happen to fit the role I desire."
Lady Fell glanced around the library, her voice turning almost conversational. "I've spent countless nights among these shelves. One of my servants will need to remain by my side, capable of reading Kavish if I should doze off."
Mirak forced a tight smile, his mind already calculating. Accepting this role meant far less time to report back to the Revenant. Yet the opportunity to search these libraries—massive, sprawling vaults of knowledge—was too valuable to ignore. Lancelot had been clear: they needed information. Though, as Mirak reflected with a pang of guilt, Lancelot had also stressed the importance of remaining inconspicuous.
A flicker of hunger stirred in Mirak's chest. Knowledge. He craved more of it. More than he would ever admit. Winter guided storms, but Mirak barely grasped the rudiments of such power. He needed to learn—had to. If this meant bending to the whims of a noble, so be it. Slowly, deliberately, Mirak dipped his head.
"I would be honored, Lady Fell."
Her lips curved in a satisfied smile. "I will only introduce myself once. I am Sanni, sole daughter of House Fell. A pleasure to meet you..." Her words trailed off, expectant.
"Mirak," he supplied quickly.
Her brow arched, and she added with faint amusement, "Mirak? Only Mirak?"
"Windgust," he corrected, trying not to flinch under her probing gaze. "Mirak Windgust."
Sanni nodded, her expression unreadable. "I will inform Mistress Elissa of the change in roles. Report to my quarters tomorrow at dawn. We will be visiting a library far grander than this."
With a sharp snap of her fingers, Sanni turned her attention to a nearby servant. "Min! Min, isn't it?"
The petite woman flinched as though struck. "Y-yes, my Lady," she stammered. "I've served your house for years."
Sanni's tone softened, but her words carried the same weight of command. "I suggest you avoid the library in the future. Should my father or mother find you here, they'll be far less forgiving than I."
"Yes, my Lady. It will not happen again—you have my word," Min replied, her voice trembling.
Sanni tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lips, then smiled faintly. "Fortunate for you, I've found a hidden gem tonight. You'll not be punished."
With that, she glided toward the door. Min, however, wasted no time seizing Mirak's arm and dragging him away, her grip iron-tight.
"It's time to go," she hissed.
"Yes. I'm done here," Mirak agreed, suppressing a sigh.
Min glared up at him, her fury simmering just below the surface. As they strode through the halls, she fumed aloud, "No more favors. None. The next time I see him, I swear I'll give him a good slap."
Wisely, Mirak kept his mouth shut as they wove through the winding corridors back to the servant quarters. Lock was waiting for them, lounging against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a smirk plastered across his face.
"Well, Mirak," he drawled, "did you find what you were looking for?"
Before Mirak could answer, Min stormed up to Lock and slapped him hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed down the hall.
Lock rubbed his jaw with exaggerated care. "She's got a strong arm, doesn't she?"
Mirak, unwilling to risk her wrath, merely shrugged. "Should you apologize?" he asked cautiously. "She seemed... displeased."
"She'll cool off," Lock replied with a lazy grin. "I'll smooth things over during our next shift."
Then, leaning closer, he added, "But enough about me. What did you find?"
Mirak hesitated, then pulled out the book he'd hidden beneath his cloak. "The Great Houses and Their Contributions to History."
Lock snorted. "A decent start, but anything about House Fell in there is guaranteed to be polished propaganda."
Mirak nodded, already suspecting as much. "I also ran into one of the Fell family members."
Lock's smirk faded. "And that explains why Min's so angry. What happened?"
Mirak exhaled. "Lady Sanni was impressed by my ability to read Kavish. She's appointed me as her personal servant."
Lock's jaw slackened for a brief moment before he recovered, shaking his head. "Well, shit. You've certainly made our job more... interesting. No telling how Lancelot—or the Revenant—will react to this."
"It's an opportunity," Mirak argued, folding his arms. "I'll have access to information we couldn't otherwise obtain. Besides, Lancelot doesn't need to know."
"Sanni Fell," Lock muttered. "Do you even realize who she is?"
Mirak raised an eyebrow. "She said she's the daughter of House Fell."
"She's not just any daughter," Lock clarified, rapping his fingers against the doorframe. "Sanni Fell is second only to her brother Solomon. If he finds out about you, this whole charade falls apart. And trust me, he's someone you don't want to cross."
Mirak's voice dropped to a whisper. "No one knows we're with the Revenant."
Lock rolled his eyes. "True. But this is a dangerous gamble. I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest."
He sighed. "What's done is done. Just... tread carefully. Get what you can from her, but don't let her—or anyone else—catch wind of what you really are. If the Fells find out you can use Harmony, it's over. A Publici sorcerer would have the whole house descending on you in an instant."
Mirak hesitated. "She already suspects something. She recognized me from before I was sold."
"Then she thinks you used Anntom," Lock replied quickly. "Most nobles do. Purple eyes and silver hair? None of that's natural. The Fell family's the worst offender."
Lock's fingers drifted toward the hidden knife in his boot, a habitual motion that betrayed his unease. "You'll have to ride this out. Keep your head down and stay alive."
"And what about you?" Mirak asked.
Lock grinned, his confidence returning. "Oh, I'll keep my ear to the ground. Spread a few rumors, hear a few more. You'd be surprised how much dirt the nobles have on each other. Here's a tip for Lady Sanni: ask her about the Dekal land exchange. That'll get her talking."
Mirak frowned. "The Dekal land exchange?"
"It's a... delicate subject," Lock explained. "Dekal owns vast stretches of uninhabited land, but most of the kingdom's in ruins. House Fell struck a secret deal to gain control of some of that land, offering favorable trade taxes in return. The other Noble Houses wouldn't be happy if they found out."
Mirak scowled. "I hate politics."
Lock laughed mirthlessly. "Then you're in the wrong city, my friend. This cesspool runs on resin. If you've got enough, you can get away with murder. It's one of the most cutthroat trade hubs in all of Lorian."
Mirak sighed. "Looks like it's just you and me, then."
"A thief and his sorcerer," Lock mused, grinning. "Has a nice ring to it."
"I think it sounds better as a sorcerer and his thief," Mirak countered.
"Good thing we've got time to workshop it," Lock replied with a snort. "Speaking of which, we've got business tonight."
Mirak's pulse quickened. "The Revenant?"
Lock tossed him a bundle of clothes. "Suit up. We're raiding a museum with Volim and Selene. The details can wait. Let's get this over with—I'd like a few hours of sleep before dawn."
Mirak caught the bundle, a familiar anticipation buzzing in his veins. Harmony whispered at the edges of his senses, its call as irresistible as ever. With a nod, he turned to prepare.
It was going to be a long night.