"But why isn't he here yet?" Hale asked, her tone slightly impatient, as if expecting some cosmic force to deliver her son on cue.
Alastor raised an eyebrow. "You already informed him?"
"No, but he should've sensed my magic by now," Hale said, waving a hand dismissively. "Especially in such a powerless kingdom."
"Powerless?" Alastor echoed. It sounded more like 'Excuse me?' than a question, as if he had just been informed that the sun rose in the west.
"I mean magically, dear," Hale clarified, rolling her eyes. "There's barely any aura in the air. Why do you think I left Jazl here—"
Just then, the door burst open like a small explosion, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Jaslin entered like a force of nature, and immediately spotted her mother. "Mom!"
Hale's expression shifted in an instant. She sat up straight, her eyes widening. The regal fairy queen, who had moments ago been locked in a battle of wits with her exasperated former lover, now wore a look of pure, unfiltered delight. She blinked at her child, eyes glistening as if she were witnessing a miracle.
Alastor, watching this emotional reunion unfold, felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. He shook his head, bemused.
'So much for 'details,' huh, Hale?'
"Baby?" Hale stood up slowly, her voice softening as she approached Jaslin. She cupped her daughter's face in her hands, her expression still slightly surprised, eyes almost watering. Pulling Jaslin into a tight embrace, she murmured, "You look so well. Thank goodness."
Jaslin beamed in the embrace, practically glowing with happiness. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she asked, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder.
Hale chuckled, her fingers running through Jaslin's hair. "Even I didn't know I would be coming, my love."
Meanwhile, Daphne lingered in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she observed the embrace. A strange pang tugged at her heart, a sensation she couldn't quite place. She rubbed her chest, confusion knitting her brows together. 'What is this...? Am I hungry?'
After a moment of contemplation, she glanced at the tarts, their golden crusts glistening under the light, and then back at the tender scene before her. With a resigned sigh, she turned on her heel and walked away, muttering to herself, "I should probably eat something."
Eclipse, the Guild Master, sat casually in a chair by his desk, his arms crossed as he regarded the cloaked figure lounging on the sofa.
The cloaked man, his identity hidden beneath layers of fabric, shifted slightly, the fabric rustling like dry leaves. "Did you still not figure out who he's working for?" he asked, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of impatience.
Eclipse arched an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. He couldn't help but wonder why nobles insisted on cloaking themselves in mystery when their identities were as obvious as a pig in a ballroom. "Soon," he replied, his tone dripping with the kind of patience only a guild master could muster. "Be patient. We had been going easy on him."
"Easy?" The cloaked man's tone turned incredulous, and Eclipse could almost hear the smirk beneath the hood. "Torture is easy?"
Eclipse narrowed his eyes slightly, the gears in his mind turning. 'Considering who he's with right now, I would say the torture earlier was lenient.'
He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, imagining the scene: 'Only Raze can make staring a torture method.'
Though in truth, only Eclipse would laugh it off. After all, being stuck with someone who is considered the deadliest, just staring at you with their bloody eyes for hours... is rather chilling, don't you think?
The cloaked man shifted, and Eclipse caught a glimpse of movement beneath the hood, as if the man were raising an eyebrow at his chuckling.
"Is that all you've come here for?" Eclipse asked, his tone shifting from bemused to slightly annoyed.
"You sure are talking too freely for someone who knows who I am," the cloaked man replied, his voice low and dripping with mockery.
Eclipse smirked, leaning forward with an air of playful arrogance.
The man's demeanor shifted, a glint of irritation flashing in his eyes. "You're not the true master here, are you?"
Eclipse paused, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a smile broke across his face, as if he had just been told a particularly funny joke. "Congratulations on figuring that out. You've outsmarted a baby."
The cloaked man glared, his patience wearing thin. "I wish to talk to that person. When are they available?"
Eclipse stared at him, the silence stretching. "How about you go home instead? Rather than losing your head, Your Grace."
The cloaked man's eyes widened at the implied threat, and for a heartbeat, the air crackled with tension. Then, with a huff of indignation, he stood up. "Fine. Tell me when you figure out who he's working for." He strode toward the door, his cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud.
Eclipse watched him go, arms crossed, a slight glare etched on his face.
As the cloaked figure made his way through the corridor, he was abruptly knocked off balance by a rushing servant. The servant stumbled, falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes, while the cloaked man remained unmoved, a statue of indifference.
"Apologies, my lord!" the servant stammered, scrambling to his feet. In his haste, he accidentally dropped a golden letter, which glimmered in the dim light. The cloaked man's eyes narrowed, catching sight of the letter just as the servant hastily snatched it up and stuffed it into his pocket.
As the servant dashed away, the cloaked figure stood still, a thought creeping into his mind.
'Why is the master of an assassin guild receiving a personal invitation to the debutante ball?'