Dinner was quiet. Peaceful in that strange, heavy way peace always was after magic, after sex, after collapse. He cooked. Simple, for once, vegetables charred just enough, enchanted rice that glowed faintly blue. I didn't ask why. I was too tired to care. The wine was dark. Heavy. A little too rich. He poured it like a promise, leaned back in his chair with that smirk. The one he only wore when chaos wasn't required to keep me near. I sipped. Set the glass down. Then cleared my throat. Malvor froze. Blinked at me like he'd heard thunder. "You—"
"I can talk again," I said softly.
He dropped his fork. "Stars above, I was starting to think I'd have to learn interpretive dance just to flirt with you again."
I gave him a look. That look. The one that promised he'd end up in glitter if he pushed me. He grinned anyway. Raised his glass. The silence that followed was warmer now. Heavy, but not sharp. Waiting.
"Eight of them are active," I said. His smile dimmed. He nodded, listening. "Aerion. Navir. Ravina. Leyla. Calavera. Vitaria. Maximus." I paused. My throat tightened. "Yours."
His gaze caught mine. Lopsided smile. Soft. "Mine too. That's the most important one."
We let it sit there, folded between us like another napkin on the table. Eight. Almost all of them.
"You're close to complete divinity," he murmured. I didn't answer. I didn't need to. He leaned back. "So… who's next?"
We said it together. "Yara."
A pause. Matching smirks. Shared history. His grin was sharper now. "Perfect. She's easy. Always flirting with both of us. We wouldn't even have to try."
"She'd probably bid for the privilege."
"She'd pay me to let you seduce her."
"I wouldn't even have to lie."
"Neither would I."
Our eyes locked. No more plan was needed. It never was. "This is a brilliant idea," he said.
I raised my glass. "You say that about all your terrible ideas."
We clinked. Too loud. Too final. No bruises. Just wine. Just magic. Just strategy. That's what I told myself. But this one… this one already felt off. He grinned wider. "Exactly. And look how fun my life is."
I set my glass down slower this time. "When should we do it?"
"Tomorrow," he said without hesitation. But the pause after was too long, his mouth tight around whatever he didn't say. "Do you want me to… check in after?"
"Don't be weird about it." My voice stayed steady. Too steady. The kind of steady you earn when you've survived too much.
He let it go. Forced brightness. "We dress nice. She likes pretty."
"You're always pretty," I said automatically.
"So are you. Unfortunately."
The toast this time sounded like a door closing. That was it. No boundaries. No safety nets. Just, Let's seduce a goddess. I told myself it was fine. I'd done worse. With less. It was strategy. Just another rune. Just another job. It was just sex. That's what I repeated when I left the table. That's what I clung to. Because if I looked back, I might admit the truth.
The morning passed like a truce. Coffee. Clothes. No kisses. No questions. Silence that wasn't hostile, deliberate. Like circling a beast we'd summoned and couldn't banish. By noon, the lie was rehearsed enough to almost feel true.
"We need the rune," I said, arms crossed against the dresser.
He sprawled sideways in the armchair, twirling a crystal lazily, like sin incarnate. "You want to seduce her?"
"She likes you." I paused. Chose my words too carefully. "She likes me. She'll like us."
Smooth. Even. Like silk stretched over splinters. He looked at me too long. Something in my voice gave me away. He didn't name it. Didn't ask. "Usually," he said, tilting his head, "you have to try to seduce someone. You can't just schedule it like a doctor's appointment."
I smiled without my eyes. "Watch me."
Arbor rustled behind the walls. The candle flickered.
"Are you okay with this?" he asked, finally.
I didn't blink. "Do you want the rune or not?"
That should've been the end. That should've been the line. He didn't push. He was already standing, already summoning glamour. Ocean-kissed clothing. Seduction woven like armor. "Annie, my radiant reef fish," he declared, ridiculous as always, "let's go raise some tides."
I followed. Composed. Calm. Beautiful. But the cracks had already formed. He told himself I was fine. I always said what I meant. I didn't lie. Not to him. …Right?