In that quiet mont, Michael couldn’t help the small, dry thought that crawled into his mind.
If I’d had this an hour ago, that Great-Tier scroll would have been mine.
A ripple of understanding passed through the room. Michael knew exactly why the manager’s hands were trembling, why his voice wavered as he asked, "Is there...anything else you require, Sir Mic? Any further compensation, or perhaps an item you had your eye on? It would be no trouble."
Michael studied the man’s pallid face.
He knew exactly why the manager was offering so freely.
He’d realized that Michael’s intervention tonight hadn’t just saved the nobles and the custors.
It had saved him.
Had the second prince died in that illusion—
Michael’s eyes shifted sideways, landing on the prince, who was now engaged in a low, affable conversation with Duke Evermoon.
—it would have been had for most people here to live to see another dawn.
Not the manager. Not his staff. Probably not even their families.
Michael exhaled slowly.
A part of him did feel a slight, sour regret—so much money, and none of it had co in ti to shift tonight’s bidding in his favor.
But all the sa...
He inclined his head, his voice calm.
"...there is one thing," Michael said.
The manager stiffened, as though bracing for a demand he couldn’t et. "Anything you require, Sir Mic."
Michael’s gaze drifted briefly to Lyra, who stood behind him with her head lowered in silent composure. Then he looked back at the manager.
"Do you have any master and servant contract scrolls remaining?"
The question seed to catch the manager by surprise. His brows climbed a fraction. "Master and servant...? Ah—yes, of course. We keep a supply of them for special transactions. You...require more?"
"I do," Michael replied evenly.
The manager inclined his head and motioned to one of the clerks waiting near the wall. The young woman practically scurried away to retrieve the item.
While they waited, Michael’s thoughts drifted.
The master and servant scroll.
Now he had confird it.
He could use his talent on Lyra.
Even if he later doesn’t use the scrolls due it’s nature, it was not a bad thing to have so with him on hand.
Because it ant he’d uncovered another way to extend his evolution.
That alone was worth more than any sum of gold.
A quiet rustle of parchnt pulled him from his thoughts.
The clerk had returned, arms laden with a small velvet box. She set it gingerly atop a nearby table and opened it, revealing three rolled scrolls bound in silver clasps.
"Three master and servant contracts, Sir Mic," the manager said carefully. "If you wish more, I can have them fetched."
"This will do."
Michael stepped forward, lifting the first scroll.
******
A few minutes later, everything had finally—rcifully—been settled.
The nobles dispersed with their guards in tow,
Even the second prince eventually turned away from his predatory negotiations to issue a perfunctory farewell.
Michael had no intention of lingering longer than necessary.
He walked side by side with Duke Evermoon along the broad corridor that led to the parking lot.
At the carriage bay, Duke Evermoon stopped. He turned, his gaze settling calmly on Michael.
"You have my thanks again, Sir Mic." His voice was low, asured.
Michael inclined his head, expression polite but distant. "I did only what was necessary."
"Perhaps. But necessity alone rarely moves n so quickly."
Duke Evermoon lifted a gloved hand and gestured to the lacquered box tucked under his other arm. "I expect we will et again. My daughter will no doubt have questions of her own."
Michael suppressed the faintest sigh. "As you say."
The Duke smiled slightly, then seed to rember sothing.
"Before I forget—His Highness the Second Prince asked to pass along a ssage."
Michael’s stomach imdiately tightened.
"He said...when you are free, he would appreciate a eting."
Michael closed his eyes for just a mont, feeling the dull beginnings of a headache.
Before, he would have been thinking of excuses.
But things were different now.
Too many things he’d done, too many ripples he’d left in his wake.
Avoiding the kingdom’s political circle completely was...optimistic, at best.
He drew a slow breath and opened his eyes again.
"I understand," he said evenly.
Duke Evermoon inclined his head, apparently satisfied.
The old man seed ready to turn away, but then he paused. His pale eyes settled thoughtfully on Michael’s face.
"When you find the ti," he said, his tone softening a fraction, "you should visit."
"Soon," Michael said, voice calm. "I have so matters to discuss with Lady Arianne, in any case."
That—rather unexpectedly—made the Duke’s expression warm, almost indulgent. "Good," he said simply. "That will please her."
Michael wondered if he regretted saying it already.
The Duke stepped closer, resting a gloved hand lightly on his carriage door. Before he climbed in, he turned back once more.
"One last thing," he added, lowering his voice. "The carriage that brought you here tonight—it will remain at your disposal. I’ve already sent instructions. Use it to return wherever you please. There’s no sense in you having to hire passage after all you’ve done."
Michael blinked.
He dipped his head once, asured and polite. "Thank you."
Duke Evermoon studied him for a final heartbeat, and then, with no more words, climbed into the carriage.
The door shut behind him with a quiet finality.
A mont later, the Evermoon crest glided past, the carriage wheels whispering over the stones as it disappeared into the night.
Michael stood in the cold air a little longer than he needed to, feeling the weight of the long evening in his shoulders.
When he finally turned away, Lyra was waiting behind him in silent composure, her expression the sa unreadable calm it had been all night.
He exhaled once, slow and quiet.
"Co," he murmured.
And together, without another glance at the auction house, they walked to the waiting carriage that would carry them ho.
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