Chapter 376: The Last Quiet Day II
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Elena said, "The day would feel strange without that." That was as close to humor as she was likely to allow herself before noon.
The planning room held them another stretch of time while duties shifted and the shape of the day solidified. By the end of it, Dawn House no longer felt like a residence preparing for trouble.
It felt like a hidden command post under noble walls.
When Sekhmet finally left the room, Lily was waiting for him in the inner courtyard shade.
She sat on the low stone edge near the training circle, one knee bent, one hand resting beside her. The sunlight filtering through the upper lattice touched her hair and throat in warm strips. At a glance she looked calm. At a closer look, he could see the tension under the calm.
She was taking it seriously.
She rose when he approached.
"Mira."
Her first word. Of course.
"In the Void Land," he said. "Still transforming."
Lily searched his face for more.
He gave it to her. "She changed differently. Like you did."
That held Lily’s attention immediately.
"What is she becoming?"
"A Crimson Gorgon."
Lily repeated the name under her breath once, testing its shape. Then she nodded slowly. "That fits her."
Yes.
It did.
They walked together along the inner side of the courtyard then, not hurriedly. A maid passing with clean water lowered her eyes and stepped out of the path. Somewhere farther off, steel rang lightly. Vera and Vela were probably still forcing Bat Bat to repeat movement sequences until she stopped trying to improvise philosophy into them.
Lily was quiet for several breaths before she asked the next real thing.
"Tomorrow."
Sekhmet looked at her.
"It starts tomorrow," she said.
"Yes."
"And it will be dangerous."
It was not a question.
He answered her with the truth. "Yes."
Lily let one breath pass and did not look away. "How dangerous."
Sekhmet’s gaze remained steady. "Dangerous enough that one wrong move matters."
That line did not frighten her.
Not visibly.
But it settled into her like a blade being handed across a table.
She asked, "What am I doing?"
There.
No childish pleading to be included. No wife’s sentimental nonsense about staying behind if he ordered it. She was asking for a role, not permission.
That pleased him.
He stopped walking and turned fully toward her.
"You have a role."
Her eyes sharpened.
"But you obey me exactly."
The courtyard seemed quieter for a second after that. Not because anyone heard. Because she understood the weight in his tone.
"Even if you think you see something I do not."
Lily held his gaze. "All right."
"Even if hunger rises."
"All right."
"Even if I send you away from a kill you want."
That one hit a different place.
He saw it.
Good. Better to press the truth now than discover the crack in the middle of blood.
Still, Lily nodded. "All right."
He stepped closer.
"If you disobey me in the middle of this game, I will not treat it like a wife’s mistake. I will treat it like a battlefield failure."
No softness in it.
No room for misreading.
Lily’s throat moved once.
Then she said, "Good."
That answer made him still for half a breath.
She went on, quieter now. "I do not want kindness there. I want to be useful."
Good. Very good.
He touched the side of her face once, not gently and not roughly. Simply enough to mark the moment.
"Then be useful."
That settled something inside her.
She exhaled.
Then, because she was still Lily beneath all the bloodline, she asked, "Will Bat Bat be useful too."
That nearly got him.
Nearly.
"Sometimes by accident."
Lily laughed once. Small. Real. Then the tension in her eyes eased enough that he knew the conversation had gone where it needed to go.
The story turned downward after that, not in mood, but in geography.
Raka’s world woke later and uglier than Dawn House’s. The underground market never truly slept. It only changed who looked tired. By the time he made his rounds through the lower tunnels and side hollow ways beneath the broken merchant district, the last of the night drinkers were giving way to the morning traders, thieves, washed blades, and desperate men who worked jobs no honest roof would name.
Raka liked it that way.
The dark did not offend him. It fed him.
He stood in the main cut-stone hall of his base with forty of his people scattered around him and more coming in from outer watch points. Some were still ordinary men. Some were lesser vampires now, their eyes a little too sharp, their skin a little too cold-toned, their bodies a little too ready for violence.
All of them were his, and through him, Sekhmet’s.
That line still pleased him every time he thought about it.
He planted one boot on an overturned crate and addressed the room.
"Listen carefully."
The talking died.
Mostly.
One drunk in the back muttered to his friend until a lesser vampire turned and stared at him long enough that wisdom suddenly entered his blood.
Raka continued.
"Tomorrow the city changes."
That got all eyes properly on him.
"I am giving all of you a simple path." He lifted one hand and pointed outward, toward the tunnels leading back into the lower market veins. "You stand with me, and there is money. Food. Protection. Future."
He let that settle.
Men understood money.
Poor men understood protection even better.
Then he finished the truth with no sugar on it.
"You do not stand with me, and that is your choice."
Murmurs moved through the hall.
Raka let them move.
Then he bared just enough of the new edge in his teeth to remind them choice did not mean equality.
"But hear me properly. If you do not join me, that is fine. Walk away. Keep your head down. Sell fish. Carry crates. Pretend you were never in this room." His eyes hardened. "But if any of you help Iron House, you die."
The room went still.
That was the right part to land.
One of the older cutpurse men in the middle row raised a hand halfway and then seemed to remember what kind of room this was. He lowered it. "How much money?"