They led us deeper into the cave restaurant, weaving between tables occupied by nobles engaged in quiet conversations over meals that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent.
The path took us past several of the glowing pools, and I caught myself nearly stumbling when one shifted from blue to violet directly in my peripheral vision, the sudden color change creating an optical illusion of movement where there was none.
Finally we arrived at a table positioned in the exact center of the main hall, elevated slightly on a natural stone platform that gave it prominence over the surrounding dining area. And there, seated with perfect posture and legs crossed with deliberate elegance, sat Madame Seraphine.
She was striking in ways that had nothing to do with conventional beauty and everything to do with presence and calculated presentation. Her hair was cut short in dark, tight curls that framed her face with geometric precision, each curl seemingly positioned with intentional care to create a crown-like effect.
She wore an intricate dress of green and black that hugged her figure while suggesting rather than displaying, the fabric catching light and releasing it in subtle shifts that made her seem to shimmer slightly with each breath.
Jewels glittered at her throat and wrists—emeralds and onyx arranged in patterns that matched her color scheme, expensive enough to feed a family for years but worn with the casual indifference of someone who’d long since stopped being impressed by wealth.
Her face held the kind of sharp intelligence that made you feel exposed just from being looked at, eyes that tracked and cataloged and calculated faster than most people could consciously think.
A smile played across her features—wicked but somehow friendly, which spoke to how she found this entire situation amusing while also taking it completely seriously.
In front of her sat a single empty chair, positioned directly across the table in a way that made it clear this was a one-on-one negotiation despite the presence of our entourage.
She gestured to the chair with one elegant hand, rings catching light from the nearby glowing pool. "Please, sit."
I settled into the chair with as much grace as I could muster while Brutus, Elvina, and Julius arranged themselves behind me in a loose formation.
The table between us held nothing except a single candle burning with flame that shifted through colors to match the pools around us, and the light it cast made Seraphine’s features seem to shift with each flicker.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet," I said, opening with courtesy that felt appropriately professional. "I appreciate you taking time out of what I’m sure is a busy schedule."
"I’m always willing to make time for interesting propositions," she replied, her voice carrying that particular quality of someone who chose every word with perfect precision. "And your letter, while somewhat presumptuous, was definitely interesting. Though I’ll admit, I’m curious about what motivated you to reach out in the first place. Last I checked, we weren’t exactly on friendly terms."
"Last I checked, holding grudges in this city is exhausting and unprofitable," I countered. "Seemed more efficient to explore cooperation rather than letting past conflicts define future possibilities."
Her smile widened slightly, acknowledging the deflection without calling it out directly. "Very diplomatic. Tell me, Loona—may I call you Loona? Or would you prefer some formal title I’m not aware of?" She didn’t wait for my answer before continuing. "What have you been up to these past few weeks? I hear interesting rumors about theatrical performances and private sessions, about a Glasswick singing in a slum establishment, about certain investigations being conducted into matters that might not concern you."
My stomach dropped slightly at that last part, but I kept my expression neutral through force of will. She knew. Not everything, clearly, but enough to be dangerous. Enough to make this conversation significantly more complicated than I’d anticipated.
"We run a theater," I said carefully. "Theaters host performances. Some bloody, some beautiful, some somewhere in between. As for investigations—I’m not sure what rumors you’re referring to, but I’d be happy to address specific concerns if you have them."
Seraphine laughed, the sound genuine and somehow warm despite the edge underneath. "Oh, I like you. You’re quick, you’re clever, and you don’t insult my intelligence by pretending to be stupid."
She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table in a gesture that was almost conspiratorial. "Let me be clear about something. I was a slave once, same as you. Worked my way up from nothing through means that weren’t always pretty or legal. So when I look at you, I see myself—someone who understands that survival in this city requires being smarter, faster, and more ruthless than everyone trying to pull you down."
She sat back, her expression shifting into something more serious. "Which is why I know you’re planning something. I don’t know what exactly, but I know the signs—the careful positioning, the building of assets, the reaching out to establish connections. You’re preparing for something big, and whatever it is, you think it requires my cooperation or at least my neutrality."
I felt sweat beginning to form at my temples despite the cave’s cool air. She was too astute, too perceptive, reading me like I was an open book written in large print specifically for her benefit. I needed to redirect this before she pushed too far into territory I couldn’t afford to discuss.
"Let’s talk about Elvina," I said, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "That’s why we’re here, after all. To negotiate her return and establish terms for future cooperation."
Seraphine’s eyes flicked past me for the first time since we’d sat down, landing on Elvina with an expression that mixed contempt and calculation.
"Ah yes. The famous Elvina Veylith, reduced from nobility to broken toy. How delightfully poetic." She stood with fluid grace, circling around the table to approach Elvina directly. "She looks terrible. Worse than when I last saw her, actually. What have you been doing to her?"
"Teaching her valuable lessons about humility and consequence," I replied. "Though I suspect you’ll have your own curriculum to add once she’s back in your care."
Seraphine walked a slow circle around Elvina, examining her like livestock being evaluated for purchase. Then she turned to Brutus. "Release her."
Brutus looked to me, waiting for confirmation, before I nodded once. He untied the rope binding Elvina’s wrists, and the moment she was free, Elvina stumbled forward exactly as we’d rehearsed, tears streaming down her face as she threw her arms around Seraphine in a desperate embrace.
"Thank you," she sobbed, the words muffled against Seraphine’s dress. "Thank you for taking me back. He’s been—Loona’s been torturing me, I thought I was going to die there, I thought—!"
She was playing her part perfectly, voice breaking in all the right places, body language screaming genuine relief and gratitude. The surrounding nobles at other tables had stopped their own conversations to watch this drama unfold, whispers spreading as they recognized Elvina and processed the scene.
Seraphine’s expression twisted into disgust so pure it was almost artistic, before she delivered a backhanded slap across Elvina’s face with enough force to split her lip and send her stumbling backward.
Elvina hit the stone floor hard, one hand coming up to clutch the fresh wound while blood trickled down her chin, sobs turning from performance to genuine pain.
"Don’t you dare touch me without permission," Seraphine hissed, her voice dropping into registers that promised violence if disobeyed. "You think a few weeks of suffering entitles you to familiar contact? You think you’ve earned the right to embrace me like we’re equals?" She stepped forward, looming over Elvina’s crumpled form. "You’re property. My property now. And property doesn’t cry on its owner’s clothing without consequences."
Elvina sobbed softly, still clutching her bleeding face, the picture of absolute submission. Seraphine stood over her for another moment before her expression shifted back into that satisfied smile, like she’d just completed a particularly enjoyable task.
She turned back to face me, smoothing down her dress where Elvina had wrinkled it. "I accept your proposal," she said pleasantly, as though she hadn’t just brutalized someone in the middle of a crowded restaurant. "I’ll take Elvina back into my establishment starting now. We can meet in a few days to discuss the specific terms of our alliance and what cooperation between our operations might look like."
She snapped her fingers and two attendants appeared from the shadows, moving to collect Elvina from the floor with professional efficiency. Elvina didn’t resist, didn’t even look at me, maintaining her role as broken prisoner being transferred between owners.
I watched them lead her away, disappearing into the cave’s deeper passages, and felt satisfaction settling into my chest alongside the lingering tension.
We’d done it. The first seed had been planted, Elvina was now positioned exactly where we needed her to be, inside Seraphine’s operation with instructions to gather information and feed carefully constructed lies.
All we needed to do now was wait for that seed to grow, for Elvina to establish herself as a trusted intelligence asset, for Seraphine to lower her guard enough that we could strike at the perfect moment.
The game continued. The pieces moved. And we were one step closer to everything I’d been building toward.