Chapter 25: Lullaby - Hunger & Harmony

“Cadence?”

My eyes flutter open. I don’t know when they closed.

“Yeah?”

The buzz of Sunveil has slowed to a hum outside. It’s the middle of the night, and the world feels like it’s only mine and Niko’s. We tangle under my comforter, the rush of pleasure far behind us, replaced by gentle comfort.

To me, every other time I’ve seen him pales in comparison to this moment. He’s never looked softer, head to the pillow and arms around me. He’s never looked more like mine.

“I want to tell you something.” His eyes search mine earnestly, like he’s trying to predict the consequence of his words. “I wanted to say something since it happened, but . . .”

Maybe my stomach should be churning right now, but my soul is settled, and the silence after his words isn’t punishing.

“You can say it now,” I whisper back, and he nods slowly.

“Well . . .”

His left hand comes up. I know, even before he touches it, that the tattoo disquiets him. Fully healed and obstructed only by the thin material of my camisole, the butterfly hums under his fingers. Like it knows his name.

“Butterflies . . . are special to me.” He lets his knuckles fall away. “Special to my mother.”

My hand rests over the tattoo, my heart beating steadily under it.

“There’s not just one celestial object, but two in the Scorpius constellation that resemble a butterfly,” he says. “A nebula and a cluster.” He shrugs, smiling sadly. “My mother thought that was special. Fated. Butterflies are a symbol of hope, right?”

“Yeah . . .”

“She sang of them, carved and stitched them everywhere.” His eyes return to mine. “So, when you chose that one in particular, a sketch I’ve seen hundreds of times . . .”

He trails off. I snuggle closer to him, my head on his chest now.

“I guess she was right,” I say. “It is special. Fated.”

His hold on me tightens. I let him pull me into his chest completely, fitting against him like I’ve always belonged here.

Maybe I have. Maybe my heart recognized truth before I could put it into words.

A phone wails in the distance. It’s a ringtone I don’t recognize. Niko stiffens before he swears under his breath.

“What time is it?” he asks, and I glance over his shoulder at my bedside clock.

“Three on the dot.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you need to go?” I ask.

The face he’s making betrays how badly he doesn’t want to.

“Hey.” I bring my hand up to his cheek and smile softly. “We still have to do things.”

“But . . .” He leans into my fingers, eyes closing as he whispers, “Being here is more important.”

“So is being a leader and a king.”

His eyes open, and I giggle at his sulking. He’s really not convinced.

“I promise to come back to you the second I can.”

“Good,” I say, letting my hand fall away. “I’ll get things done, too. I should check in with Lorelai.”

He nods, but it’s me who has to peel our limbs apart. After pulling on his shirt as slowly as possible, he’s still stalling by my nightstand, an adorably sad look on his face.

“Wait, sir?” I stand up. “Can I get some help over here?”

Niko blinks at me, clearly perplexed as I smile sweetly at him.

“Yeah, you,” I say, waving him over.

He glances back at the wall before he steps towards me.

“Uh . . .”

“I’ve heard great things about B.E.R., and you’re, like, employee of the month, right?”

I hold in a fit of laughter when he only stares down at me in response. He’d probably look less alarmed if I grew another head.

“Cadence . . .?”

“You see, I’ve been meaning to get another jacket from Boyfriend Essentials Rentals. You can help me with that, yeah?”

He blinks one more time before a grin lights up his face.

“Why yes, Miss,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “You certainly need your boyfriend’s jacket while he’s gone.”

“It is essential.”

He captures laughter between our lips.

* * *

Smoked vanilla and bourbon wrap around me as I lock my front door. It’s barely been twenty minutes since Niko left, and the bond remains steady in my bones. I’m more than hopeful. There’s evidence of what resisting our connection does, and what we did earlier is the complete opposite.

I’m still floating as I journey up the hallway, my face aching from smiling so much. Not that I’m complaining.

The road ahead is still hard, but together? I fear nothing.

When I approach the connecting door, I stop to rummage through my slouchy tote.

“What the . . .?”

Even after a good three rounds of sifting through everything, I don’t see my ID. My lanyard is bright blue, so I always find it easily. I lift my head, glancing around the hallway like it’d magically be lying around. Shit. I must’ve forgotten it back home.

I grumble to myself as I turn. Just my luck!

Three taps on the glass door startle me.

“Oh!” I gasp, turning to see who’s trying to get my attention. “Jamie?”

The human coordinator who passed ‌her sour candy to me. She waves at me, and I wave back excitedly.

“You stuck?” she calls through the door, and I nod.

“Forgot my damn ID!”

“I got you!”

Only a moment later, and the glass door beeps open. It’s a relief when I step over to her.

“Thanks, oh my god,” I say. “You saved me a trip back to my apartment.”

She flips her brunette bob, and I pretend to bow down to her.

“Any time.” She then gestures to me. “It’s been a while!”

I hate to admit it, but dread surfaces when she acknowledges that. Shuffling my shoes, I shrug. The citrus air freshener tightens my lungs.

“Yeah, almost two months . . .”

Despite how awkward I feel, she doesn’t miss a beat.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, and I lift my gaze again. “You should join me for lunch soon!”

Relief settles my shoulders. I nod gratefully.

“Definitely.”

Just as she smiles back, her phone beeps.

“Oh! Better get going. Saving you wasn’t on the to-do list.”

I laugh, nodding as she rushes off.

“I’m indebted to you, Jamie!” I call after her, watching her disappear around the corner.

Then, I look to the right of the hall. That’s where I’ll be heading.

This path no longer feels the same. Surreal doesn’t cover it. It’s not different to be here at nearly four in the morning, and a hushed buzz of office activity remains in the background, but it’s just me and the gray walls as I walk.

I notice details I’ve never seen before. Was there always a collection of rolled-up rugs in the hall up to the meeting rooms? Since when did we have a potted plant at the entrance of the break lounge? And what’s crumpled on the floor next to the rehearsal room’s doors?

When I bend down, I see it’s sky blue and floppy.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask my lanyard as I snatch it up.

I don’t even have to glance at it to know it’s mine. Huh. How the hell . . .?

“Silence harbors the end . . .”

Goosebumps sweep over my skin. I freeze, the hair on the back of my neck rising as the soft song continues.

“The crown will crack before it bends.”

My heart is in my throat, and I swallow hard, eyes darting around the hallway. It’s a woman’s voice. Gentle, beautiful, and echoing around the corner.

I take a breath. Maybe it’s one of the cleaners, or an admin worker singing to herself? This is a record label; it’s not too out of the question, right?

“A song unsung will call her name,

And love will set the halls aflame.”

Clutching my lanyard, I take a small step back. Where is that coming from?

Why do I recognize it?

I wait, the seconds stretching into a minute of painful silence. Nothing.

Trying to relax my muscles, I hurry down the hall, dashing back to the break room. I don’t know what’s going on, but those lyrics remind me of something. Silence and fire. A song and a crown.

I slow to a stop, staring down at the random plant sitting next to the door. As I peer at it, I realize the heart-shaped green leaves are plastic.

“It’s fake,” I whisper, frowning at the plant.

“What is it, Cass?”

My brow furrows before I swiftly press myself to the wall. Selene’s voice comes from inside the break room. I hear a chair scrape.

“Please have a seat.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“No,” she says. “Just say what you need to.”

“Sel . . .”

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Why is our sound tech talking so casually to Selene? I’ve barely seen them interact, let alone be on such familiar terms. I hold my reaction in and try to be as still as possible.

“Not here,” she whispers.

It’s not a cold response. It’s a quiet plea.

“I’m sorry, I . . .”

He clears his throat. There’s the tapping of a boot, likely hers.

“Listen. I’ve been doing that research you told me not to.”

“Cass—”

“No, listen,” he says to her, and I bite my lip. “The Archduchess can only work off the information she has. Same for Ryel. Same for everyone. But I was right—something is missing.”

“How are you so sure?” she asks, and I find my own questions coming up. “You’ve said this for months.”

“I know. The Court has its own version of this . . . prophecy. A lot has been destroyed, but I’ve salvaged evidence that suggests it wasn’t always so bleak.” His voice lowers, and I lean in to hear every word. “On Friday, the Archduchess is coming for the show. Before then . . .”

“We need a solid plan,” she says to finish his thought. “Just not here.”

“Not here,” he hums. “We have to hurry. They can't get their way.”

My stomach churns. What does the Court want to do?

“Do we involve His Majesty in your findings? Cadence?” Selene asks.

“No.”

I tense, hands flexing against the wall. He’s saying that with zero hesitation, and I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t involve the ones most affected by this prophecy. False or not, this bond is real. We are real.

“I don’t have much to show yet. When I do, well . . .”

There’s the shuffle of chairs and shoes, so I fall back. My heart hammers in my chest as I make a run for it back the way I came, equal parts alarmed and resentful as I dip around the corner.

Because this is my life. I hold Niko’s jacket tighter around myself, inhaling his cologne to steady myself.

In the end, I don’t care. Prophecies can shove it. I’ll figure this out with Niko, and we don’t have to be defined by anything.

“And love will set the halls aflame.”

I clench my teeth as the song returns, echoing around me, mocking me.

Be it a prophecy of ruin or poison wrapped in a lullaby, I refuse this destiny.

And I’ll gladly proclaim that to the Court’s faces.