The flat was quiet, except for the low murmur of kettle steam and the soft click of Zaire's rings as he poured tea into the mismatched cups. Dusken lay like a shadowy coil near the window, flicking his tail when the wind shifted oddly.
Niah sat cross-legged on the couch, her eyes following Zaire's every move.
"You're unusually calm today," she noted, eyeing him.
Zaire gave a slow, unreadable smile. "Because I'm planning something big."
She arched an eyebrow. "That's… not comforting."
He passed her a cup. "It's just a dinner."
Niah blinked. "Just dinner, seriously?"
"A small gathering," he said lightly. "To welcome Sylen back and to acknowledge your awakening. Something informal."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who are all coming for the dinner?"
"Dr Throne, Father Delran, a few trusted allies," he said. Then casually, as if it meant nothing, "…and Jules."
Niah nearly dropped the teacup.
"Zaire. Are you serious? Jules and Sylen in the same room? Together?"
"They met once," he said with perfect serenity. "And it was… memorable."
"You mean disastrous," narrowing her eyes at Zaire.
He sipped his tea. "Exactly. Which is why it's time to nudge the threads again."
She stared at him. "You're matchmaking."
"Hey, I'm just rewriting fate," he corrected.
"That's even worse!"
Zaire smiled faintly, like he already knew what would happen. "Now-now, will you invite her to dinner?" he asked.
Niah groaned, but the fond exasperation in her voice betrayed her. "You're lucky I like you."
Hearing this, Zaire started grinning even more with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
* * *
The little bell above the door of Wild Myth & Moss chimed as the late afternoon sun spilled across rows of chaotic-but-lovely bouquets. Jules moved like colour herself, apron dusted with petals, one braid escaping her bun, humming some indie pop cover under her breath.
"Jules," called a smooth voice, the tone just a little too polished, "tell me honestly, do I look devastatingly handsome next to these peonies or merely professionally enchanting?"
She rolled her eyes without turning. "Devastatingly narcissistic, Theo."
The tall man leaned lazily against the counter, white button-up unbuttoned just enough to be suspicious, holding a bouquet of indigo delphiniums.
"You wound me," he said with mock offense. "I come here, week after week, spending absurd amounts of money just to admire your artistry, and you mock me?"
Jules grinned. "I mock because you can take it. And because you're late for your lunch meeting again."
Theo clicked his tongue. "Ugh-Capitalism can wait. I'm here for the wildflowers and your witty disdain."
As he continued his dramatic monologue, her phone buzzed on the counter. She wiped her hands and picked it up.
NIAH:
Hey Jules!
Zaire's organizing a dinner tonight, a small gathering. I would love it if you came.
Please say yes?
Jules tilted her head. "Oh?"
"What is it?" Theo asked.
"A dinner invite from Niah," she said, smiling slowly. "Her boyfri—ugh. Her friend Zaire is hosting."
"Well, obviously you're going," Theo said, eyebrows lifting. "You get that look."
Jules gave him a sideways glance. "What look?"
"That 'I'm pretending I'm not curious, but I am' look." She chuckled. "It's probably going to be awkward."
"And awkward makes excellent entertainment. You better go." Jules stared at the message, thumb hovering.
"Ok then, I'll go," she muttered to herself. "What's the worst that could happen?"
* * *