#if i get seeds from my parlor palm i might try to get them to germinate in paper towels and if i can get them past the cotyledon stage

[toytulini]

i bet i could keep a fern alive if i was just growing it emersed in a tank, but i cant exactly take cuttings of ferns to root in water, and im Extremely Hesitant to try just Washing Off The Roots bc ive yet to get all the dirt off that way and i Really dont want dirt with god only knows what in it in my fish tank

[demon-scarecrow]

Spec/Demon ficlet

Written as a prompt from @waterwindow and @spellfireserpent

It’s cracky. There’s also smut so be warned and such.

Etrigan grinned, baring a row of too-sharp teeth as he flicked his tongue out, licking the blood and viscera from his talons. Sometimes being a "good guy" could be a great deal of fun, he considered as he looked over the field of slain low-level demons. The Spectre was more aloof, not a spatter having landed upon him since he did not wish it. He glanced over at the Rhymer who was covered in filth and fluids and gave a small huff of disapproval. "It is not necessary to throw yourself into things so much. It shows a lack of flair." The demon looked entirely nonplussed as he finished licking his claws clean, now the only part of him which was not caked in demonic blood. The grin never faded from his face as he slowly crossed the field to his current comrade-in-arms. "You heavenly types are all such a bore, though I wouldn't have pegged you as having trouble with gore." Etrigan chuckled as he pressed himself up against the Spectre, mostly in order to smear the divine being with the same blood that coated him. "The time for fighting I'd say is done, let us instead have a different kind of fun." The grin on his face grew even wider as he spread his palm against the Vengeance of God's chest. The thought of rutting with him and staining him with his demonic seed was quite tempting. Although the Spectre was more than a little annoyed at the demon sullying him with base demon blood, he couldn't help but smirk a bit at Etrigan's offer. He found the yellow skinned Rhymer both infuriating and enthralling. A demon who more often than not found himself allied with the forces of good. Hooking a gloved finger under the creature's chin, he tilted his face upward and bent his head to kiss the infernal being. "Indeed. Just take care with your claws. I haven't the same taste for pain as you do." With a hearty laugh, Etrigan allowed the Spectre to press his mouth to his. The divine being nipping in an almost playful manner at his lower lip, which drew a soft growl that might have been mistaken for a purr from the demon. Sharp claws made quick work of the pair of green shorts that the Spectre wore, leaving light scratches against pale skin. This made the Spectre pull back and regard his partner with a slight quirked brow as he slid a strong hand around Etrigan's throat. "What did I just say about being careful with your claws?" The demon gripped the Spectre by the hips and ground his still clad, but rapidly stiffening lower half against him, lust lighting his blazing red eyes. "That you did and no mistake. I've been a bad boy and my punishment I'll take!" He pressed his neck harder against the Spectre's hand and the spirit shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "You are incorrigible. But if punishment is what you crave, that is my specialty." Releasing the demon's throat he made a gesture at the wrist, flicking his hand and banishing Etrigan's clothing, as well as instantly cleaning him up as he found the thought of coupling with him while he was so filthy vile. Etrigan gave him a lightly annoyed look as he had been looking forward to making the Spectre equally as filthy as him, but he would take enough satisfaction in fucking his partner among the corpses of his slain enemies. The Spectre kissed the demon again, more roughly this time, biting and sucking at his mouth without mercy as Etrigan opened to him quite willingly. Then with zero warning the spirit of vengeance had shoved the demon roughly to his knees before him. Etrigan looked up at him with a hungry look. "Blasphemy's always fun to do, I'd be glad to worship you." The look that Spec shot Etrigan was positively murderous, but rather than destroying the demon kneeling at his feet he merely gripped him by the finned ears and forced himself down Etrigan's throat. "If you bite me, I'm removing your teeth until we're done here." He threatened, but that was the furthest thing from Etrigan's mind as he wrapped his forked tongue around the Spectre's shaft, swallowing him as saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying himself. The Spectre kept his grip on the demon's finned ears, pulling him down onto his shaft and fucking his mouth with little regard to his comfort or pleasure. Of course Etrigan was able to see to his own enjoyment, one clawed hand gripping the spirit's hip and the other slipping between his own legs to stroke himself as he licked and sucked the Spectre's erection. For the moment he was being careful about his claws as he gripped his lover, but the tips of them were pressed just enough to indent his flesh and tease him with the knowledge that he was absolutely capable of rending his skin if he felt like it. "You're pushing it, Etrigan. Behave or I'll have to restrain you." Spectre warned, and Etrigan grunted around him, but did shift his fingers so that only the pads touched his flesh. Meanwhile Etrigan continued to stroke himself in tandem with the rhythm that the Spectre had taken to fuck his throat. He lapped at him eagerly, wanting to drive him into a frenzy. There was just something about a holy being losing himself to lust that was just so enticing. The Spectre had settled into a steady rhythm, sliding his hands from Etrigan's ears to the top of his head, stroking his scalp and rewarding him for behaving with soft touches, even as he continued to thrust hard and fast and heedless of Etrigan's comfort down his throat. The two grunted as Etrigan pleasured the Spectre, the both of them already with blood flowing--so to speak--from the battle beforehand. Etrigan purred around the Spectre as he felt his thrusts becoming more desperate and erractic, feeling the very few shreds of self-control that the spirit had to begin with eroding with each flick of the demon's tongue. It wasn't long before Spectre was throwing his head back and shoving Etrigan's head down onto him as he came, his cloak flowing as though caught in a gale wind as Etrigan stroked himself to completion as well. The mingling of their two essenses beginning to become more of a physical thing as the Spectre's cloak enfolded the demon and they began to merge. In the next moment the combined being reeled on it's heels and looked down at itself. Pale yellow skin wrapped in a green cloak as the physical forms of the Spectre and Etrigan had combined into one. And that was less disturbing to them than suddenly having four dissenting voices in their head as Jim and Jason stirred from those deep dark places that they resided while their other halves handled business and demanded to know just what the hell had happened. The combined being wavered as it took a couple of steps, trying to find a happy medium between the damned and the divine. "This is not something that should be. We must separate." The being shook it's head again and answered itself in a deep gravelly voice that reverberated with unspeakable power. "Perhaps if we revert to something more...human." As both beings were mystical and had the potential of shifting their appearance in some ways either through holy or demonic magic, the flux of their beings might have had something to do with it. But Jason and Jim were quite a bit more solid than either of them. The combined being closed it's eyes and blurred slightly as it tried to separate into the two men. Unfortunately, there was still only one when the attempt was finished. Jason/Jim--Jimson? Jam?--Looked down at himselves. The two gingers were quite similar in appearance so at least everything looked mostly familiar, but felt anything but. One eye of red and one of green, hair shifting in a gradient from a bright almost orange to a deep red with the familiar white streak still in the same place as it was on both men. "I think...we might need help" Whether it was Jim or Jason who voiced the thought was hard to tell, but all four personalities encased in the single form were in agreement. They even were able to concur on whom they should call upon first. Madame Xanadu knew all of them quite intimately and was extremely versed in the occult. If there was an answer, they could only hope she would possess it. Summoning a portal, the combined being exited the battlefield and stepped through to Madame Xanadu's parlor, ignoring the fact that he was still completely naked in his haste to correct what Spectre and Etrigan had accidentally caused. Fortunately for them, the fortune teller was more than used to both Jason and Jim's unusual procliveties so the only thing they got was a raised brow and a rather amused smile. "You seem to have gotten yourselves into trouble. And this is why you should stick to threesomes with me. I would never have let you do something so stupid. Let me guess, you're stuck?" The combined man glowered at the woman "Don't tease. This wasn't our fault. Talk to the other two." Upon finding out that the current situation was the result of Spectre and Etrigan, two beings who absolutely should have known better, Xanadu broke into a fit of hysteric laughter. Far less amused was Jam--which was what the Jason and Jim hybrid had decided to refer to himself as for the moment--who just stood and glowered. "It's not funny." He insisted. "Oh no, it very much is. You're just on the wrong side of the joke to appreciate it, my dears!" The woman continued to cackle, seemingly unable to stop herself. Jam ran an exasperated hand through his hair. Fortunately it seemed that they might not have to rely on Xanadu solely as the Phantom Stranger materialized, taken aback by what he saw and sensed before him. "What have you done?" He asked aghast. "It wasn't me! Us! Argh! It was Moonface and Ettie! They couldn't fucking well keep it in their pants and now...well look at us!" Jam was starting to get more than a little angry and frustrated by the situation. Each side of the combined being was used to his mystical other half causing them headaches, but this was far more of a pain than their usual antics. It was bad enough having to share a body with their other halves, but at least they were used to getting their own form back afterward. A very faint smirk could be seen turning up the corner of the Stranger's mouth as he regarded the man. "You should calm yourself." In the background, Xanadu was STILL laughing. "Can we go somewhere else and discuss this? Someone is not being helpful." Jam shot a pointed look at Xanadu, which only sent her into another fit of giggles. "Oh, I'm so sorry, but this really is hilarious. You two idiots really get yourselves into the most ridiculous situations!" Jam grunted in annoyance and turned to the Stranger. "Get us out of here and tell us how to fix this." "As you wish..." With a wave of his hand the Stranger had transported them away and was still smirking. Oh, he was never ever going to let the two of them live this down. "Perhaps there's also something else you should be concerned about" The Stranger's blank white eyes flicked down to glance at Jam's uncovered groin. The combined man just rolled his eyes and groaned more. The Jason portion of the creation seemed more okay with this than Jim would have preferred. "Does this happen a lot?" He asked himself, and the shared form nodded. "Constantly. You're lucky that Spectre doesn't have the same sense of humor as Etrigan." Jim was more than a little disturbed. "That sounds completely awful." The Stranger interjected by raising a finger and clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should focus on the problem at hand." With another slight wave Jam was provided with a set of clothes. "Thank you. So...can't you just...do your weird Stranger mumbo jumbo and fix us?" It wasn't hard to figure out which side that was coming from as Jam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think if he could do it, so could the Spectre." His eyes narrowed for a moment as he considered something. "Etrigan! If this is your idea of a joke..." Somewhere inside the deep dark depths of the shared mind the demon roused himself and insisted that he had naught to do with their current predicament, shifting the blame to the Spectre, who took offense and very soon Jam was holding his head in pain as the two mystical powerhouses fought within him. "This is the worst thing ever! How do I make it stop!" The Stranger looked at the being before him and gave them a slightly apologetic expression. "I'm afraid I did not appear in order to aid you with your current situation. Your attention is needed elsewhere." Jam just stared at him, mouth agape. "You have GOT to be joking. I can't do anything...like this!" "Then it is fortunate you two are not the ones I need." The ginger haired man glared at the Stranger. "Nobody is doing anything until we are ourselves again. So you'd better start thinking of solutions." The Stranger looked quite unimpressed by the threat. "And I shall. I will think of one while you deal with Belial, who even now is near to breaking out of Hell and manifesting on this plane of reality." As much as Jam hated to admit it, that was not something that could be ignored. Still, they didn't feel they were in any condition to deal with it in their current state, and letting out a combined Spectre and Etrigan was likely not the best idea. "Then you deal with him." "I cannot. You know that I am forbidden from interfering in--" "Oh DAMN your excuses! We don't want to hear it!" Jam interrupted with a burst of anger. The Stranger bowed his head slightly. "I must apologize, but I will endeavor to have a solution when you have completed your task." Flinging forth his hand he stared at the combined being. "Now show your other halves and do what must be done!" The pocket dimension where the Stranger had brought them faded as Jim and Jason receded into the background and the combined form of Etrigan and Spectre--who Etrigan had decided should refer to themselves as Spectrigan--was sent to deal with Belial. The archfiend was, doubtless, expecting someone to come and stand against him as he made his way toward the exit to Hell, most likely even expecting his son to be one of them, but what he saw before him was certainly not anything he had expected. Spectrigan merged the features of the two beings so that both were discernable within and Belial folded his arms and frowned. "Either the Spirit of Vengeance has developed a very poor sense of humor, or my son has forgotten that he is not yet so old that I will not thrash him for being foolhardy. Whichever it is, I care not. But you will not stall me." Spectrigan straightened itself, both halves of it insulted by Belial's words. "Neither. I am both your son and the Spectre. And neither intends to allow you to pass." Belial's eyes widened for a moment and then he growled, a tendril of hellfire curling from his nostrils in his rage. "What you are is an abomination! No son of mine is going to be a feather fucker!" If Spectrigan was insulted before, he was enraged now. Normally at least the portion that was Etrigan would have drawn out the fight to increase his own enjoyment, now he was too angry to even think of allowing Belial to stand. The combined being flung itself at the demon lord, demonic claws out and holy fire blazing from it's eyes. Belial was knocked back by the force of the combined assault. More than a little disturbed by how well his son and the Spectre worked in tandem. He attempted to put up a defense, but Spectrigan gave him no chance to mount a proper countermeasure. The being pressed it's advantage, showing no quarter to the demon lord. While it bit and clawed and projected a mixture of holy and hellflame from it's hands, the very landscape around them also twisted to the Spectre's power and joined in the attack. Stalagmites and stalagtites shifted and twisted themselves to pin the archfiend, elongating to sharp points and skewering through his flesh, pinning him in place. Once he was sufficiently subdued, it focused it's powers and knowledge of Hell to cast Belial away into Masak Mavdil, where it would take him ages to pull himself out. And that would be only after he had healed from the multitude of damage that he had taken. Still broiling over with rage and the urge to battle, Spectrigan took it's leave of the Hellscape around it and returned to where the Stranger had been. Leveling a look of great anger at the wandering spirit. "Belial is dealt with. Now you'd better have an answer for how we're to fix this!" While Spectrigan stared at the Stranger with blazing eyes, the other man remained calm. "In point of fact, I have. I called in someone who should be able to solve this for you both. He should be here presently." The Phantom Stranger began to fade from view, Spectrigan holding out a hand and calling after him. "Don't dare leave me! Who did you call you miserable bastard?" "ME" A single word was spoken behind them and they turned, although they needn't have. There was only one being in the cosmos that either of them knew who could put that much power into a single syllable. "Michael. Are we to assume that the Stranger informed you of the situation?" The archangel nodded, keeping any opinions he had about what had transpired between them to himself. "I HAVE BEEN INFORMED. AND I CAN ASSIST YOU. BUT PLEASE. DO NOT EVER DO THAT AGAIN. THE ANGELIC AND THE DEMONIC WERE NOT MEANT TO CONSORT." Reaching out his powerful arms, he took the combined being by the shoulders and pulled. The Spectre and Etrigan howled as they were separated. Michael was being kind enough to aid them, but he was not so soft as to make sure that it didn't hurt. Otherwise they would learn nothing. When it was done, Michael looked at the two separated entities and nodded. "IT IS DONE. SEE THAT YOU ARE MORE CAREFUL IN THE FUTURE." Etrigan spoke up, jostling the Spectre with his arm. "For your help thanks I owe thee, but as for who's to blame look to him and not me!" The Spectre turned to look at the demon with death reflecting in his eyes. "You blame me? How dare you, pitspawn! If it was anything it was your corrupted influence that caused the problem!" Growling, Etrigan bared his teeth and little wisps of hellfire slid form between them. "Stupid spirit reel in thy pride! For this the blame I'll not abide!" Losing his temper, no matter how hard Jim tried to hold him back, the Spectre leapt at Etrigan and knocked him back, grappling with the beast. Within Etrigan Jason screamed for him to just, for once in his life, let it go, but the demon would not heed him and fought back, biting and scratching at the disgraced angelic being. "IT IS NEVER WISE TO LET YOUR PASSIONS REIGN. YOU MUST HOLD YOURSELF IN CHECK LEST YOU LOSE YOURSELF." But Michael's warning came too late. The two had already remerged, though that didn't stop the fight. Spectrigan was still rolling on the ground punching itself and shouting threats and curses. Michael just sighed and shook his golden locks, walking away until the two had calmed down and were ready to behave.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Please please please could you please write more Hisame drabbles ?? Preferably HisaKiki, but any scenario with him would be wonderful as sin, really ꒰♡⌯́ॢ³⌯̀ॢ꒱ I love your writing style (it’s beautifully vivid and somewhat lyrical at times, but not overly descriptive), and you come up with the most witty dialogue — which makes your fics swoon-worthy, especially when it comes to a certain sarcastic, snarky, irresistible, charming noble! So pLeAsE

This day was writtenin the stars before Kiki Seiran even took her first step.

The court, hergoverness, her distant cousins, and spurred suitors alike - all of them hadbent their heads towards hers at some point these last twenty and two years,murmuring words in her ears that unfurled like magic, like prophecy: It will come to pass.

She always knew that she would be the earth inwhich the Seiran line must be sown. It was a sacred trust; a duty; a contractbetween her blood and the world that was as inevitable as the rising of the sunand the setting of the moon. It gave a certainty to her future in the way sofew things could be anymore. The only thing that was not was the identity of who wouldplant the seed.

She knew that.Accepted that. Hated that.

And yet there is a certain art to meetingslike this that she has come to appreciate, a grace that she has come to expectof those who sat at the other end of the table. For years, when it was all butwritten in gold embossed letterhead, Kiki danced words around His Majesty Izanaand, before him, Queen Regent Haruto. 

How she longs for those simpler days. The daysbefore she had touched the fringes of independence. Before she had known the weave and warp of softer emotions and how both might have been wrapped around her for alifetime.

Because now, the solicitor looks between hercarefully bored expression and the… gentleman her opposite, happily chatteringaway between bites of canapé – crustless cucumber sandwiches and curls of curedsalmon, little bites of goat cheese whipped atop crackers and sides of pureedfruit – with an ever increasing sense of bewilderment and-

Adoption. Why had no one considered adoption?

“Of course, if you are going to take lovers, please do me the courtesy of choosing those that looks like me,darling.”

Kiki’s left eye twitches, and she resists theurge to press it down, to close it, to do something that he wouldn’t notice.For each time Hisame spots it, his expression grows more fond, his voice moregrating, and his… terms of endearment gain a degree of obnoxiousness that Obiwould only seek to recreate.

“I won’t begrudge you. I am a reasonable man,after all, my pet,” he croons, hand pressed to chest - precisely the pointshe would like to run her sword through. Pity the solicitor insisted that sheleave it outside during this initial round of negotiations; Mr. Bartley was thesensitive sort, apparently. “For example, that rogue knight that follows thePrince’s mistress around would be acceptable. A bit too foreign, ofcourse, but we can always-”

Surely as the Lord ofSeiran, father would know somebody with a suitable head on their shoulders.Perhaps a lesser lord with one too many children. Someone bright. Someoneskilled. Someone who had not tried to force her hand in matrimony.

“-unless the rumors are true and the second Prince has taken you to bed. In which case, a royal bastard would be aboon for us. The more like a winter painting the babe appears, the better!”

Maybe she should speak to the King. With howlong he has delayed his own marriage, perhaps he would be compassionate to herplight. Between his backing and the leverage her father had surely gained overdecades at court, she could argue for an alternative.

“-but do bear in mind my pride, my love. Andkeep me in good comfort. An allowance, coupled with a townhouse in Wistal aswell as a country home would be ideal for once you are ready to put me out topasture.”

Kiki sighs somewhere deep in her chest.Doubtful. But there is no harm in trying. Even if Hisame discovered herattempts at freedom, he wouldn’t be too terribly shocked. Affronted, maybe, butmostly for show. He was always good at that.

“-by the by, do you think that you could ask His Highness if we could use the family’s summer house for a engagement soiree? I am certain thatthey would be amicable to a dear friend of the crown such as yourself.”

They’ve only known each other since they werechildren after all, and she had bruised his ego worse than a simple brokenengagement ever could. This time should be no different-

“Lady Seiran?”Mr. Bartley prods delicately andKiki blinks, glancing at the aging man with his glossy crown, thick darkmustache, and eyebrows seeking to overtake the edges of his glasses. 

She is confused, theprolonged silence of the room deafening with no sign that it will soon befilled, and- Oh.

Hisame stopped talking.

Those eyes, just a shade deeper than hersglints from across the table, eyebrows raised while his lips press to the edgeof a goblet and-

A question. He must have. Asked her aquestion.

“I’ll, ah-” She clears her throat. “I’llsee what I can do about that.”

“Excellent!” Hisame’s lips smack against the edgeof glass with a sigh and he slowly, deliberately, places it down on the table. “Youlooked piqued, my love. It’s been such a long day. Perhaps we should end allthis lawyering for now.”

Kiki stares. To the solicitor, she says, “If it is no trouble?”

Mr. Bartley is already gathering up his pens, sweepingpapers and bottles of ink into his gladstone. “Not at all, not at all. Weshall resume tomorrow then?”

“Naturally.” She sits up straighter. It wouldbe easier to deal with Hisame’s prattle in the morning than the late afternoonwhen her energy has waned. “Could you be here after breakfast?”

“Ah, my love. So eager.” Hisame sweeps to herside, hand already resting on her shoulder, and Kiki starts. She hadn’t even seen him get up. “Onecannot rush these things too quickly in the day. So many… fine details to workout. Best to let the morning meal settle a little.”

Kiki’s lips draw in a thin line, but Mr.Bartley smiles and nods most amicably. “Yes, yes. Of course, Lord Lugis. I’llarrive at the same hour as today.”

She swears she sees the fork of Hisame’s tonguewhen he replies, “Marvelous.”

Kiki’s jaw twitches, the only sign of herdiscomfort as the elderly man stands up, cracks his back with a, and graces her with a nod before extending his hand to her fiance.

Hisame clasps it with a serpents smile, hisother hand pressing down just enough uponher shoulder to keep her seated. “Safe travels, Mr. Bartley.”

~ ~ ~

The silence is deep after he leaves, cutting along the samegrooves that the late afternoon sun casts across the parlor. Kiki watches condensation gather on the surface of the ice bucket. A single drop slices through the fog when ice collapses in on itself within its core.

“Are you quite done with your little performance?” she asks, quiet, staring at nothing but the remains of the day scattered on the table before her.

Hisame wouldn’t be Hisame without an scandalized gasp. “Why, my darling-”

“Don’t.” She grits her teeth. “Don’t call methat.”

“What would you prefer?” he grins. “My love?My sweetling? My buttercup? I quite like that last one. It suits-”

“None of them,” she sighs, forehead fallinguntil it finds her palms. “Just… would it be so hard for you to call me thesame you’ve always called me before?”

“Ah, so impersonal!” Hisame chirps, reachingover her shoulder to scoop up another cucumber bite. “Everyone else has anickname for you. As your husband-”

“You are not my husband,” she corrects. Whenhe stares down at her, lips twitching in amusement around the snack he poppedinto his mouth all in one go, and she corrects, “…yet.”

He tilts his head, staring at her thoughtfullyas he chews. Something sticky and cold slithers down her spine the longer helooks upon her. “Kiki,” he says, swallowing. “If I didn’t know any better, Iwould think that you didn’t want to marry me.”

“Whatever would give you that impression?” shebites, pushing back against her chair. It comes up short, jarring where Hisame’sfoot blocks the leg and her escape.

“We’ve certainly had our disagreements in thepast-” he begins.

Kiki snorts.

“-but we were children then. We’ve bothgrown. Made our own names for ourselves, free from our family. You as a Knight to the Prince and myself as the Captain of the Guard.” He sucks his teeth once, looking past her. “I had thought that we might have both come to understand the reality of our positions in society. The situation with the Bergatts simply… rushed the issue. Surely, youcannot think of a better match than me?”

Kiki glares, searching desperately for fault in hislogic. And it pains her to admit that there is no one in the Kingdom of Clarines that would be better suited for her.

Save one. 

Ignoring the sting in her chest, she replies, “There is always the Prince.”

A laugh starts out of him. “Be reasonable,” he exclaims, eyes glittering. Kiki’s hand again itches for her sword. “As if you would subject yourself to the title of royalty. You wouldhave even fewer freedoms than you do now!”

“As if you would permit me any freedoms uponmarriage, contract or no,” she states, pushing back against her chair again. Hismouth parts in surprise, and this time he pulls it back for her, letting her gracefullyrise from her chair.

“As much as you would like to think it of me,I am not simple minded,” he says, his voice lowering to something approachinggentle. “I would be your consort. A voice to amplify your own in courtshould the council prefer a cock, but you hold the blood, and therefore thereins. I am simply… looking out for my long term interests. Which might as well as yours.”

She appraises him slowly, and in the soft glowof the afternoon, she might find him sincere. Even charming. And yet-

She knows better.

“You have only ever looked out for yourself,Hisame.”

His grin becomes so broad that it wrinkles hiseyes. “Ah, you caught me!” he gasps, throwing himself back as if struck. “Fiendthat I am. How ever would I gained a position as captain or, lo, such a lovely fiancé in a fair way?”

She tugs her hand back sharply when he reaches for it,stepping away. “I tire of your voice,” she declares, never taking her eyes off of him. He’s gone far too still, far too intent to turn her back to him. “I wish to retire forthe day. Allow one of the servants to show you the door.”

“But my love,” he says, his voice droppingin a sibilant hiss that freezes the blood in her veins. “I was hoping todiscuss one other thing before our next meeting.”

Kiki swallows. Inclines her chin. “We can discuss it in front of Mr. Bartley.”

“Ah, but it is a rather morbid subject. Mr. Bartley might find it quite gauche to discuss in front of a lady such as yourself. Women have, as he says, such a delicate constitution.”

He’s baiting her. Like he always has. Like he always will. And she refuses to fall for it. “Go ahead, then. If you are so concerned.”

Hisame takes a step closer to her and it takes every inch of her willpower to not give ground. “The matter of inheritance.” His voice is low, so very low. She almost leans forward to catch it. “Should one of us…meet an untimely end.”

Sweat prickles her hairline. “This is a bunch of nonsense,” she replies, but there is something there. Something beneath her skin that turns at the potential of reality, at the knowledge that Hisame rarely speaks so seriously out of turn. “You’vewitnessed Seiran security first hand. We would not be so easily taken fromwithout.”

He laughs, flipping his bangs from his face. “That is not what I am concerned about!”

“Then what are you?”

“Kiki. Darling.” His voice is a hiss against her ear, fingers lightly, delicately wrapping around her elbow. “You’ve never been one for doe eyed ignorance. And neither of us are idiots.”

Breathe, her brain hisses, steadying her when pins and needles prick upon her skin. Steady. “The people of this land would never stage a coup.”

“You haven’t been home in a long, long time,” he raises one eyebrow, thumb brushing the crease of her arm. She shivers in response, stomach clenching, but it’s not entirely… unpleasant. “Things have changed while you were out gallivanting the country with your Knight and his little Prince.Things that your father would never be so stupid to write in his correspondenceto you.”

The ice in her blood reaches her heart. “Everyone knows I had no choice but go.”

“Do they?” He steps in closer, so close that she can feel the brush of his hair against the side of her face, can feel the shape of his lips on the shell of her ear. “And how might they view theonly person who might rule Seiran- a helpless daughter- was at the beck and call of the throne?”

Eyelashes fluttering open (she doesn’t even remember them closing), she schools her face.Freezes it. Preserves it forever in stillness. And pulls away, out of Hisame’s grasp. “I believe in my people. They would never turn against me.”

Hisame drops his eyes, the ghost of a smirk still present on his lips. Sweeping his topper upon his crown, he nods once. “We’ll see, my dove. We’ll see.”

She never even hears him close the door.