"And it's a night," Iphe murmured to herself as the last echo of chatter faded down the hallway.
The once-alive grand hall now stood in quiet surrender. Tables bare, chairs stacked, the string quartet long gone. Her checklist was complete, every box ticked, staff said their goodbyes and everyone left with satisfied smiles. The event was a success. It always was.
She should have felt the usual satisfaction that came at the end of a well-run night, but she didn't.
She had spent the rest of the evening looking for a faded work shirt in a crowded hall and not finding it. She told herself it was to thank him. She knew that wasn't all it was.
She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and moved through the hallway, one hand dipping inside for her keys. Her fingers found the handkerchief instead. She lingered on it for a moment, remembering how his scent had wafted through the moment she put it to her nose, and how it had made her giddy.
"Hey, Superstar."
She jolted, nearly losing her grip on the bag. Mira materialized from the shadow of the corridor wall, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"You are going to kill me one day," Iphe said, hand pressed to her chest.
"One day. Not tonight." Mira fell into step beside her, looping an arm through hers. "Come on. It's late."
They stepped out onto the gravel path. The air hit cold and clean after the warmth of the hall, and the estate spread around them in the dark, bigger somehow at night than it ever felt during the day. Pine trees rose on either side, dense and still, moonlight pressing through the branches in long silver lines. Their footsteps were the only sound.
"No disasters," Iphe said. "That's a win."
Mira glanced sideways. "No disasters, huh? How about Mr. Hot-Ghost?"
Heat moved into Iphe's cheeks. "There's no Hot-Ghost."
"Mhmm." Mira's voice was pure theater. "A secret, hot, sexy ghost-lover with a sculpted body, powerful shoulders and deliciously ripped shape. Your words, not mine."
"Those were your words, Mira."
"And you didn't correct me." The grin widened. "So, tell me. Why did you look so flushed in the hall earlier?"
"A server knocked me over in the hall, but someone caught me before I hit the ground. That's all." she said.
"So, our hot ghost is also a knight in shining armor."
"There's no hot ghost," Iphe laughed. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and kept her eyes on the path, "He does all the heavy work around here. The lifting, the setup, and the worst shifts too. Never heard him say much since I started."
Mira's expression shifted immediately. "Bag boy? Alaric?"
"Bag boy?" Iphe repeated, her eyes narrowing at the nickname.
"Yes." Something in Mira's tone had already changed, the playfulness sitting differently now. "Did anything else happen?"
Iphe told her. He had caught her in the hall when she stumbled. Then later she had nearly walked into him in the service corridor carrying a stack of chairs. She had gotten a nosebleed — her headaches had been bad all evening, they sometimes did that — and he had given her his handkerchief before she could find her bearings.
She did not mention the way he had looked at her in the hall, the inch of distance, the way his hand had trembled before he pressed the handkerchief into her palm, or the vision she still couldn't explain. She kept it simple and surface and entirely true.
Mira was quiet for a moment after she finished. The easy warmth on her face had gone somewhere more careful.
"Iphe." She stopped walking. Iphe stopped with her. Mira turned to face her, and in the moonlight her expression was stripped of everything playful. "I need you to hear me. Stay away from him."
Iphe frowned. "Why? He helped me. Twice."
"I know he did." Mira's voice was steady and low. "And I'm not saying anything is wrong with that. But there are rules on this estate, rules that were here long before either of us arrived. Rules that don't get explained — they just get enforced." She held Iphe's gaze. "All men on this estate are off-limits. But Alaric—" She stopped. Held her breath. Like she was choosing her next words carefully. "Alaric is beyond off-limits. He is targeted." Her voice dropped further. "And if you get too close, it won't end in a conversation."
Iphe looked at her. At the fear sitting quietly behind her eyes, real and specific, the kind that came from knowing something rather than imagining it.
"What does that even mean? Who's targeting him?"
Mira's jaw tightened. For a moment she looked like she was going to answer, really answer. Then she looked around, at the pines around them, and she shook her head slowly.