The st stop of the tour led us down a winding stairwell, tucked behind a nearly hidden panel beneath a rusted set of armor. I might’ve missed it entirely if Jax hadn’t pressed his palm to the wall and muttered something under his breath. With a soft click, the panel creaked open.

  I shot him a look. “Is there anything about you that isn’t unnecessarily dramatic?”

  “Rude,” Jax replied, smirking. “This is the best part.”

  The steps groaned beneath our boots as we descended into a dim tunnel, the air warm with the scent of candle wax, old wood, and something sharper. Laughter echoed ahead, followed by the clinking of gsses and a rowdy cheer.

  We stepped into the underground lounge, and I stopped short.

  It was nothing like the guildhall above. This pce felt more like a rowdy tavern. Wooden beams stretched low across the ceiling, and deep red tapestries dulled the stone walls. A long bar ran along one side, and mismatched tables sprawled in messy clusters. Guild members slouched in chairs, tossing dice, shuffling cards, arm-wrestling, and drinking with abandon. A few waved at Jax. Most just stared at me.

  Not at my face.

  More like who let the child in?

  “Hey,” someone called. “Jax, you get cursed and turn into a baby again?”

  I sighed, muttering, “I should’ve stayed upstairs.”

  The crowd was already stirring, sensing blood in the water.

  “Wait, is this the girl?”

  “You mean the one he’s always talking about when he’s drunk?”

  “Ohhhh,” someone said. “She’s real?”

  I froze. “What.”

  “I said nothing,” Jax cut in quickly, beelining for the bar. “Absolutely nothing. You all drink too much. I say weird things. Ignore them.”

  I followed, eyes narrowed, but before I could press him, someone shoved a mug into my hand.

  “You drink?”

  I stared down at the amber liquid, sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “I—no. I mean, I’ve never—”

  “Aw, come on. One won’t kill you.”

  “Unless it’s from Mi,” Jax added, nodding toward the bartender.

  The woman behind the bar raised an eyebrow. “Excuse you. My mixes are perfectly safe. Mostly.”

  I hesitated, sniffing the drink cautiously. Esther had always warned me.

  Alcohol dulls your mind, Dawn. That’s when people get hurt.

  And I’d always listened. She was the graceful one. The careful one. Me? Not so much.

  “I shouldn’t,” I said.

  Jax was already knocking back his own.

  “Just a sip,” he coaxed. “Welcome to the underworld.”

  I tightened my grip on the mug. Just a sip. Just enough to prove I could handle myself.

  I took a sip and immediately coughed.

  “It burns,” I wheezed.

  Jax grinned. “Were you expecting juice?”

  “Shut up.”

  But… I didn’t hate it. There was warmth in it, something sharp that flushed my cheeks and numbed my tongue. I tried another, slower sip.

  Nearby, a new game of cards was starting. Someone waved a hand. “Hey, shortstuff! You py?”

  “Not with that nickname.”

  “You win, we call you Tallstuff.”

  Jax looked too pleased. “Could be worse.”

  “Fine,” I said, slipping into the seat. “But only one round.”

  They taught me fast, a twisted version of poker using symbols instead of suits. The coins on the table were more for show than real stakes, but the energy was fast, competitive, drunk. I paid attention. I always did. Reading people was something I’d learned long before I could read books.

  Ten minutes in, I called a bluff that left the table groaning.

  “Beginner’s luck,” someone muttered.

  “Or you all suck,” I shot back, deadpan.

  Laughter erupted. Jax leaned back beside me, cradling his second drink, looking entirely too proud.

  ~

  The first sign was Jax’s voice echoing strangely.

  The second was the way the cards started swimming, like fish beneath a pond surface. I blinked hard. No, no. Still cards. Probably.

  I rubbed my eyes. My cheeks were on fire. “How many of these did I drink?”

  Jax raised a brow. “Six.”

  I stared. “Six what?”

  “Shots.”

  “That’s illegal.”

  He snorted. “You drank them yourself, lightweight.”

  My limbs felt like overcooked noodles. The table had moved. Or I had.

  “Why didn’t anyone stop me?” I asked the table, betrayed.

  “You looked confident,” one guy shrugged. “Didn’t think baby sips would knock you out.”

  “I am perfectly coherent,” I decred, pointing seriously at no one. “And also I am tall!”

  “To Tallstuff!” someone cried, raising a mug.

  Jax leaned over, trying not to ugh. “Having fun?”

  “You… are a menace.”

  He gave a dramatic bow. “Takes one to know one.”

  I tried to retort but hiccupped instead. Oh no.

  I cpped a hand over my mouth, mortified, and waved vaguely. “Cards are stupid. Let’s do something else. Like… like…”

  I blinked hard. What was I saying?

  “Like sword fights,” I finished, very seriously.

  The table howled.

  “She wants a duel?”

  “Get her a butter knife!”

  “Make it two! Jax can defend his honor!”

  “I will absolutely cut you with a spoon,” I threatened.

  Jax leaned closer, grinning. “You alright there, killer?”

  His face was doing something, not melting, exactly, but blurring around the edges.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered. “Just… my brain is vibrating.”

  “Maybe you should take a break.”

  “No.” I reached out, missed the table entirely, and thunked my hand into someone’s empty mug. “Okay maybe.”

  “Come on,” Jax said, standing. “Before you actually duel someone.”

  I took his hand and immediately forgot how walking worked. My knees wobbled the wrong way and I nearly facepnted. Jax caught me around the waist.

  “Ohhh nooo,” I groaned. “This is humiliating.”

  “This,” he said, ughter in his voice, “is hirious.”

  He half-guided, half-dragged me away from the table. The others cheered as we passed. My feet tried their best, but my brain had long since checked out.

  At the edge of the lounge, I leaned into his shoulder. The floor couldn’t be trusted anymore. “Hey,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I’m dying.”

  “You’re not dying.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’d notice.”

  I turned my face into his arm, whispering with solemn gravity, “Tell Esther I regret nothing.”

  Jax chuckled. “Okay, okay. Let’s get you water before you decre war on the bar stools.”

  “I’d win.”

  “I believe you.”

  He helped me into a booth in the corner. The ceiling was still spinning, but I felt warm. Safe. Maybe it was the drink. Or maybe it was that Jax hadn’t let go of my hand.

  He sat across from me, keeping a slight distance but watching me closely, like I was a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out. Still holding my hand.

  “You’re not gonna fight anyone with spoons, right?” he asked, smirking.

  I pouted. “I’ll fight whoever I want with a spoon, Jax. You’re not the boss of me.”

  I tried to lift my mug again and stared at the empty space like I’d forgotten what hands were for.

  “You’re cute when you’re drunk,” Jax said, too casually.

  I blinked. “I’m cute?” My voice squeaked slightly. Great. Mortified.

  “Yeah.” His grin widened. “Cute in a ‘definitely going to end up in trouble’ kind of way.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not in trouble.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  I crossed my arms. “I will.”

  We sat in silence. Not awkward, just... there. My eyelids felt heavy, and my thoughts floated like zy clouds.

  Then my gaze drifted to the door.

  Arty. Right. Arty was coming.

  Panic fluttered in my chest. I tried to sit up straighter, but the booth held me like a soft trap.

  “You good?” Jax asked.

  “No,” I said too fast. “I’m—no. I need to... what was I saying?”

  “You need to stop drinking before you start telling everyone your life story.”

  Too te, probably. I felt like I might cry, which was absurd. I never cried.

  “You need water,” Jax said, already standing. “Stay here. I’ll grab some.”

  I nodded, useless. When he returned, I was staring at my hands like they didn’t belong to me.

  The water was cold and grounding. I drank deeply.

  “Slow,” Jax warned.

  I grumbled but listened. I had no other choice.

  “Arty’s going to think I’m an idiot, isn’t she?” I muttered, slouching further. “She’ll see me like this and I’ll look... ridiculous.”

  Jax shrugged. “She’s an acquaintance. You don’t even know her that well.”

  “Still.” I rubbed my face. “I can’t look like a fool in front of a noble.”

  Jax’s lips twitched. “Then you might want to sober up before she gets here.”

  I groaned. “I should go upstairs. Get myself together.”

  He chuckled softly, but his voice was gentle. “Good idea. I’ll help you up. Just... no more drinking, okay?”

  I nodded, clutching the water like it might save me.

  I could do this. I could make it upstairs. Pull myself together.

  I wouldn’t let her see me like this.

  Jax didn’t hesitate. He rose from the booth, reached across the table, and gently coaxed me to my feet. Or, tried to. My legs had apparently filed for retirement.

  “Alright,” he said with a chuckle, “looks like this is a carry situation.”

  “No,” I groaned, immediately flushing. “I can walk.”

  “You wobbled like a baby deer standing on stilts. Let me py the hero just this once.”

  Before I could argue further, he slipped an arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me with practiced ease. My hands instinctively curled into the colr of his jacket, and I made a sound somewhere between a protest and a whimper.

  “This is humiliating,” I muttered, pressing my face into his shoulder.

  “You’ve said that three times now. You’re going for a record.”

  The guild lounge buzzed behind us with ughter and music, but it all felt distant as he carried me toward the back hall. The air grew quieter, the light dimmer. Jax moved smoothly despite my weight, like he’d done this before. Which, frankly, was a little concerning.

  I peeked up at him through a curtain of hair that had fallen into my face. His jaw was sharp in the low light, his expression surprisingly soft. The flickering nterns made his eyes look... strange.

  No, not strange.

  Gold.

  I blinked hard. Not just hazel or brown like I’d always assumed. In this light, his eyes shimmered gold. Like the st sliver of sunlight on a coin. Like the gods had dipped their fingers into his irises just to see what would happen.

  “You have really pretty eyes,” I said, far too loud and far too honest.

  He stopped in his tracks. “What?”

  I immediately buried my face back into his shoulder. “Forget I said that.”

  “No, no.” He tilted his head, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “I said your eyes were pretty.”

  “Which are a part of my face. Which is attached to the rest of me. Ergo—”

  “You’re insufferable.”

  “And you’re drunk.”

  I groaned again and tried to slide out of his arms. He held me tighter.

  “Don’t even try. You’ll just end up face-first in the floorboards.”

  “Maybe I deserve that.”

  He ughed, deep and low. “Well, you are the one who challenged half the lounge to a duel with a spoon.”

  “That was completely justified.”

  “Absolutely,” he said, adjusting his grip as he nudged open a side door with his boot. The hallway upstairs was quiet, lined with old sconces and a musty scent of aged stone. “But just so you know, you ever call my eyes pretty again, I’m putting it in writing and framing it above my bed.”

  I groaned into his jacket. “Please stop talking.”

  He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest. “No promises.”

  The world tilted gently as he carried me up the narrow back stairwell toward the upper rooms. My eyelids were heavy again, but not like it was before. Just... tired but safe.

  Jax’s arms were warm. His voice was softer now, his usual sarcasm muted at the edges.

  “Almost there,” he said quietly.

  “I really am sorry,” I mumbled, not even sure what I was apologizing for.

  He didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled through his nose, something between a sigh and a ugh, and shook his head like he wanted to toss the moment aside before it settled.

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured. “It’s just one night.”

  But something in his voice betrayed him. A hesitation, barely there. Like a thread pulled taut beneath its silk.

  My cheek rested against the warmth of his shoulder. His scent was smoke and cedar and something wild beneath. Safe, in a dangerous sort of way.

  And for a moment, a small, reckless part of me wanted to believe this could st. That maybe someone like me could be carried somewhere better. That hands like his wouldn’t let go.

  But this was Araes.

  And Araes had a way of punishing softness. Of cracking warmth open until it bled.

  So I let myself drift, not into dreams, but into something quieter.

  A breath caught between guilt and comfort. A pause before everything fell apart.

  Because this city didn’t believe in happy endings.

  And dawn always came too soon.