The sky over Hallthom was turning a muted gold, the last remnants of the sun slipping behind the low hills. Lucas's carriage stood at the edge of the village, just where the cobbled path turned into soft grass and led to Evie's modest little cottage nestled beneath an arching willow.
"Just drop me here, please," Evie had said quietly, gesturing toward the path. "I don't want to trouble you any further."
But Lucas didn't move. His copper eyes were unreadable as he stared ahead.
"It's not trouble," he said simply. "I'll take you to your door."
Evie hesitated, lips parting as if to protest, then simply nodded. The carriage rolled forward again, the quiet creak of its wheels echoing through the sleepy street. Neither of them spoke until the carriage finally stopped in front of her home, the lantern beside her door flickering faintly in the breeze.
Evie gathered her things—the small sack of tomatoes resting on her lap—and turned to face him.
"Lucas," she said, her voice hesitant. "If you're free tomorrow evening… would you do me the honor of having tea with me?"
Her grey eyes lifted to meet his, soft and hopeful.
Lucas was caught off guard. It wasn't often that anyone asked him for anything without some kind of fear or formality. And certainly not like this—not gently, not sweetly.
"I'm sorry, Vie," he said after a pause. "I've got work tomorrow."
He watched her closely. The way her smile faltered—just slightly. It wasn't anger or frustration, just quiet disappointment, smoothed over by courtesy.
"I understand," she said, her voice still kind. "You must be busy."
"Thank you for bringing me home safe."
She dipped her head, her hair catching the light as she turned away.
Lucas reached out and, without quite knowing why, placed a hand gently atop her head. "It was my pleasure, Vie."
He watched her walk up the path to her door, watched the way she lingered just a moment before disappearing inside. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
And the warmth in his expression faded like a curtain falling.
"Take me to the magistrate's office," he ordered the coachman. His tone was different now—cold, sharp, business-like.
The carriage wheels turned again, this time heading deeper into the heart of the village. Hallthom was quiet. Too quiet. And the magistrate's office, when they arrived, was no better.
Lucas stepped down from the carriage and stood before the building with disdain. The once-bold sign that read "Magistrate" hung half-off its hinges, swaying in the wind. The wooden beams that framed the doorway were splintered and warped. Trash littered the steps, and there was no sign of order or care.
He took five long strides toward the door and, without hesitation, lifted one boot and kicked. The rotting wood shattered inward, pieces scattering like dry leaves in a storm.
Inside, the air was thick and musty. The room smelled like stale ale, ink, and sweat. Behind a battered desk sat a middle-aged man, flanked by stacks of scattered paper and a bottle of something strong. But what made Lucas's gaze narrow was the girl beside him.
She couldn't have been older than fifteen. She sat stiffly on the arm of his chair, clearly uncomfortable, eyes wide and fearful. Her blouse was tugged too tightly, and her hands were clenched in her lap.
The magistrate looked up, irritated at the noise—until he saw who stood in the doorway.
Lucas didn't speak. He didn't need to. His very presence was enough to silence the room. The magistrate stumbled to his feet, knocking the girl to the floor without a thought. She yelped as she hit the ground, but stayed quiet, crawling to the side like a wounded animal.
"Sir," the magistrate stammered. "Welcome to Hallthom. How may I be of service?"
Lucas took a step forward, his expression like winter—frozen, unforgiving.
"How long," he said slowly, "has the post office been closed?"
The magistrate paled. He glanced quickly at the badge glinting on Lucas's coat—the golden insignia of a High Councilor.
"Ten months," he admitted, voice cracking.
Lucas's jaw tightened. "Ten months."
He stepped forward again, the floor creaking under his boots. He looked toward the girl, who now cowered against the wall, eyes brimming with tears.
"You," Lucas said softly, his voice cold enough to chill the air. "Why are you here?"
The girl didn't answer at first. She looked between him and the magistrate, then down at the floor.
"My mother's sick," she whispered. "She's been sick for months. We don't have any doctors in the village. I… I came to ask him to send for one from Caltot."
She swallowed hard, her next words trembling.
"But I only had five pennies. He said it wasn't enough. He wanted… he wanted a silver coin. And when I told him I didn't have one… he said I could pay another way."
Lucas's eyes darkened.
He turned to the magistrate, whose face was now glistening with sweat. "Do you care to explain?"
"She's lying," the man said quickly, raising his hands. "I wasn't—I didn't mean it like that—I was just checking her, making sure she wasn't lying about the illness, I swear—"
He didn't get to finish.
Lucas moved like a shadow, sudden and swift. He grabbed the man by the arm and slammed him forward, pinning him down on the desk with a sickening crack. Papers flew in every direction. The magistrate screamed.
"You were just checking her?" Lucas asked, voice low. "With your hands? Or your filth?"
He looked at the girl, who trembled but met his gaze.
"Would you like to do the honors?" Lucas asked her. "Or would you rather run home like a frightened bird?"
The girl looked at the man, then at Lucas. Then she stood. Her knees shook, but there was fire in her eyes now.
She took the ink bottle from the desk and hurled it at the magistrate's face. It shattered on impact, black liquid dripping down his cheeks like tears.
"For my mother," she said.
Lucas let go of the man and turned to the girl. "What's your name?"
"Aleia," she whispered.
"I'll do well to get a doctor for your mother."
The girl nodded, her lower lip trembling.
Lucas turned back to the magistrate, who lay groaning on the desk. "If I find out you've touched another soul like that," he said, voice calm, "I'll come back. And I won't use a desk next time."
Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the shattered office, the girl close behind him.
Outside, the sky had gone completely dark. Stars blinked overhead, silent witnesses to what had passed.
Lucas looked toward the distance, in the direction of Evie's home. Her voice echoed softly in his memory.
Would you do me the honor of having tea with me?
He had said no.
He wasn't sure anymore if he had meant it.