I spread the papers across the small table in my room at The Lantern.
The handwriting varied, but the meaning was becoming clearer. Several merchants had opposed the Vellmore Trading Initiative. Shortly afterwards, their shipments had been redirected, delayed, or lost to disputes that seemed to appear from nowhere. The Thorn Collective’s name surfaced in the same records, though never beside anything that could directly condemn it.
Someone had been careful.
Very careful.
I leaned back in my chair and studied the ceiling.
We already knew the broad shape of the scheme. The people behind the initiative wanted to secure Clara’s hometown as a trade route. Her father stood in their way, and the attempted kidnapping had been an effort to force his hand.
That was why we had come to Haremdale in the first place.
The question now was who stood behind the Thorn Collective, how it was operating, and how far its influence extended.
I picked up one of the papers again.
A list of redirected shipments. Three merchants who had opposed the initiative. A reference to a meeting that had apparently taken place between representatives of the Collective and an unnamed member of the local council.
Not enough.
It was frustrating being an author in a world that refused to hand over the answers just because I knew where to look.
Back in my original novel, House Vellmore had been little more than a name attached to a wealthy family. The trading initiative, the political manoeuvring, the people whose livelihoods were being quietly ruined, none of it had existed in my manuscript.
Now I was standing in the middle of a conspiracy that could get me killed.
Wonderful.
At least my body had finally recovered from the festival attack. My ribs no longer complained whenever I breathed too deeply, and the bruises had faded. I could walk normally again without feeling as though every step reminded me of my own mortality.
I had other things to worry about.
A knock sounded at my door.
"Come in."
Clara entered, closing the door behind her. She wore a dark blue dress beneath a travelling cloak, with her hair gathered behind her neck. There was dust on the hem of her skirt, suggesting she had spent much of the day moving through the city.
Her gaze went to the papers.
"You found something."
"I found several things." I gestured towards the chair opposite me. "Unfortunately, none of them came with a convenient explanation."
Clara sat down and loosened the clasp of her cloak.
"That’s more than we had this morning."
"How did your investigation go?"
She gave a small, dissatisfied sigh. "Maren and I found people who knew the Thorn Collective existed. We found very few who wanted to discuss it."
"That sounds promising."
"It was exhausting."
"Ah. The difference between a successful investigation and a miserable afternoon."
She almost smiled.
"Maren is following another lead. She found someone willing to speak with her, but he would only agree to meet away from the city. She wanted me to return here and compare what we had learned with you."
That sounded like Maren. She could be suspicious, stubborn, and entirely too willing to walk into a dangerous situation if it meant getting an answer.
I glanced at the papers.
"What did you learn?"
"The Collective doesn’t seem to act openly on its own behalf. It uses intermediaries. People who can deliver messages, arrange meetings, or apply pressure without leaving an obvious trail back to the organisation."
"That fits with what I found."
I pushed one of the records across the table.
Clara read it carefully.
"This merchant opposed the trading initiative."
"Three of them did. Their shipments were redirected afterwards. The records don’t prove the Collective arranged it, but its name appears in the same correspondence."
Clara’s expression tightened.
"So they aren’t merely trying to persuade Father. They’re making an example of anyone who stands in their way."
"That’s what it looks like."
"And the council?"
"Someone has been discussing a vote concerning your father. I don’t have the name of the person pushing for it."
Clara lowered the paper.
"Then we’re still missing the most important piece."
"We have the outline of the trap. Now we need to find the person holding the rope."
She looked at me for a moment before shaking her head.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It isn’t. I just find that calling something a catastrophe makes people unnecessarily dramatic."
"You were nearly beaten to death at the festival."
"Nearly," I said. "That word is doing a tremendous amount of work in that sentence."
Clara’s eyes narrowed, though her expression softened almost immediately.
"You’re looking better."
"I’ll try not to disappoint you by remaining alive."
"Joe."
I raised both hands in surrender.
"I’m fine. The injuries have healed. No lingering pain, no dramatic limp, and no need for anyone to feed me soup."
"That last part sounds suspiciously specific."
"I’ve had a great many unpleasant experiences with soup."
This time, she laughed.
It was a small sound, but it changed the atmosphere in the room. For a moment, she wasn’t the daughter of a man caught in a political struggle, nor a woman whose life had nearly been stolen from her. She was simply Clara, sitting across from me and laughing at a terrible joke.
I found myself watching her longer than necessary.
Then I reminded myself what I was doing.
Clara trusted me more than she had before. She had begun sharing things she would probably have kept to herself a few weeks ago. Getting closer to her was becoming easier, but I still had to make certain I didn’t confuse a successful performance with the real thing.
I wanted her affection. I wanted the security and advantages that came with having her on my side.
Love had nothing to do with it.
At least, that was what I told myself.
"Did you hear anything else while you were out?" I asked.
Clara tilted her head. "There was a rumour."
"That sounds ominous."
"People have been talking about a handsome stranger who arrived in Haremdale. Apparently, he’s attracted quite a bit of attention."
I stared at her.
"That’s the rumour?"
"I thought you might find it interesting."
"Clara, this city is full of people. Some of them are bound to be handsome."
"Apparently, this one is particularly handsome."
"Then I hope he has the good sense to enjoy the attention while it lasts."
She studied me with amusement. "You don’t want to know who he is?"
"Not especially."
Ren was supposed to be heading towards the Dragon Kingdom. That was his main quest, the grand adventure that would eventually lead him through the world and introduce him to all manner of beautiful women.
There was no reason for him to linger in Haremdale.
I refused to waste time worrying about a rumour when the real problem was sitting in front of me in the form of a trade conspiracy.
"You’re impossible," Clara said.
"So I’ve been told."
She returned her attention to the papers, and we spent the next several minutes comparing details. We marked the names we shared, the dates that overlapped, and the questions we still needed to answer. The work was slow, but for the first time, I felt we were making progress.
Eventually, Clara set the papers aside.
"Do you ever get tired of it?"
"Of what?"
"Always acting as though nothing frightens you."
I considered giving her an easy answer. Something charming. Something that would make her smile and put an end to the question.
Instead, I let a little silence settle between us.
"Of course I get frightened," I said at last. "I’m just not convinced that admitting it makes the danger go away."
Clara looked down at her hands.
"I keep thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t warned me."
"You would probably have had a very unpleasant day."
"Joe."
I smiled faintly. "I’m sorry. It seemed like the safest answer."
She didn’t laugh this time.
"I could have been taken away from my family. I might never have seen my father again. And now we’re discovering that the people responsible might be able to ruin the lives of anyone who opposes them."
Her voice had grown quieter.
"I don’t know how to protect everyone."
I understood that feeling better than I wanted to admit. I had spent my previous life believing I controlled everything that happened in my story. Now I was learning how little control I possessed once the characters began making decisions I hadn’t written.
"You don’t have to solve everything tonight," I told her.
It was good advice. More importantly, it was the kind she needed to hear.
Clara looked at me, and some of the tension left her shoulders.
"You’re surprisingly sensible when you want to be."
"I save it for special occasions."
"And what makes tonight special?"
I met her eyes.
"You came back to see me."
For a second, she seemed caught off guard. Then her gaze dropped, and a faint blush appeared across her cheeks.
I knew I was getting closer to the point where words would no longer be enough.
I reached across the table and gently covered her hand with my own. Clara didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers shifted beneath mine, turning until our hands rested together.
Neither of us spoke.
I could feel the warmth of her skin. I could also feel the familiar instinct to turn the moment into something useful, to measure her reaction and choose the next move that would draw her closer.
But Clara was watching me as though she wanted me to make the decision for both of us.
"You’re not going to make another joke, are you?" she asked softly.
"I have several prepared."
"Joe."
"All right. No jokes."
She rose from her chair and moved around the table. When she stopped beside me, I looked up at her.
For once, I decided not to spoil the moment by talking.
Clara leaned down and kissed me.
The kiss was tentative at first. Then she rested a hand against my cheek, and I drew her closer. Whatever doubts she had been carrying seemed to fade as she kissed me again.
I stood, and she stayed close enough that I could feel her breath against my face.
"Are you sure?" I asked quietly.
Clara answered by taking my hand.
I led Clara to the bed, our fingers entwined. I sat down, pulling her to stand between my legs. My hands found her waist, thumbs tracing circles on the soft fabric of her dress. She looked down at me, her eyes reflecting the dim light of the room, a soft blush on her cheeks.
I leaned in, pressing my lips to her stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath the thin fabric. My hands moved to her back, finding the laces of her dress. I untied them slowly, my fingers brushing against her skin, feeling her shiver at my touch.
Clara’s breath hitched as I pushed the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She stood before me in her undergarments, her chest rising and falling with each breath. I looked up at her, my eyes meeting hers, asking a silent question.
She nodded, her lips parting on a soft moan as I leaned in, capturing one of her nipples through the thin fabric of her shift. My hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer, feeling her press against me.
Clara’s fingers found my hair, tangling in the strands as she held me against her. I could feel her heart pounding, her body responding to my touch. My hands moved to her back, finding the laces of her shift. I untied them slowly, my knuckles brushing against her skin, feeling her shiver.
I pushed the shift off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Clara stood naked before me, her body bathed in the soft glow of the room. I looked up at her, my eyes taking in every curve, every line.
She was beautiful.
I reached for her, my hands finding her hips, pulling her closer. Clara moaned softly as I captured her nipple in my mouth, my tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. My hands moved to her ass, squeezing the firm flesh, pulling her against me.
Clara’s hands moved to my shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. I helped her, pulling the shirt off and tossing it aside. She ran her hands over my chest, her fingers tracing my nonexistent chest hair.
I stood, my hands moving to her thighs, lifting her up. She was actually quite heavy, but I took it like a champ.
Clara wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. I carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. I followed her down, my body covering hers.
We kissed, our tongues tangling, our breaths mingling. I moved down her body, my lips and tongue exploring every curve. I felt her tense as I reached the juncture of her thighs, her breath hitching in anticipation. I looked up at her, our eyes meeting, and she nodded.
I leaned in, my tongue finding her center. Clara moaned, her hips arching off the bed. I explored her, my tongue swirling around her clit, my fingers slipping inside her. I felt her body tense, her breath coming in short gasps.
"Joe," she moaned, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I looked up at her, my eyes meeting hers. I could feel her body tensing, her orgasm building. I slipped another finger inside her, curling them upwards, finding that spot that made her gasp.
She was so tight, of course she was. In the original outline Ren was the one who deflowered her.
"Joe," she moaned again, her body tensing, her orgasm washing over her.
I moved back up her body, capturing her mouth with mine. She could taste herself on my lips, and it sent a jolt of desire through her. She reached for me, her hands finding the laces of my pants. She untied them, her fingers brushing against my hard cock.
I moaned as she wrapped her hand around me, stroking me slowly. I pushed my pants down, kicking them off. I settled between her thighs, my tool pressing against her entrance.
I looked down at her, our eyes meeting. I could see the desire in her eyes, the need. I pushed inside her slowly, feeling her stretch around me. She moaned, her hips arching off the bed, taking me deeper.
I began to move, my hips thrusting slowly, feeling her body respond to mine. We moved together, our bodies finding a rhythm, our breaths mingling. I could feel her body tensing again, her orgasm building.
"Joe," she moaned, her fingers digging into my back.
I captured her mouth with mine, swallowing her moans as I thrust into her, feeling my own orgasm building. I could feel her body tensing, her orgasm washing over her. I thrust into her one last time, my body tensing as I came, filling her.
I did not think that through obviously, because if I had, I would have asked myself where we were going to get contraceptives in this world. But I chose to ignore all that.
We lay there for a moment, our bodies entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal. I rolled onto my side, pulling Clara against me. She rested her head on my chest, her hand resting over my heart.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. We lay there, our bodies pressed together, our hearts beating in sync. The room was filled with the soft sounds of our breathing, the occasional moan as we moved against each other, exploring each other’s bodies.