Dair made a cursory check over the locks and wards in Rixian’s sitting room once more before he left. Sure, Kirin wasn’t Rixian, but that wasn’t call to leave him out to dry. 

The look on that boy’s face when he noticed him… The freezing horror; the uneasy anxiety in his eyes... That boy was in over his head and he knew it. Lawrence knew it. Herbert knew it.... 

All there was to do now was keep the Glittering Keep glittering clean and uninvite anyone else that tried to get in.

He walked past his suite, where his husband he’d not seen in four months was hopefully sleeping, and continued down the hushed hallway. There were footsteps clicking ahead. Two people. Just out of time with one another. One of Rhys’s patrols. Nothing to worry about. 

Dair fiddled with the keys at his hip. The clanging of the metal sang through the hall ahead of him.

The guards came around the corner prepared to see someone. Their curious eyes changed when they hit him. 

Dair waved lazily to them with a warm smile. One he didn’t recognise, the other he knew. “Killian, well met.” 

Killian sighed, “Master O’Phelan. You weren’t here earlier in the day, were you?” 

Dair grinned and winked, “Don’t worry; I didn’t break in on your beat.”

He heard an “Oye, Scald,” as he passed them by, and continued down way a distance more. Then he turned around and came back to a door he’d passed only moments before. He’d needed time for Killian and his junior to get out of earshot before he dealt with this problem. 

He pulled the door open, and stepped inside. The guest rooms on this wing were extravagant. This one was no exception. No light invaded the room save dim moonlight from the waxing gibbous. Nothing out of place save a fallen cup. 

Dair picked the goblet up and put it back, and walked to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. 

“Now then,” he said in a low rumble, taking the key from his pocket, “We’re both professionals, so let’s take care of this business in a professional manner, aye?” 

He pulled his stiletto knife from its place and held it lightly in his palm as he turned the key, just in case this one got ideas. 

He hadn’t. 

The knots held good and the invader remained exactly as he’d been left; trussed and gagged and looking bored. 

The darkness fell heavier in the wardrobe than in the room, but Dair saw the man’s eyes hit the knife in his hand and flick back up. He gestured with his chin at the blade and quirked an eyebrow in a wordless question.

“Nah, I’m still more Register than I am Dulaith’s man.” Dair said, and severed the bonds around the man’s wrists. 

Slowly the invader removed the gag and swallowed with a grimace, “I’d heard stories to the contrary.” 

Dair shrugged and flipped his knife in his hand, and laid the hilt of it on the assassin’s shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong: I’ll be staying for the foreseeable future. I like the paycheck, and the parties are fun.”

The assassin’s eyes cut sideways to the blade. “Ya don’t have to rub it in, Nevis.” he spat. 

“Rubbin’ it in makes me less likely to have to rub you out next time, a-frol.” Dair said brightly, “And before you get a smart comment, the only reason I’m not doing that now is because Mairch Dulaith said to let you go.” 

“You can’t kill me; I’m Register too.” the assassin said.

“You kept going after you were tagged; First time, I use the pommel—” he flipped the knife in his hand and pressed the blade to the assassin’s throat, “Second time, it’s nothing personal, it’s just good business.” 

The assassin looked coldly at him, but a quiver behind his eyes told Dair he was calculating. Good. 

He withdrew the knife and slid it back into its sheath with a smirk. “Now; fuck off. I’m tired, and cleaning up bloodstains takes for-fuckin’-ever.” 

The assassin finished fumbling with the knots and stood from the cramped wardrobe with a wince and a stretch. “That’s that?” he asked, stretching his shoulder across his chest. 

“That’s that. Unless you decide you’d like me to show you some properties to lease in Bruminat.” Dair said, drumming his fingers on his stiletto’s hilt.

“I’m fuckin’ goin’. Arilith’s tits!” The assassin walked past him into the room.

“I better not see you again, sweetcakes.” Dair said to his back.

“Rather go to hell some other way, thanks.” The assassin said, letting himself out the window. 

“I suggest north, north-east. The garden is pretty over there.” Dair quipped, and pushed the door open. He stepped back into the hall and closed the door behind him. 

Heavier footsteps clattered across the marble, and Dair smirked at the corner the moment before Rhys Walker came down the way.

He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave Dair spoke murder without needing language.

“He left heading north a moment ago, he’s probably still on the wall.” Dair said.

“Shut up, O’Phelan.” Rhys snapped. He walked by without another word. 

He’d be making his way to Lawrence’s room to be sure the assassin that Dair had just let go hadn’t gone to murder the Mairch. 

He wouldn’t; it wasn’t Lawrence he was here after…

Dair made his way back towards his suite wearily, pouring over the information he’d gathered, sorting through the heres and theres and secrets and stabs.

The kid seemed nice. Genuinely. There were a thousand questions he could have asked if he was a spy. He hadn’t noticed any of the tells Dair had given away; he wasn’t trained in subterfuge. He had an elfin grace, but he lacked the carriage of a killer. He didn’t have the muscle for it either. 

His accent was good, but Lawrence’s description explained that, and he was more concerned with learning about Rixian than he was with learning family secrets. It was still worth keeping an eye on the boy, but the odds of him being the breech were slim-to-none. He was more likely yet another poor soul caught in the rip tide and pulled into unfriendly waters. He didn’t deserve to drown.

Dair pushed the door to his suite in, and found it warm with firelight, perfumed with cologne, and decorated with his husband passed out on the couch with the liquor bottle. 

He chuckled and padded across the room and leaned on the back of the couch, watching the dim light from the fireplace dance across Herbert’s face. He looked ruddy and blushed and seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He looked exhausted. Dair traced the circles under his eyes in his mind, and the hollow of his cheeks. Herbert never ate well when he was gone… 

Dair swept a lock of red curls back and leaned down to bless his brow with a kiss. 

“Berty,” Dair whispered. 

Herbert drew a breath and squinted up at him. A drunken smile crossed his lips. “I knew it.” he mumbled, and reached with an uncoordinated movement. “I knew if I had more you’d be real.” 

“You’re talkin’ like I’m dead, Mielsheanun,” Dair brushed his curls back again, “I’ve not been gone that long.” 

“Terence didn’ come back…” Herbert said quietly, “And who knew what might’a’ happened when you found Claudi? The woman’s more ruthless than Lawrence for Shcald’s sake.”

Dair chuckled and offered Herbert his hand, “Listen to yourself. You are gonna be sick as a dog i’the mornin’. I telt ye to get in bed, not start on another fifth.”

“How’d you find her?” Herbert asked, and missed catching Dair’s hand twice before he finally caught it. 

“She was well. I saw her mother too, briefly. As lovely as ever, both of ‘em.” Dair pulled Herbert up off the couch.

Herbert winced and tried to steady himself, but ended up in Dair’s arms. “That ain’t what I meant, and you know it. You’re trying to pull a fast one, because you think I’m too drunk to notice, but I’m still sharp as stone.” 

Dair chuckled and pulled his arm over his shoulder and shepherded him into their bedroom.

“She really not know anything?” Herbert asked.

“No, she knows where he is, she just didn’t want to tell me.” Dair said, “I think she believes she’s protecting him; she doesn’t trust Lawrence after what happened.” 

Herbert scoffed and stumbled for a moment before Dair let him down on the bed. “She thinks she knows somethin’ and she don’t.” Herbert muttered.

Dair smiled, but knew he needn’t have guarded his expression so carefully. Odds were Herbert would wake up so hungover that he wouldn’t even care about the stranger in bed beside him until he’d thrown up a couple times. Then he’d probably accuse him of sneaking in sometime around midnight. 

“You need to sleep.” Dair said, and pushed him gently towards his pillow. Herbert didn’t even try to stay upright. He collapsed into his pillow with a mfff.  

Dair chuckled again and started dressing for bed. The knives found their place on the bedside table, the boots in the corner, his shirt over the back of the chair. That was when Herbert seemed to notice he was still moving around.

“You’re gonna stay?” Herbert asked.

“Of course. This is my room.” Dair answered with a grin.

Herbert blinked up with bloodshot eyes, “You gonna be here in the morning?”

“Someone’s going to have to make sure you eat your oatmeal and drink your tea.” Dair said, “May as well be me.” 

A drunken smile graced his lips and he pulled the blanket back for Dair. “Come to bed.” 

Dair tucked himself in. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”