Origins
Calanthe is making her way through the alley, tired and hungry. Running away from the Dursleys with zero financial support to fall back on was far from easy, but honestly? As often as she's hungry or dead tired because she can't find somewhere good to sleep, it's honestly still working out to be a better life then she'd had with them.
Which, she supposes, says an awful lot about how the Dursleys treated her. She's taken by surprise by the door a little ahead of her bursting open. The eyes of the man rushing out of it go cold when they land on her, in his way given the way he was trying to rush, and she's not even surprised when his eyes gain that telltale red glow that means a contractor is activating their ability.
Unfortunately for him, she grew up with the Dursleys. It had left her with zero hesitation to stab someone.
She lunges forward with the box cutter she'd… obtained from a store, stabbing it directly into his thigh, into that artery that'll bleed a person dry in minutes before ripping it back out.
He chokes as the faint blue glow around him and the red glow in his eyes disappears under his shock.
He starts to reach for her, but before he can grab at her, before she can swipe at his reaching hand with her box cutter, an arm reaches over his shoulder and across him and runs a rather… large knife over his throat.
She whips up to see who had done it, finding herself staring at a taller man wearing a white mask and a black with green interior trench coat.
She doesn't take her eyes off of him warily even as the other guy gurgles, choking on his own blood. He tilts his head at the man as she sees him fall with a heavy thump out of the corner of her eye. He leans down and wipes his blood off on a clean section of the man's clothes, “Well, that takes care of that.” Then he turns and stares at her as he slowly sheaths his knife under his coat. After a beat, his arm snaps out and she stumbles back as she swipes with her box cutter, but he knocks it from her hand with ease before snagging the back of her shirt and coat and lifting her off the ground a bit, “What on earth is a feral gremlin like you doing out this late? Shouldn't you be with your parents? Or even if your homeless, shouldn't you have found a place to bunk down for the night by now?”
She tries to kick out at him, frustrated that he's too far away, even as she tries to scratch at his arm and squirm out of his grip, “Fuck you! I don't need to be in a grave like them, thanks!”
She suddenly stills, going slack as it really registers what he said and she goes slack in surprise, and he stills as well.
He'd said the words curling in dark blue around her ankle. Which meant. Which meant he was her soulmate. From the way he stilled, she had to have said his words too, right? Right? She- She wasn't a mismatch who's soulmate didn't have her words like the Dursleys used to say she was, right? ...Right?
There's a beat of silence as they just stare at each other before he slowly lowers her until her feet are back on the ground, though he doesn't let go.
There's another beat before he tilts his head, his voice a bit uncertain, “...Alright then. So your parents are dead, but don't you have a guardian? And you didn't answer why you haven't found a place to sleep if you're homeless.”
She blinks up at him rapidly, still stunned, “Even living on the streets is better than living with them. I should know. I ran away a year ago. And a gang was doing some drug business where I've been sleeping, and I didn't want to be anywhere near that.”
There's another beat before he sighs and adjusts his hold so he's got one of her arms in hand instead, “Come on then.”
He starts to tug her along with him, and she stumbles over her lead feeling feet, “Why?”
He sighs, “Because you feral gremlin. I have no clue how this soulmate thing is supposed to work, but I'm not gonna leave you out here.”
She stumbles after him, unsure how she feels about it all. She has the reassurance that soulmate bonds block those sort of… proclivities, even if the older of a pair is a pedophile, but… People don't do nice things for her. Maybe… maybe it would be different with a soulmate, “...Okay.”
She snags the wallet on her way by as she meanders around the park. Eventually, when the clock ticks to a new hour, she makes her way back to Hei. It's nowhere near legal, but he'd straight up told her he had no clue how long he'd be in the country until his bosses made him leave, and he refused to let her possibly get entangled with them, so he'd taken to teaching her how to take care of herself as a runaway better. Helping her get a better handle on pickpocketing, hiding, losing tails, everything he could. He'd taken her back to one of his personal safe houses he always lined up in a country before going there, hidden from his employers, the first night. She's been staying there since so she had somewhere safe to live without Hei having to let her be introduced to the Syndicate.
He'd also made it clear it was hers after he leaves. Apparently, the safe in the office was also set to unlock itself if he didn't put a code in within two weeks, and there were addresses and security codes for locks and all that to other safe houses inside that she's welcome to help herself to when he leaves.
When she gets back to him, he nods, “Definitely better, but three of them almost caught you, and two of them realized they were gone and only didn't connect it to you because you were already out of sight when they started looking.”
She nods, tucking her bangs behind her ears, “Okay.”
Then he waves her off, “Wasn't really because of anything you were doing wrong exactly. More a practice thing. Run it again.” Then he smirks at her, “Do well enough to be able to afford my stomach, because we're buying lunch and it's on you today.”
She pouts at him, “Not fair!”
He chuckles and waves her to get going. Pouting, she moves off to pick more pockets. Hei said once she got this down, he'd start teaching her how to snag other valuables, bracelets, watches, rings and the like without people noticing.
It was certainly a more constant… income to feed and clothe herself with then what she was getting previously.
Even if Hei was an absolute slave driver.
Hei stops dead in surprise when he gets into view of the indoor garden.
The icy Stone Flower is gone already.
In its place is a note on a metal stand which he snatches up angrily to bring closer and see if it really says what he thinks he does. It does. It reads, “Too slow Mr Reaper ♡ Meet me at the address on the invitation if you want it back ♡ Oh, and I wouldn't lose the invitation if I was you. It's a masked costume party, so no one will bat an eyelash at your getup, but security won't let you in without it ♡”
He curses and takes off as alarms start blaring, likely someone having realized the Stone Flower was missing. He tosses his wires up towards the exposed beams to make his way out the moment he clears the little glass gazebo garden thing.
Getting out of the building is a little trickier then he was expecting with the whole place basically going into lockdown, but he manages it, making sure to let Huang know he's out as well as heading to the location on the invitation, given the way he's been nagging him since the alarms went off.
He circles the building when he gets there, and it absolutely feels like a stab to his professional ego that he can't spot any way to slip in. It's with incredible reluctance that he slips down to ground level in an alley and over to a door to hand over his invitation to one the watchful security guards on the doors.
The man looks it over thoroughly, which makes it clear that it didn't just look like they weren't slacking at a glance and were genuinely being diligent, before he hands it back, “It's a valid invitation. Go on in.”
He slips by them and in the door with a nod, then starts scanning the crowd as he casually makes his way in. Whoever had left the note and invitation wasn't kidding. It was the sort of masked costume party that his gear hits right in.
The grumbling from Huang in his ear abruptly disappears as the ear bud is snatched away lightning quick, even as he catches the arm with the offending hand, it's already being caught by the other from the pass and tossed in a drink a passing waiter is carrying, as a strangely familiar voice chastises him, “Now, now Mr Reaper. The invitation was for one party guest.”
He snarls, but at least the sight of her answers the question of who in the hell stole the Stone Flower. The fox mask, black leather corset over the hooded long sleeved shirt, black leather pants, and black leather slightly heeled boots was fairly distinctive. And very well known in the underground.
The Wicked Kit was a rather infamous world class thief after all.
The thing is though… he's never met her before, or at least he doesn't think he has, and yet- and yet there's something familiar about her eyes. He's taken completely by surprise when she suddenly steps closer and hooks her free arm around his neck and starts swaying like they're dancing, and for some damn reason she's moving against him rather seductively at that. In fairness, if he wasn't in work mode, was a weaker man, he'll admit, if only to himself, that the way she moves might… very well entice him. He's not sure how in the hell she's doing that without the stereotypical dirty messy grinding.
It's very distracting though, even as she leans up to murmur directly in his ear, “Come now, don't be like that. You wouldn't want to draw attention, now would you Hei?”
He had started to slide an arm around her as she pointed out the fact he'd draw attention otherwise, but he tightens his grip instinctively, like he's trying to break her when she says his name. She's not supposed to know his name. How does she-, “Know my name?”
She laughs, the way his other hand gripping her arm had gotten slack allowing her to push it forward to rest against his chest and trail up. He's distracted by the bracelet on her wrist though. It's not the sort of high class jewelry he'd have expected a world class thief to wear, if she was so unprofessional as to wear jewelry while she was working in the first place, but here's something familiar with it too.
Just like her voice. Just like her ey-, “Of course I know your name, Hei-Hei.”
It hits him like a ton on bricks as she pulls back a bit, just to actually look into the eyes of his mask, hits him with the speed of a rubber band pulled too taunt snapping back at that nickname. His own eyes snap up to those mischievously sparking eyes above an equally mischievous grin playing across her lips. Her… very alluring lips. Which get even nearer as she sways closer with her dancing. Which… is all too suddenly far more enticing than before. His body is very much starting to react.
Fuck. Calanthe was eighteen now, wasn't she?
He didn't have the block anymore. Well, if nothing else, he supposes the way his pants are starting to get a bit tighter, the way her lips are very enticing, the allure of those green, green eyes under the dim lighting of the party all do a pretty damned good job of answering what sort of soulmate bond they have.
Her lips twitch, her eyes gaining a glimmer of mischievous delight when the way she's dancing with him, against him, brushes her body against the front of his pants.
She leans forward again to murmur in his ear which she lifts the arm dangling down from around his shoulders to caress at the shell of with that hand like the damn seductress she is, “Maybe later Hei-Hei. As… delightful as that is, I didn't track you down and get your attention for no reason.”
He suddenly becomes aware that his arm around her had loosened its crushing grasp, probably when she made it clear who she was, when it tightens -much more gently- around her again even as the other slides down her wrist to the rest of her arm, catching on that bracelet again. The bracelet. His eyes flick down, confirming what had already clicked in his brain.
It was the one he got her for the one birthday he managed to be there for. She'd practically mastered pickpocketing at that point, a surprisingly quick study in the art, and while one didn't generally need the skill, he'd… moved onto getting onto safes at that point. Just in case she ever did find herself needing to know how. He'd made a game of it. She'd get her present when she could crack into the safe. The problem was, he'd told her about it a week before her birthday, intending for her to start on said birthday. She'd broken in, both to the office in that safehouse and the safe, and retrieved it within three hours.
The Wicked Kit’s first heist.
He remembers feeling simultaneously exasperated with himself and proud of her for the fact he hadn't even caught her. In fairness, he wasn't exactly on guard, but… He was still a world class assassin. And she'd still gotten away with it. He'd only known when she'd given him a mischievous grin and proudly showed him the bracelet on her wrist the next morning. It wasn't because she was stealthy enough to hide from him for the hours while breaking in mind, she'd aimed for a time she knew he'd be gone for at minimum five hours. He hadn't been the slightest bit upset by the tactic. If anything, it had only made him even prouder. She'd thoroughly 'cased' the proverbial 'joint', learning relevant schedules, just his in this case, and hitting when it was vulnerable for what she estimated was adequate time to make her attempt. She hadn't left any evidence behind either.
He's yanks himself back to the present, “Must be serious if you went out of your way to track me down.”
She chuckles, “Oh, I thought about doing that repeatedly in the past, but…” She sighs, “You were always adamant I never risk getting tangled up with the Syndicate, so I stayed away to respect your wishes, while I kept an ear to the underground for any whispers that the Reaper wasn't with the Syndicate anymore.”
His breath rushes out of him in wake of the heady relief, “...Thank you.”
She hums, “Mmm. That being said, I'm not kidding about there being some rather… important business to see to. When I organized this party so we'd have somewhere to meet without anyone even giving us a second look-,” She seems to catch something in his body language, “Yeah, it's my party. Anyway, when I organized it I spread the word that there are some soundproofed rooms upstairs that are… available for party attendees to use at their discretion, so no one will pay us a lick of attention if we slip off to the stairs. I have a safehouse on the top floor.”
He's a bit embarrassed, but even the reminder that they have other matters to attend to doesn't stop him from twitching in his pants at the idea of some… nice and private alone time with Calanthe.
Her lips twitch, “Business before pleasure darling.”
Then she starts to pull away, the arm in his grasp sliding down and flipping around to catch his hand as she starts towards the stairs. Trying to distract himself from the alluring vision he's following, he asks a little breathlessly, “I can get needing to get my attention and not trusting whoever is on the other end of my earpiece, but was it really necessary to destroy it?”
She laughs, then looks over her shoulder in amusement as they start up the stairs, “I didn't darling. Just an illusion to distract you from seeing me slip a case out with the hand I pretended to toss it with and put the earpiece inside. It magically blocks noise and any potential tracking, since even without how on edge you were about the very thought of me getting tangled up with them speaking of their character, I've lived in this line of business for long enough not to trust them making the off button the actual off button.”
He feels like a fool for falling for such a simple trick, but in fairness he's never really dealt with the magical world. He's pulled from his embarrassed thoughts by her slipping something from her pocket with her free hand and tossing it back at him. He catches it easily, and since he can see his earpiece just fine through the clear case, he slips it into one of his own pockets without question.
As they head up a few floors, up the open staircases instead of stairwells. He has to studiouslyignore the couples clearly getting ready for some… fun. It would very much not help with him trying to force himself back into the right headspace. Into a more work headspace. It was hard as all hell given the utter temptress pulling him along.
In fairness. He was unfairly hard too.
When they get near the staircase leading up to a sealed door with notices on either side, both permanent ones indicating that going any further was trespassing and more temporary ones saying it was not available to party goers, another couple comes stumbling out of one of the rooms.
The business side of him isn't surprised in the slightest when Calanthe tugs him closer to press against his back to the wall and lean up like she's kissing him, close enough her hood hides that they aren't, that he's still wearing his mask in fact.
The less rational part of him is entirely at fault for the way his heart starts hammering and he gets even harder at the delectable breasts pressing against his chest, those alluring green eyes suddenly right up in his face, those tempting lips so close, and feeling a million miles away from the separation of whatever was important enough that she ignored his desire to keep her away from the Syndicate and tracked him down.
He doesn't think he's ever hated his mask before like he does in that moment.
He's felt bitter about the role it pushed him into, yet relieved at the distance it feels like it creates, and the way it hides him. Both from being recognized for some of the shameful things he's had to do, and also just in general from law enforcement and the like.
He's not totally unaware of the other couple, his driven in assassin brain would never let him forget others nearby, but it's the closest he's ever come in that very moment. Enough so he's actually surprised a bit when Calanthe's lips twitch a little before she pulls away and starts leading him up the stairs.
She inputs the code in the electronic lock by the door, which to his surprise only opens up access to an almost hidden keyhole, which she obviously has the key for and unlocks in a moment.
When they enter the room, not the dim barely there lighting of the party, but more the gentle orange glow of lamps, and he closes the door behind them, she tugs her hood off, which he belatedly realizes has a green interior in the same shade as his coat. He feels warmth of an entirely different kind at that. At the idea she'd incorporated some sort of reference, or reminder of him into her own gear. The thought doesn't last long though, as his attention is yanked to her pulling her fox mask off.
She'd grown up to be absolutely gorgeous.
He's been getting hints of it the entire time from what he could see at the party around her mask, but her entirely revealed face takes his breath away.
She glances back at him as she tosses it on a side table, “I don't even have cameras just to protect against any footage being hacked into, or even if I have it set to upload to an internet disconnected computer, potentially used against me if someone found and raided a safehouse. You're safe to take your mask off.”
He does exactly that without hesitation. For one thing, he trusts Calanthe. For another, she already knows what he looks like, so there's not really anything she could get out of it if she did betray him. She beckons him to follow and leads him into an open plan kitchen living room area, moving over to a drink cabinet as she gestures at the beam running along the ceiling on the border between the two rooms, “There's a small compartment in the middle of the top of the beam. There aren't any indicators its there to feel, because it's dumb to leave some way for someone to find something like that. Slide it to the side, grab the thread inside, and pull down on it.”
He moves over to do just that. It takes a tiny bit of poking around as she pulls out two of those old fashioned short glasses pretty much entirely used for sipping at liquor, as well as a bottle of some alcohol for the glasses, but he does find it, and once he does, it's easy to follow her instructions. When he does, he realizes he's pulled down a cork board, though there must be some sort of magic around its storage, since it's entirely in one piece despite the fact it rolled out of the opening and down. Once it is, seemingly triggered by its being out, two pieces of the floor rise to steady it.
He steps back to get an idea what he's looking at, glancing over as Calanthe comes over to his side and offers him one of the glasses, which he accepts somewhat absently with a murmured thanks. She sighs as she looks at the cork board, “Im fairness, let me just say I wasn't originally trying to look into anything about it, I legitimately didn't know that my target at the time I initially started finding out about this had any connection to the Syndicate. Then I found part of it, and, well, I couldn't exactly ignore something like this now could I?”
“If nothing else I do have a personal stake in it, in the fact that at best -though I'm in no way saying it's a good thing, please don't misunderstand, its entirely due to the fact I don't know her personally and she isn't my soulmate-, however you got your sister's powers didn't result in her death nor did she lose her connection to BK-201 and it would devastate you when it killed her. And at worst however you got the power, despite not having the Obeisance or the other drawbacks totally transferred it to you and this stupid little plan would get you too.”
He hums lightly in acknowledgement, still trying to figure out what he's looking at as he takes a small sip of the liquor she brought over. He absently notices that it's a damn fine whisky, which isn't all that surprising given how much money she had to have accumulated over the years as The Wicked Kit. He has very little time for the observation or appreciation of its quality before he almost chokes on the sip he's taking as he realizes what all the papers are speaking about.
It's a plan, from the Syndicate at that, to use the connection to the Gates, or at least the only existing Gate nowadays, the Hell's Gate, to kill every single contractor and doll on the planet simultaneously. His mind is almost numb as he starts taking in the details. Part of the reason he, amongst others, was deployed to the Heaven's Gate war was because they were working to secure some sort of matter from it which would then be used in a particle accelerator, the Saturn ring, and injected into the Hell's Gate. It would destroy it completely, and there was supposed to be some sort of reaction that would kill all the contractors and dolls.
He doesn't really get the science that the papers ramble about and he wishes it was little more than hopeful thinking on their part. But apparently they've done smaller scale experiments that didn't totally destroy the Gate, but with local contractors and dolls brought in to test the reaction, it never failed to kill them all.
They only needed to ramp up to the full scale reaction, which they were in the process of, which would destroy the Gate completely and kill all contractors and dolls.
He stays utterly still in complete numb shock for a bit, his head absolutely empty of anything else. Then the utter rage sets in and he turns to her, “If you've dug up this much, you have to know who the higher-ups in the Syndicate are.”
She nods as she sips at her own drink, “Yeah, I do. You're gonna put a cap on that rage and listen to me first though darling.”
He wants to snap and snarl like a cornered animal, but even if it's only now starting to hint at turning romantic, he's always loved Calanthe, even if it was in a more innocent capacity before. She doesn't deserve it, especially since he knows her, and she must have a reason.
It's for that reason he forces himself to take as deep and calming of a breath as he can and let it out equally as slowly, imagining he's breathing his rage out, like smoke from a cigarette, a trick he's used to keep his rare bouts of anger in check for years. He has no idea if it works in general or if more personal, but it's worked for him since his grandfather told him about it when he was younger, one of the few memories that wasn't washed away by the Syndicates indoctrination.
Regardless, he repeats it until he feels calmer, and only then does he nod, “Alright then.”
Calanthe hums, “We could go after the Syndicate higher-ups, but they have multiple partners in this plan, including the Pandora organization itself, so firstly, killing everyone higher up before they can do it or pass along the instructions is practically impossible.”
His face pinches in distaste at that, especially since he can't dispute it, “So what? We're just supposed to stand back and let it happen? Because I'm going to be honest, if you came looking for answers or to at least try to brainstorm a solution, I've got absolutely nothing.”
She reaches up and pats at his cheek with a mischievous grin, “Mm. Pretty face, and good at the physical, but not the planning, hmm? That's a stereotype I never thought would apply to you. Luckily for you pretty boy, I've already got a plan. You can even track those assholes down and kill them one by one if you really want after, but you can't before we're done, lest it tip them off.”
He willing choses to focus on the humor, not wanting to deal with the frustration that he can't dispute that either, “I've never been called a pretty boy before, but I certainly don't mind being the brawn to your brain.” He slowly drags his eyes down her body and back up, “Amongst other things.”
She laughs lightly at that, then get a mischievous grin, “I have no idea what the plan is after but you do realize that the underworld will probably collectively flip if they find out The Black Reaper and The Wicked Kit have teamed up?”
He grins back as he leans closer, deciding to try to tease her a little in return, just to see how she'll react and maybe get a little payback if he can. He doesn't stop until he's hovering less then an inch from her lips, and in the process he brings his free hand up to rest against the side of her face, thumb slowly rubbing against her cheek, and gods but maybe this wasn't a good idea, because he's teasing himself in the process, “Good. They need to know you're mine and there are consequences to touching you. Such as having the Reaper hunt them down for daring to touch what's his.”
He has to give her credit as he hovers another moment before leaning back. She controls herself phenomenally, certainly better than he had earlier and he's not ashamed to admit it. The way her pupils have blown wide, dilating with arousal almost to the extent of swallowing the green of her eyes entirely gives her away though.
As he finishes straightening up, he raises his glass to take another sip, but before he does he asks, “So what's the plan?”
And she still has incredible control over herself, even he almost misses the signs despite being a world class assassin, but almost falls short, so he absolutely catches the way she blinks just a tad too quickly, the way her breath is a fraction faster then before.
He hides his grin in the lip of his glass as Calanthe pushes on, “Well, first of all, I'm pretty sure destroying the second Gate is more of a disaster then they're thinking it will be. Look at this.”
She reaches over and grabs two glass orbs. He's not sure what she does to it, but the first one spits out a 3D holographic looking image that hovers in midair of earth, but there are strange lines going every which way all over it, “The lines are lay lines, I suppose the best way to think of them is arteries of magic for the planet itself.”
He hums in understanding, and she activates the second orb. This one is clearly the region around the Gate. And that's where the problems lie. Because there are also lines criss-crossing over it, and even at a glance, one can tell they line up perfectly with the ones crossing the planet, some of them are more faded but…
Calanthe continues, “You've probably noticed the similarities by now.” He nods, “As far as I can tell, the Gates each had half of the… mimicked lay lines of the planet. I haven't been observing the Hell's Gate long enough to know if the missing half from the Heaven's Gate, the faded lines, are just… transferring to the Hell's Gate or are still with the Heaven's Gate somehow and are just, I don't know, out of synch because of whatever happened to it, or what. But it cannot be a good idea to get rid of the other anchor for whatever was happening with them given its clearly some sort of huge natural magic thing.”
He takes a deep breath, “No. No it can't.” He scrubs at his face with his free hand, “Fuck. Even without personal stakes, this is absolutely something that can't be allowed to happen.”
Calanthe is falsely cheerful, “Nope! But like I said, I've got a plan!”
He smiles at her faintly, “And that is?”
She grins, “There's a reason why there are so many myths of flying carpets and broomsticks and all that. It's because magicals are damn good at that. So, the game plan in to put a ward over it, one that will not allow anyone with ill intentions towards the Gate anywhere near it, that also has flying aspects to rip the whole thing out of the ground and get it away from easy access.”
He blinks rapidly at her for a moment as a grin slowly spreads across his face, “Well. That's certainly a pretty thorough plan. How do we do it?”
She shrugs, “It'll take some breaking into Pandora because I'd need to be at the center of the Gate, but from there? It's honestly more just inscribing the Runes. Probably while you protect me in case anyone tries to interfere.”
His brows dip as a scowl breaks out on his face, “I'll kill anyone who tries to pull anything towards you.”
She laughs, then smiles at him, “I know.” Then she finishes off her drink, “I have most of it planned out already, and honestly, I mostly just needed you up to date and on board, because one, I couldn't stand the idea of you continuing to work with them -or at least work unaware since I'm aware you may have to keep your cover- knowing what I know. Two, I had to warn you so you don't unintentionally help them progress their plans. Three, while I've gotten pretty damn good at breaking into places myself, world class thief and all, but I figured it'd be safer to run the plan by you, Mr World Class Assassin. Finally, four, I needed someone to potentially protect me while I work, so…”
He nods, “All perfectly valid reasons, but I'm gonna be honest? I think I need a bit of time wrapping my head around what they've been planning, so it may be better to go over the break in plan tomorrow.”
She smiles, “That's perfectly fine.”
Then she moves forward to tug on the attached string again, which causes the bottom brace brackets to release and the whole thing to roll back up. Finishing off his glass as she does, he moves forward and slips his arms around her and leans down to kiss at the back of her neck around the time the cork board rolls up.
She shivers lightly, turning her head to look back at him with dark eyes. Then she finishes off her own glass, and after that she must use magic, given it just floats off towards the sink on its own as she turns in his arms and slips her own around his neck as she leans up.
Finally, finally those tempting lips press against his own even as she starts slowly pushing him back towards a door from what the layout he'd absently memorized when he came in. A bedroom presumably. Hopefully.
He wasn't sure if he'd ever see Calanthe again after the Syndicate pulled him away from Britain, but even when he'd entertained thoughts of it, he'd never thought things would play out anywhere near like this.
The truth of the Syndicate was garbage and the stakes were unfair. But he wasn't complaining about having Calanthe herself back, nor where things seemed to be going.