Omen of a Bluebell

She apparently doesn’t like my flippancy. The look on her face is thunderous, and that’s being generous. I get the feeling that no matter what I say from here on, she’ll explode on me.

Blessedly, I’m saved from answering by a knock at the door.

I immediately take the provided excuse to avoid any further interaction by opening the door, finding a maid pushing a cart with several covered food platters atop it.

With a practiced smile, she says, “Your breakfast, miss. Would you like to serve yourselves, or shall I serve you this morning?”

“No, thank you,” Bella says.

“Absolutely! Please, come in,” I say at the same time, bowling right over her dismissal.

The maid’s smile widens as I step aside for her to enter, and she rolls the cart right up against the table nearest the couches in the middle of the room. When she stops and looks between Bella and I with expectation clear in her gaze, I take the hint and sit down.

I’m somewhat excited to be served food like this, if I’m being honest. This isn’t something I could experience under any other circumstance, and even when the girls at Tails and Temptations ate, it was more of a group affair where everyone served everyone.

That has its own merits, though. It was more... homey.

This is different, and so much like in the stories of princes and princesses that I can’t help but be a bit eager.

With the childlike giddiness that bubbles up from my belly, my tail starts to swish back and forth where I’d curled it to my side, and both the maid and Bella notice.

Bella exhales slowly through her nose, but the maid seems almost enraptured. I pause at the look she’s giving me, a sense of dreadful familiarity suddenly washing out the excitement.

She’s got the same look as Nyria...

I stop swishing my tail and force myself to sit as primly as possible, trying to emulate Bella as she settles into the couch opposite me.

Once we’re both seated, the maid finally looks away and pulls the lids off of each plate, revealing a colorful display of food.

My tail starts spasming again at the vision before me.

A platter of sliced fruit gleams like a jewel display—oranges, berries, and something purple I don’t even recognize. There’s a basket of golden pastries glistening with sugar, and a bowl of what might be porridge, though it looks too creamy and perfect to be anything so ordinary.

Even the silverware she sets out shine like jewelry, and when she pours the tea, the room fills with the scent of citrus and flowers.

I salivate at the sight of it all, unsure what to touch first.

Once the maid is finished setting everything up, she bows and retreats from the room. Just as I regain enough sense to stop her in the hopes of using her as a human shield to temper Bella, she's gone.

Instead, the door shuts with a quiet click, and I am out of ideas. The glare from across the table radiates annoyance, I give Bella an awkward smile.

“This looks really good, doesn’t it?” I ask. “And so fancy! Oh, look at that, they even have banana. I heard that’s super expensive to import to—”

Bella’s shoulders suddenly slump as she releases a long-suffering sigh, interrupting my rambling. I quickly start stuffing fruit into my mouth to avoid talking, only for her to speak up.

“I give up,” she says, sounding utterly exhausted.

She sits there with her elbows on her knees and her head propped between her hands as she rubs her temples.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” I say through a mouthful of the best tasting fruit I’ve ever had. After swallowing, I continue, “I was running out of excuses.”

She sighs again, leaning back into the couch bonelessly.

“Why are you like this?” she asks the ceiling.

“Like what?”

“Do you have any idea how absurd you are?” she asks.

Her voice comes out tired, but I can hear the hint of genuine curiosity there. Like she actually wants to know if I can see what she does or not.

“Oh, definitely. But to be fair, you’re equally as absurd in my eyes,” I reply.

She gives me an incredulous look.

“Really? You don’t see it?” I ask, brow raised.

She keeps giving me that same confused look, so I start counting off on my fingers.

“You’ve got an entire mercenary company chasing you down. You have two legendary Classes. You were alone and somehow got from the Bysmara Dominion to Tyrania without getting caught. You’ve got a weird magic compass that’s connected to the mess I’m involved in, somehow,” I take a deep breath. “Should I keep going?”

Each finger I counted off, her look turned more and more sheepish.

“Yes, but—” she starts, and I interrupt her by continuing to count off more points.

“You’re a literal Princess, a mana vam—"

She suddenly leaps over the table and straight into my lap, covering my mouth with a hand as a look of panic warps her face.

“Are you mad? That enchantment is still there!” she hisses.

My eyes widen with the realization.

Oops.

She pulls her hand away when she sees I understand, then speaks again. “Fine, I get it. We’re both absurd to one another. I apologize for my reaction earlier, it’s just… a lot to take in. I hope you understand that.”

I nod, then suddenly realize where my hands are.

I hold her with both hands by the waist where she straddles my lap. Even though she’s nearly a head and a half taller than I am, she fits snugly in my grip, and I fail to stop the flush that comes to my face at the warmth and closeness of her.

Still, I know better than to let my mind wander down that path.

Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun, though.

I give her waist a gentle squeeze, taking immense pleasure from the whole body twitch she gives me in response to the sensation.

“If you just wanted to cuddle again, you only had to ask nicely,” I smirk.

She goes rigid, then launches herself from my lap like the seat’s turned to lava.

“That isn’t—!” Her voice cracks, and she spins away to hide her face as she brushes invisible dust from her clothes. “It is highly improper for a Princess to… to engage in such casual familiarity before marriage!”

I tilt my head, letting the tinkle of metal from my earrings fill the moment of silence as I pretend to think it over. “So… after marriage, then?”

Her gaze snaps back to me, eyes wide as saucers.

“That isn’t what I—” she starts, only to pause, her eyes narrowing to slits the moment she sees the shit-eating grin splitting my face. “You are insufferable.”

Her tone is icy, but the way her hands tremble at her sides gives her away. I just widen my smile.

***

Eventually, she realizes she’s fighting a losing battle and decides we should find somewhere private to talk. Apparently, there are places specifically for that sort of thing—establishments that double as information brokers.

After asking one of the butlers for the location of the nearest “Secret Consortium,” we’re off, hand in hand. She grabs on with the excuse that she doesn’t want to lose me in the morning crowd, but I don’t believe that for a second.

I know a touch-starved person when I see one. Hells, I used to be one. I know the signs. So I just smile, nod placatingly, and hold on tight.

Still, my mind wanders toward this “Secret Consortium” as we walk.

How a place meant to maintain privacy also sells any information it gathers without losing its reputation is beyond me.

But Bella promises we can trust them. So I follow along, window shopping all the way.

I note a few places to visit later, like an enchantment shop displaying armor fit for wealthy Delvers, neatly displayed behind thick panes of glass. Or a perfume store with the scent of cinnamon and flowers wafting from its open doors.

But the one that really catches my eye is a dusty little shop wedged between two others that seem to tower over it. Its windows are packed with cracked crystals and strange baubles that almost hum with mana, and a sign above the door that reads Arcana’s Leftovers.

I have no clue how such a shabby place wound up in the fancier district of the undercity, but it sparks an almost unbearable surge of curiosity in me. It takes everything I have not to drag Bella inside on the spot.

Still, she ends up having to drag me through the streets half the time, my curiosity constantly getting the better of me. She doesn’t seem annoyed by it, though.

If anything, she seems… amused. She just hides it every time I look her way.

Jokes on you, Bella. I’m too fast.

Was I supercharging All For One just to catch her giving me these looks?

Yes.

Is it a waste of mana and sense?

Also yes.

Would I stop?

Gods, no.

Watching that gentle smile flicker onto her noble mask every time she thinks she’s gotten away with it is far too much fun.

It’s short lived though, as we find ourself in front of a building with seemingly no customers, a stark contrast from its neighbors. Above it is a sign, denoting the place as The Secret Consortium, with a stylized eye with a glowing pupil emblazoned beside the name.

“Wait, it’s actually called the The Secret Consortium?” I ask, confused.

I thought that was just what places like this were called, not the actual name of the business.

“Of course. The Secret Consortium is known all throughout the continent, with countless stores located throughout all the major cities of every nation,” she responds, giving me a equally confused look. “Did you think I was taking us to some backwater, dark alley business?”

I shrug, and she sighs. “No, this place is reputable and trustworthy. It’s successful for good reason. It’d take an army of Tier Three’s to even get close to prying the secrets they hold from them, and even then I’d only give the army even odds of succeeding.”

“Praise from one such as yourself is a true boon, my Lady.”

The voice that interjects is low and smooth, laced with a steady rumble like that of a bearkin. My eyes widen with surprise when I find exactly that gazing down at us from the now open doorway of the establishment.

Bearkin Scholar

Level ??

Standing easily one and a half times my height and twice as broad as Scruffy is a bearkin man dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. Not a crease out of place, not a thread loose. A faint shimmer traces the silver cufflinks at his wrists—some kind of enchantments, no doubt—and a small sigil matching the symbol of the Consortium is pinned to his lapel.

His hair is the deep charcoal, smoothed perfectly atop his head despite the big, fluffy ears poking out from it. The fabric of his uniform hugs a frame that looks carved from tempered steel, and his face is all strong lines and quiet composure.

He watches us calmly with gleaming amber eyes, and the moment his gaze settles onto me, I feel a subtle shift in the air. Almost like it’s pressing in on me.

The feeling slides right off and vanishes a moment later, but the bearkins gaze only sharpens, his interest apparently piqued.

What the fuck was that?

Despite not knowing exactly what just happened, I know what it feels like when someone else’s mana touches my own. It’s one of the first things Cari taught me after things calmed down.

This wasn’t that.

But it also kind of was?

“Apologize,” Bella suddenly demands, interrupting my thoughts with a voice filled with wrath and indignation.

The man bows at the waist to us without hesitation, and I look between him and Bella, utterly perplexed.

“On behalf of the Secret Consortium, I offer my sincerest apologies. Please, enter, that I might make amends in a more comfortable setting,” he says, and I can’t help the way my ears twitch at his voice.

Even the way he speaks matches the rest of him. Low, smooth, and steady as bedrock. It's the kind of voice that could either welcome you inside… or politely explain how you’ll never be found.

Bella unhesitatingly pulls us inside despite the strange mixed feelings I'm getting from the guy.

As we pass, the faint scent of cologne touches my nose. Something woody and refreshing. Tidy.

At the same time, Sense Danger flares to life now that I'm closer to him, and the scent shifts to one of ozone.

I don't feel immediately threatened, but with Sense Danger making the very air around him feel as though it's scorching, I know on instinct alone that even attempting to fight him would be a monumentally stupid mistake.

One hand rests loosely behind his back, the other held out in welcome through his bow, guiding us inside.

Somehow it manages to convey both security and threat, though I have no idea how.

The mixed signals overwhelm me just long enough for Bella to pull ke inside, then he's closing the door behind us and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

But she said we could trust this place.

So... I force the confusion away and focus on the space itself.

We step into an open lobby with plush leather chairs and marble coffee tables tastefully placed throughout the room. From the outside, the building looked to be made of a dark wood, albeit perfectly maintained to a beautiful finish. Simple, but elegant enough to match its surroundings.

The inside couldn’t be more different.

The floor, walls, and ceiling are nothing but polished white stone. The only deviation from perfect smoothness are the runic engravings etched into every surface.

To my sight, they glow a faint blue, and though they are nowhere near as complex as the ones within the Temple of the Fallen dungeon, they are still far more impressive than anything I’d seen otherwise.

Even more dense than the Delver's Guild defensive scripts.

The place isn't completely empty, but only two other parties occupie tables inside. Each are engulfed in a thick sheet of mana that shimmers with power, obscuring those within.

No matter how hard I try, it's impossible to make out who or even how many people sit within.

The bearkin man guides us to some chairs across from one another near the center before pulling a tea set from some hidden storage device and pouring us both cups of steaming tea.

Then he bows again. This time, only to me.

“Once more, I apologize. It is no excuse, but I admit that the fires of my curiosity were stoked at the sight of a foxkin on my doorstep. As recompense for my attempted intrusion, I would freely offer you a Glimmer,” he says in his gravelly baritone.

“If you saw anything, you will offer her no less than two Omens,” Bella snaps, seemingly genuinely angry on my behalf.

I still don’t have a clue as to what is happening right now, and I try to show as much on my face. She notices, but only holds a hand up, gesturing for me to wait.

The bearkin doesn’t so much as lift his head at her words, maintaining his perfect bow to me. “No information was gleaned, and thus no more than a Glimmer may be offered.”

Bella scoffs, then pauses. She looks at me with narrowed eyes, considering something. Then she seems to shift tact.

She waves to me, as if passing the matter off before elegantly grabbing her teacup and taking a sip.

I frown, then ask the obvious question.

“What the fuck is going on?”

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