Chapter 50: If She Dares

Cyrus got out before Daphne’s brain caught up with the empty doorway.

The second he stepped into the hall, he dug the key from the tiny pocket of his child sized shorts and unlocked his own apartment. He turned the knob slowly, slipped inside, and eased the door shut with as little sound as possible.

Hiding in plain sight had its own kind of thrill.

His apartment was right next to hers. Daphne could have walked out, turned her head, and seen him vanish into the unit she already knew belonged to her student. If the hallway had cameras, Cyrus would never have tried something this stupid. Grayhaven had plenty of old apartment buildings with tired paint, unreliable hallway lights, and landlords who thought security meant a lock that stuck in the frame. Tonight, that neglect did him a favor.

The little outfit hit the floor a few seconds later.

White hair darkened back to black. His small body stretched into its usual shape, and the Frostborn shift passed through him like a cold tide pulling away from shore. Cyrus changed into his own clothes, shoved the cheap outfit aside with one foot, and dropped onto the bed with the heavy satisfaction that only came after a full stomach.

Nothing made life feel better than eating well without paying for it.

Daphne cooked too well for someone with so many troubling habits. That alone made her difficult to dismiss.

As for the rest of her, Cyrus did not feel much panic.

A woman with Daphne’s fixation sounded alarming in theory. In practice, she was still human. If she truly tried something while he was in that form, he could change back. Even if she saw it happen, his strength and speed should still let him get away without much trouble.

At worst, she would learn something she should not know.

At best, he would learn something he could use.

The thought made him roll onto his back and stare at the ceiling. A teacher being caught with a strange white-haired child in her apartment already sounded bad. If the child then became her own student, the situation would become impossible to explain.

That kind of leverage could be useful.

If he handled it right, he might even have a decent excuse to eat at her place every day. Free dinner, home-cooked food, and a neighbor too guilty or too scared to refuse him. When he thought about it that way, Daphne making a move might benefit him more than hurt him.

Cyrus pulled the blanket over himself and gave a small laugh under his breath.

The next time he tried this, he might borrow a little from Daphne’s own methods and lure her into making the first mistake.

Now he only had to see whether she dared.

Around nine the next morning, Audra sat at her desk with her phone beside her hand and her homework open in front of her.

She had been staring at the same line for too long.

The family restaurant had worked yesterday, but not well enough. The food was fine, the seats were comfortable, and the public setting kept everything simple. Still, the noise had been worse than she expected. Children at the next table kept dropping silverware. Someone scraped a chair against the floor every few minutes. Two college students near the window argued over a shared laptop as if math became clearer when they raised their voices.

Another place would be better.

It needed to be quiet enough for studying, casual enough that Cyrus would not think she was making some dramatic invitation, and decent enough that she could dress well without looking like she had dressed well for him.

That final requirement made the list much shorter than it should have been.

Audra leaned back in her chair and glanced toward the wardrobe across the room. A place that was too expensive would make Cyrus count every dollar on the menu. A place that was too casual would make changing clothes pointless. Inviting him to the Sloane estate would be too much too soon, and he would probably treat the whole thing like a trap.

He was oddly good at making normal generosity feel suspicious.

Her phone stayed dark.

Five minutes passed after she sent the message.

No read receipt appeared.

If this had been anyone else, Audra would not have needed to send a message first. Most people at St. Alder would have texted her before breakfast if she had spent two hours tutoring them the day before. Some would have asked what time she wanted to meet. Some would have pretended to need help with one more problem. A few would have sent pointless little updates to keep the conversation alive.

Cyrus gave her nothing to work with.

Around him, she kept running into the unpleasant impression that she was not especially rare.

Audra’s fingers tapped once against the edge of her desk.

She did not like that feeling.

The phone finally buzzed.

Cyrus: Today might need to be later. Is one okay?

Audra stared at the message.

He wanted to meet after lunch, then.

A small, ridiculous irritation rose under her calm expression. Her mouth curved slightly, but there was no warmth in it.

So eating with her had no particular pull for him.

He really had nerve.

By the time Audra received his answer, Cyrus had already left his apartment in the St. Alder summer uniform he wore because his closet still had very few options worth discussing.

Faye had texted him the night before to ask whether he was free. Her younger brother wanted him to come over and play video games again.

Cyrus had accepted with no hesitation.

Games were risky in a way he understood. They ate time, demanded attention, punished mistakes, and made a person want to keep trying after every failure. Unlike people, games were usually honest about wanting to defeat him.

Food was also possible. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

That part mattered.

Faye had sent the address again, but Cyrus relied mostly on his memory from the last visit. He took the bus, watched the streets shift from shops and older apartment blocks to quieter residential roads, and got off after a short ride. From the bus stop, the walk to Faye’s house was easy enough, though the heat still pressed against his skin in a way he disliked.

Even a few minutes outside made him uncomfortable.

He rang the bell.

Faye opened the door soon after.

At home, she had not bothered to dull her appearance. The calm, pretty face that greeted him was clear and unhidden, with none of the usual effort people made when they wanted to pass unnoticed. Cyrus did not mention it. He stepped inside as naturally as if visiting a classmate’s house on a weekend was something he did all the time.

The likely reason was simple enough. He had not spread anything after the last visit, and silence had value.

The cool air from the house reached him at once. His shoulders eased before he meant them to. The room was comfortable enough that his body stopped protesting the weather, and that alone made the visit feel successful before he even touched a controller.

From the living room, Miles sprang up from his spot in front of the television.

"You really came over!" Miles said, waving him in with both hands. "Come over here, I already got everything ready."

The screen showed a brutal fantasy action game, the kind with a dark armored character standing near a ruined gate and a health bar that looked designed to cause suffering. Everything on the screen looked serious enough to promise pain.

Cyrus sat down beside him.

"This game looks hard," he said.

"That means it is good," Miles said with complete confidence.

Cyrus respected that logic more than he expected.

The first enemy proved both of them wrong and right at the same time.

It was not even a boss. It was only an elite enemy near the beginning, the kind of obstacle a game placed there to teach players humility through repeated death. Miles tried first and got flattened before he understood the attack pattern. Cyrus took the controller next, lasted longer, and then rolled directly into a second hit.

Neither of them got discouraged.

They started discussing timing, attack range, and whether blocking was a trap. Miles had the fearless optimism of a child who believed one more try could fix anything. Cyrus had the stubbornness of someone who hated losing to a thing that did not even have a real brain.

Faye watched from behind the couch for a little while.

The game made no sense to her. The two boys kept dying, yet they sounded happier after each attempt. After a few minutes, she left them to it and went to Lena’s room.

Lena had only just woken up.

Her hair stuck up in soft little tufts, and she sat on the bed with the blank patience of a child still halfway inside sleep. Faye helped her wash up, brushed her hair smooth, and changed her into clean clothes with the practiced movements of someone who had done this many mornings before.

Lena accepted all of it without complaint.

By the time Faye finished, her little sister looked neat enough to meet guests and awake enough to remember there were guests.

In the living room, Cyrus and Miles were still fighting the same enemy.

They had failed enough times that the first few attacks no longer surprised them. Cyrus knew the dodge timing now. Miles had learned not to shout during the attack animation. Together, through sheer repetition and wounded pride, they finally brought the enemy down after a long struggle.

Miles threw both hands up.

"You did it! Big brother, you are so good at this!"

Cyrus lifted his chin.

"Once I understand the controls, this kind of thing is manageable."

His bangs hid most of his expression, but the pride underneath was obvious. This kind of game was not impossible. Give him enough time and a steady supply of snacks, and he could clear the whole thing eventually.

At the moment, though, another game might be better.

While Miles changed the game, Cyrus noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Lena approached slowly with a plate of cut fruit held in both hands. She walked with careful concentration, as if delivering fruit was an important mission.

"I brought this for you, big brother," Lena said.

"Thank you for bringing it."

Lena offered the plate, then took a piece for herself first.

Cyrus looked at her and felt a mild, unexpected approval.

So this was where the younger sister had been. He had wondered why he had not seen her earlier. Apparently, she had been getting ready and then helping bring out food.

A child who delivered snacks was a very good child.

In Cyrus’s private ranking, her cuteness went up at once.

Faye came out soon after with an apron tied around her waist.

"Are you staying for lunch?" she asked.

Cyrus looked over. "Would that be too much trouble?"

"It will not be too much trouble," Faye said. "Do you mind if I keep the food mild? I am making something the kids can eat too."

"That sounds good to me."

Guest rules were simple. The host decided the meal, and the guest showed gratitude.

Besides, even if Faye had offered something spicy, Cyrus would not have had the right to complain. Free lunch came with a duty to be reasonable.

Faye turned to Miles. "Play a little longer, then take a break."

"I will after this try," Miles said, though his eyes stayed glued to the screen.

Her voice had been light, but Miles obeyed without arguing. The house had that kind of rhythm. Faye did not need to raise her voice for the children to listen.

Cyrus took another piece of fruit and looked around the room.

The house was large, much larger than his apartment and much larger than what three people needed for a weekend morning. It had polished floors, wide windows, and enough space that footsteps did not immediately crowd the walls. Yet every time he had visited, he had only seen Faye with Miles and Lena.

No parents came downstairs.

No other adult voice called from another room.

Faye moved through the house like someone used to handling everything herself.

Cyrus watched her return to the kitchen, and curiosity slowly pushed past the comfort of air conditioning, games, fruit, and the possible lunch waiting ahead.

He had come here twice on days off, and both times, Faye had been the one taking care of her little brother and sister.