Cages Made of Courtesy
Observation did not look like chains.
It looked like politeness.
Lumi's new quarters were warmer than the watchhouse rooms had ever been. The windows were wide and unbarred, draped in soft fabric the color of dusk. Meals arrived on time. Guards bowed instead of blocking her path.
At twenty-two, Lumi had learned that cruelty announced itself.
This did not.
She could walk the eastern gardens during daylight hours—escorted. She could read from the archives—curated selections only. She could speak to citizens—provided a council aide stood close enough to hear every word.
Courtesy pressed in from all sides.
"You're being protected," the aide reminded her gently when Lumi paused too long beside a withered tree. "There are… strong feelings about you."
"I know," Lumi replied.
The truth stirred—not loud, not sharp.
This is a velvet leash.
Blake was allowed to visit.
That, Lumi suspected, was the real calculation.
He arrived just before nightfall, shadows clinging to his coat like they didn't want to let go. At twenty-five, Blake looked older than he had weeks ago—jaw tighter, eyes carrying the weight of decisions he hadn't made yet.
"They're starving you," he said quietly, glancing around. "Just not of food."
"They want me calm," Lumi replied. "Grateful."
Blake's mouth twisted. "That's worse."
They sat together on the balcony, close enough that their shoulders touched. Below them, Noctyrrh glimmered—orderly, restrained, simmering.
"I heard what they're calling you," Blake said after a moment.
"Observation Asset?"
He huffed softly. "That too. But mostly—the conscience of the crown."
Lumi laughed once, hollow. "They took my voice and turned it into decoration."
The truth warmed faintly.
He hates this.
A bell rang—soft, precise.
Serath Vale arrived without guards.
Blake rose instantly, hand drifting toward the Dreadsword.
"Relax," Serath said mildly. "If I wanted her gone, I wouldn't be here."
"That's not comforting," Blake replied.
Serath's gaze flicked between them, sharp and assessing. "You've chosen sides openly now. That limits my options."
"Good," Blake said.
Serath smiled faintly. "I disagree."
He turned to Lumi. "Are you being treated well?"
The truth pressed close—waiting.
"Well enough," Lumi said carefully. "For someone being contained."
Serath accepted that without offense. "This city is fraying. You accelerated that."
"She named it," Blake snapped. "You tightened the grip."
Serath's attention shifted fully to Blake.
"I came to offer you relief," he said.
The Dreadsword hummed—alert.
"You are the only thing holding this together," Serath continued. "The people trust you. Fear you. They will follow if you lead."
Blake said nothing.
"I will restore her freedom," Serath said, nodding toward Lumi. "Publicly. Permanently."
Lumi's breath caught.
"In exchange," Serath said calmly, "you take command of enforcement. Mercy Hours. Relief halls. All of it."
The truth ignited—violent, urgent.
He is offering peace bought with obedience.
Blake closed his eyes.
The Dreadsword whispered eagerly.
Say yes. End this. Protect her.
Blake looked at Lumi.
Not for permission.
For truth.
She shook her head once—small, steady.
"I won't be the price," she said quietly.
Serath studied them, something like disappointment flickering across his face. "You would let the city burn for principle?"
Blake met his gaze, voice low and unyielding. "I would let it choose."
Silence fell.
Serath exhaled. "Then understand this." He stepped back toward the door. "Courtesy can be withdrawn."
When he was gone, the night felt thinner.
Blake let out a breath he'd been holding too long. "I almost—"
"I know," Lumi said, taking his hand. "That's why I trust you."
The truth settled—gentle, fierce.
Love is not the thing that cages them.
Below, the bells rang again—measured, polite.
The cage held.
For now.