Chapter 83: A Confession Outside School
Chapter 83: Chapter 83: A Confession Outside School
Chapter 83: A Confession Outside School
The last day of the weekend gave Cyrus a rare sense of peace.
He slept late.
No one waited outside his door. No one knocked with an excuse to get inside. Daphne had not stopped existing, which would have been too much to hope for, but the personal alarm had changed the way she approached him.
She could not wave the hallway footage around forever.
Cyrus had realized that much after the previous night. Daphne had no interest in calling the police, and she could not explain Cory without exposing far too much about herself. If she wanted to keep holding his secret over him, then she had to keep the alarm in mind too.
That was enough for now.
Cyrus spent most of Sunday inside apartment 203. He moved between the handheld console on his couch and the practice problems spread across the coffee table, playing until he grew tired of losing, then studying until the numbers began to blur together.
It was a decent way to spend a day.
Daphne sent food over twice.
The first meal arrived around noon in a covered container left outside his door. The second came later, when the afternoon light had begun to slide across the living room wall. Cyrus accepted both without making a scene. The personal alarm stayed in his pocket each time he opened the door.
Food was food.
He was not going to refuse a free meal because it came from someone dangerous, especially when he could now make her leave with one pull of a yellow plastic tab.
Staying inside also saved him a dose of Frostborn suppressants.
That was worth something.
The medicine disappeared quickly enough under normal circumstances. Every day he could avoid spending another set of pills felt like a small victory, even if he had only achieved it by locking himself inside with schoolwork and a game console.
By late afternoon, the lounge had gone dark for the day.
Malcolm had told him The Full Moon Lounge was closed, which ruined Cyrus’s vague plan to pick up an extra shift and make a little more money before the school week started again. He had considered going in anyway to ask whether there was some work he could do, but the answer would probably be no.
Instead, he spent the rest of the day playing.
He did not regret it.
Next week, he would need to ask around about another part-time job. Rent was one thing, but medicine, food, and everything else still existed. Daphne had offered compensation, and Cyrus intended to take what was reasonable, but he had no desire to keep pushing until she snapped.
People reacted badly when they felt cornered.
Even Cyrus understood that much.
The women from his old settlement had never understood it. They had always treated him as though he would remain quiet forever, no matter how much they took or how much they expected from him.
Daphne was not part of that life.
She still had a great deal in common with it.
Cyrus worked through another page of problems and leaned back against the couch.
The arrangement with Daphne had an awful aftertaste.
She had crossed a line. He had demanded rent money, food, and help with his medication in return. It was difficult not to feel as though the whole thing had turned into some warped exchange he never wanted in the first place.
That did not mean he would let her off easily.
He had standards.
A yawn caught him halfway through the next question.
Cyrus rubbed his eyes and looked toward the wall shared with apartment 202.
Daphne must have been thinking about him again.
She could think all she wanted. Once the snacks in his room ran out, he would send her back to the store.
That seemed fair.
On Sunday night, Audra sat at her desk with a notebook open beside the glamourkin ring.
The housekeeper stood near the far wall of Audra’s room, her expression blank beneath the ring’s influence.
Audra did not give her any instruction.
She watched the clock instead.
The second hand moved with irritating slowness. Audra kept her posture calm, pen poised over the notebook while she tracked the time carefully.
When ten minutes had passed, the housekeeper blinked.
Her focus returned in stages.
"Miss Sloane," she said, rubbing lightly at her temple, "did you call for me?"
"Could you bring me a mug of warm milk, please?"
The housekeeper nodded and left the room.
Audra lowered her pen.
Ten minutes.
When she had used the ring before, she had not kept track of how long the influence lasted without a direct command. Her grandfather had asked her to study the artifact carefully, and that meant she needed actual observations instead of vague impressions.
She wrote down the time.
The earlier tests had given her enough to suspect that the ring affected people differently depending on what Audra asked of them. Nora’s perception of Cyrus had changed. Cyrus had answered questions while his awareness dulled. The housekeeper had simply stood in place until the influence wore off.
None of those uses had felt identical.
Audra’s attention drifted toward the ring.
When she had controlled the housekeeper, no strange urge had risen in her. There had been no sudden need to test boundaries or punish someone for answering badly.
The only unusual thought had appeared when the housekeeper turned her face slightly and Audra noticed her lips.
Cyrus had come to mind.
Audra looked away from the ring.
That was not the housekeeper’s fault. It was not even truly about her. The memory belonged to the rooftop stairwell, where Cyrus had sat beneath the ring’s influence and Audra had made a decision she could not fully explain afterward.
She touched her own mouth.
The sensation had not faded.
The door opened.
The housekeeper returned with the milk and set it carefully on the desk.
Audra stopped her before she could leave.
"Wait here for a moment."
The housekeeper turned.
Audra raised her hand.
The pink stone caught the light.
The woman’s expression emptied again.
Audra did not speak. She only removed the ring from her finger, threaded it onto the chain around her neck, and picked up the mug.
Then she walked out of the room.
The hallway outside was empty. Moonlight fell across the floor from a tall window at the far end, pale against the dark wood and framed family portraits.
Audra stood beside the glass and waited.
A short while later, the housekeeper stepped out of the room with an uncertain pause in her movements. She looked down the hall, then back toward Audra’s bedroom, as though she had forgotten why she had been standing there.
Her attention lingered on Audra for a second longer than usual.
Then she continued downstairs.
Audra took another note in her mind.
When the ring was removed and distance opened between them, the influence ended immediately. The subject remembered enough to feel uncertain, but not enough to identify the cause.
That was useful.
A person could not reasonably connect a few missing minutes to a piece of jewelry.
Audra lifted the warm mug and drank slowly.
She wore a white lounge dress, and the moonlight sharpened the outline of her reflection in the window. The ring rested against her collarbone on its thin chain.
The glamourkin artifact had limits.
It also had effects she did not understand.
Why had controlling a woman left her mostly unaffected, while controlling Cyrus had turned a simple punishment into something else? Why had the ring sharpened that impulse only around him?
Audra’s fingers brushed the pink stone.
Her grandfather had suggested that the first person of the opposite sex might trigger a different effect.
Cyrus had been the first.
The thought refused to settle.
Perhaps the only way to understand the ring was to use it on him again.
Monday morning arrived before Cyrus felt ready for it.
He had slept later than usual, then rushed through getting dressed while holding an energy bar between his teeth. His hair had not settled properly, his bag felt heavier than it should have, and he wanted nothing more than to make it through the school day without anyone deciding to become a problem.
Apartment 202 was waiting for him.
Daphne stood outside her door with a sandwich in one hand and a packed lunch in the other.
She looked polished enough for school, her hair neat and her expression controlled. The sight would have been more convincing if Cyrus had not known exactly how much trouble could sit behind that calm face.
He stopped in front of his own door.
Daphne held out the food.
"Living on that stuff for breakfast is not good for you," she said. "Take these instead."
Cyrus accepted both.
The personal alarm stayed in his jacket pocket.
He could feel its hard plastic shape against his side, which made accepting the sandwich much easier. Daphne might have been trying to win him over, wear him down, or lure him into another conversation.
At the moment, she was also handing him breakfast.
Cyrus inspected the sandwich.
Daphne caught the suspicious glance.
"The food is not drugged," she said.
"I know you got carried away and treated me badly," she added. "I can make amends."
"Then start making amends."
Cyrus said it without looking at her and headed toward the stairs.
Daphne followed for two steps.
"I can drive you to school."
Cyrus looked back over his shoulder.
"I am worried your car has good soundproofing."
Daphne went quiet.
Cyrus continued down the stairs before she could think of an answer.
Outside, the air had cooled enough to make the walk pleasant. October had finally started acting like October. Cyrus unwrapped half the sandwich while he walked and found that it tasted better than he expected.
Daphne’s cooking was irritatingly reliable.
Her silver car rolled out of the parking area a few moments later and followed along the street at a distance that was not quite close enough to count as escorting him.
Cyrus ignored it.
By the time he reached St. Alder Academy, the crowd near the front entrance had grown thicker than usual.
Students had gathered around the fountain outside the main building, leaving a narrow path along the edge for anyone trying to get to class. Cyrus slowed when he saw the reason for the crowd.
A boy stood in the middle of a large circle of roses.
The flowers had been arranged around his shoes in a dramatic red ring. He held another bouquet in both hands, his face tense as he looked at the person standing across from him.
Audra.
"I really, really like you," the boy said. "Will you go out with me?"
Audra did not answer.
Her posture remained composed, but her attention had sharpened. She stood a few feet from the roses with one hand resting near the strap of her bag, watching him as though she was trying to decide whether this was merely embarrassing or likely to become a larger problem.
Students whispered around Cyrus.
"Did he not do something like this last semester too?"
"He did. He even picked the same time of year."
"That level of commitment is almost impressive."
Cyrus looked at Audra once more.
Being beautiful looked exhausting.
He had no reason to stay, so he slipped around the edge of the crowd and headed toward the building.
The confession had nothing to do with him.
Audra’s attention found him anyway.
Across the fountain and the circle of roses, she watched Cyrus walk away without looking back.