Private My Dahlia

[Arq*]

"You already are," Arq quipped. Then he leaned in. "And you've already watched. What do you really want?"

 

[Baird Throne]

The bartender returned with the drink. Baird raised it slowly, inhaling its scent.

"Hypothetically," Baird began, "what would you do if your establishment became home to something... dangerous? Beautiful, yes. Tragic, perhaps. But... volatile."

 

[Arq*]

Arq's ring pulsed lavender. He said nothing.

 

[Baird Throne]

"Say, for example, that someone danced so exquisitely they stole hearts—only to eventually crave the ones still beating."

 

[Arq*]

The club noise faded. Not in volume, but in Arq's awareness. The conversation was now a world apart.

He looked Baird up and down. "This sounds like the beginning of a fairy tale, darling. Or a threat wrapped in a bedtime story."

 

[Baird Throne]

"Not a threat. A courtesy," Baird said gently. "I don't traffic in melodrama."

 

[Arq*]

Arq finally slid into the stool next to him, lowering his voice. "She's stable. She feeds, she's self-aware. She's finding herself. And she's mine—meaning I watch her. Train her. Love her."

 

[Baird Throne]

Baird's expression didn't change, but something flared behind the eyes. A flicker of… pity?

"You love her," he echoed. "Then you'll be the first one she destroys when the time comes."

 

[Arq*]

Arq stiffened. "You don't know her."

 

[Baird Throne]

"I know what she is. And what lies beneath her silk-and-sigh exterior isn't sweet." He sipped the bloodfruit. "You're buying time with forest vermin and denial. But it's just that—time. The rage will come. The hunger will break her. And when it does…"

He set the glass down, perfectly centered.

"…your Gilded Veil will become a graveyard soaked in glitter."

 

[Arq*]

Arq said nothing. The words slithered like frost into his heart. But he didn't flinch. Not yet.

"And you've been watching her." Arq stated coldly.

 

[Baird Throne]

Baird tilted his head. "Of course. She's... remarkable. Tragic things often are. But don't worry. I won't touch her."

He smiled faintly. "I don't need to. Time is doing that just fine."

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee, in the upper dressing balcony, stood behind a beaded curtain. She couldn't hear the conversation. But she felt it. Her chest constricted like a violin string pulled taut. That figure. That scent. That presence. It was the same one from the rooftop. The alley. The shadow that never moved unless it chose to.

Her hands trembled on the railing.

 

[Baird Throne]

Below, Baird stood up from his stool, gave Arq a courteous nod, and walked toward the exit without haste.

As he passed the edge of the curtain, he paused.

Without turning, he spoke low—just loud enough for Arq, and perhaps Chelsee, to hear:

"I'll come again. I'd prefer not to return for the aftermath."

And with that, he vanished into the smoke and crowd. No one stopped him. No one saw him leave.

But everyone felt less when he was gone. Like something had taken a part of the room with him.

 

[Arq*]

The Veil slept.

Curtains were drawn, lights dimmed to a soft lavender pulse that mimicked a heartbeat. The perfume of crushed roses and sweat lingered in the air like an afterthought. Most of the dancers had gone home or curled up on the upper levels in silk robes and thick socks, half-drunk on champagne and compliments. Even Ravvi had offered a rare "goodnight" to Chelsee without sarcasm before disappearing into the rain.

Chelsee sat backstage in the deep lounge with Arq. The space was shadowy and quiet, meant for post-performance decompression—tea, balm patches, giggles, tears. But tonight, only two voices remained.

Arq poured a double measure of smoked brandy into a glass shaped like a tear. His face was unreadable as he handed it over.

"That was no ordinary man."

He perched on the edge of a velvet ottoman, fingers twining nervously in the hem of his long sleeve. "His name's Baird Throne. And he's been circling you like an orbiting storm cloud. He asked for me like we were discussing code violations, Chelsee. But it wasn't that. It was a warning."

 

[Chelsee Gray]

She sipped. "Then it's good he warned someone."

 

[Arq*]

Arq narrowed his eyes. "He knows what you are."

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee gave a slow nod, lowering the glass. "Doesn't surprise me."

 

[Arq*]

"But he's like you, isn't he?" Arq whispered. "Same... appetite. But different rules. And worse, I think."

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee tilted her head. "You're scared of him."