Chapter 84: Rhae Sent Him the Bill

Rhae made Dante move his boots before she agreed to let him look handsome at the bar. The mop golem had reached his stool twice, inspected the obstruction, and returned with a smaller brush that somehow made the complaint more personal.

"You were blocking its route," she said, setting an empty crate beside him.

"I was providing it with a challenge," he said, moving one boot.

"It gets paid in floor polish. Stop making its job interesting." Dante moved his feet and took the crate to the stack beside the delivery door. The Copper Turtle’s kitchen dragon lay beneath the warming shelf, heating the last pan with one bored breath while a cook argued with a lid that refused to stay down.

Rhae finished counting the bottles from her order. Her dark hair had been tied clear of her horns, and the tail moving behind her stool kept the empty crate from slipping when a passing worker nudged it. Dante watched that small movement with considerably more interest than stacking required.

She caught him. "If you wanted another job, you could carry the two by the door."

"I was admiring efficient management," he replied, accepting the empty crate.

"Then admire it with both hands." He carried the crates. It was satisfying work when he did not imagine it as a punishment, and she had asked him here before the evening could become another argument about the stage.

After her shift, they took a table in the sheltered courtyard. The bar remained visible through the glass, with staff clearing the last outside seats and the mop golem winning a long dispute against a sticky patch beneath a bench.

Rhae placed her sales notes between them. "The smaller bottles sold first."

"You said people wanted something they could finish before going back to the game."

She looked pleased that he remembered. "And they bought another later instead of carrying a warm half-bottle around."

Dante studied the costs she had marked. She had paid for the ingredients, kept the waste lower than before, and put some of the return aside for the next batch. It was not a grand sum. It was hers, which made the numbers look more impressive than a borrowed crown.

"Would a different label make the small one easier to find?" he asked.

"Yes, if it stayed readable instead of turning into a painting."

"I could lend it my name," he offered, considering the possibilities.

"You could pay for the ink." He pictured an imperial edition at a price the ingredients would struggle to justify. Rhae watched the idea appear on his face and laughed before he spoke.

"No. I already know what that expression costs."

"Your refusal came before the proposal," he said, surrendering the notes.

"Experience saved us time." She slid the notes away when they had finished, giving the table back to the reason they were both there. Dante noticed the change and set his phone facedown beside his cup.

A paper lantern beside their table opened its folded sides when the courtyard darkened. Warm light reached her face, and Dante moved his cup out of its little pool of brightness so she could see the final figures clearly. She finished checking the total, put the pencil down, and caught him watching. He did not pretend the accounts had become unusually beautiful. She seemed to prefer that answer, drawing the notes toward herself with a smile that made the empty place beside him feel like an invitation he should not waste.

Rhae rested her hand close to his. "I wanted a night that didn’t start because someone needed a drink after making a terrible decision."

"I came because I wanted to see you."

"You saw me carrying crates for most of it."

"That was included." Her fingers touched his. The contact was light enough to leave him a choice and certain enough that his imagination supplied several replies unfit for the courtyard.

He liked her mouth, the amused confidence in it, and the way she waited for him to finish thinking rather than rescuing him from the thought. He also liked the notes she had put away. Wanting both things at once felt less complicated than his mind usually managed.

"I was glad the order worked," he said. "You planned it before anybody offered you an audience."

Rhae’s smile softened without losing its edge. "That almost sounded like a useful compliment."

"I can try something worse if you’re uncomfortable."

"You probably will." He laughed and turned his hand under hers. There was no crowd waiting to decide what the moment meant. A staff member carried a tray past the courtyard door, nodded to Rhae, and kept walking.

Dante asked whether she wanted to come closer. She stood, moved to the chair beside him, and answered by settling her knee against his. His inner council immediately abandoned its financial duties. One member suggested discussing long-term strategic value, which he refused to let anywhere near his mouth.

"I’d like to kiss you," he said instead.

"See? You could survive a sentence without a title."

He glanced at her mouth. "I make no promises about what happens after it."

Rhae touched the front of his coat and drew him the small distance she wanted.

He kissed her, and Rhae smiled against his mouth before drawing him close again. For a while, he let her decide when the conversation could continue.

They stayed together afterward while the kitchen lights dimmed behind the glass. Rhae told him about a customer who had asked whether a potion could fix his taste in men, and Dante suggested that selling him ordinary water would at least improve one decision. She laughed against his shoulder, then told him the customer had been a woman. He accepted the correction without withdrawing his recommendation.

The conversation drifted into things neither needed to solve immediately. He asked where she wanted the business to go. She asked what he would put in the study room if nobody let him buy a throne.

"A chair with all four legs," he said. "I’ve become difficult about those."

"That sounded achievable," she said, still smiling about the imagined room.

"With adequate support." She squeezed his hand, and he let the answer stay small.

When it was time to leave, they collected their things and said goodbye properly. He waited until she had gone back through the staff door before checking his phone. The university had sent the time for Nell’s conduct meeting. His account was requested as a witness, with a reminder to distinguish what he had seen from what he had later been told. Beneath it waited a message from Evan.

He did not ask Dante to choose a side or threaten to tell the whole campus. He asked whether Dante would confirm that he had tried to leave and that Nell lowered the bar only when told. Dante read the second part easily. He had seen it himself. The first would require him to say exactly where he had arrived in the story, without letting Nell’s fear decide what the truth could afford to include.