Eirene did not let go of his hand. She did not drag him, exactly, but the difference was largely academic. She moved with quiet certainty, fingers closed around his wrist, already turning down the corridor as if his agreement had been assumed and filed.

  Orestis followed, his attention briefly shifting to the cluster of objects drifting alongside her.

  The spell was still crude. The control uneven, the mana expenditure excessive. She was also adjusting too aggressively, forcing corrections instead of letting the effect ease into stability.

  But she had chosen the right approach.

  Good instincts. Always good instincts. The control will come with practice.

  Unstructured spellwork demanded constant adjustment, which made it particularly effective at developing fine mana control. In his opinion, it was exactly where her focus should be now—especially since mana capacity would no longer be a limiting factor for her.

  They reached his door. Eirene turned the handle and pushed it without slowing. The door swung inward.

  His locked—and warded—door.

  Right. I meant to talk to her about that.

  Orestis closed the door behind them and asked, “Did you notice that the door was locked?”

  Eirene placed the floating items carefully on the table and glanced back at him. Then at the door, as though it might contradict him if given the chance.

  “No,” she said. After a pause, she added, “Was it?”

  He placed his hand on the handle, pressed it down, and pushed. The door held. Because it had been locked since he’d left for the Consortium that morning.

  “Yes,” he declared.

  Eirene opened her mouth, then paused, knitting her brows.

  He didn’t keep her in suspense. “There’s something you need to understand about Eleuthera’s blessing. It does not grant freedom in the abstract; it removes restriction.”

  She turned to give him her full attention.

  “When I say it prevents anything from restricting you,” he continued, “I mean that literally. Anything. Physical barriers. Magical bindings. Compulsions. If something exists for the sole purpose of preventing you from acting freely, the blessing invalidates it.”

  She frowned. “So the lock—”

  “Never mattered. Not once it was in your way.”

  She was quiet for a few seconds. “Does it choose when to do that?”

  “No,” he replied. “It does not choose; it responds.”

  Her expression shifted at that. The faint crease between her brows deepening with something closer to unease.

  “That seems…” she trailed off.

  “Dangerous?” Orestis finished for her. “Yes.”

  Especially since the blessing could not be controlled.

  Or could it?

  Perhaps it was an avenue worth pursuing—later, once her mana was no longer a liability. Orestis filed the thought away and picked up the ceramic vase to finish the warding enchantment.

  Eirene exhaled and folded her arms. “So what happens if someone tries to stop me?”

  “That depends on how they do it. And on what they are willing to risk without intending to.”

  Now that they were inside his wards, Orestis set the mana crystal aside and drew on divine power. The focused attention of a god settled on him immediately, punctual as ever.

  He paused—not out of concern, but in irritation. He knew exactly who was watching. The fact that Eirene showed no reaction confirmed the attention was meant only for him.

  Of course. Because watching me steal divine power is apparently the most entertaining thing happening in the cosmos right now.

  “There is an old story,” he continued, choosing to ignore the goddess and get on with his work. “A Chosen of Eleuthera was traveling alone. He was stopped on the road by bandits. They demanded his coin. He refused.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “That sounds unwise,” Eirene said.

  “It was—but that’s not the point,” Orestis said. “One of the bandits decided to take the coin anyway. The moment he stepped forward, he slipped. Fell badly. Broke his ankle.”

  He raised a finger to enunciate the point. “No one pushed him. No one cast any spells on him. More importantly, it wasn’t even Eleuthera acting on behalf of her Chosen.”

  “Then what?” Eirene asked, leaning forward.

  “It was simply the blessing, acting on its own. It refused to allow the coercion to complete itself. The moment force was applied to deny the Chosen’s choice, the world stopped cooperating.”

  Silence settled between them as she digested the information.

  Eirene looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers as if expecting to feel something different. “So it protects me,” she said at last.

  “No,” Orestis corrected. That kind of thinking was even more dangerous than ignorance. “It does not protect you. It does not punish others. It simply prevents you from being constrained without consent.”

  She met his gaze. “And if I choose to accept a restriction?”

  “Then it holds,” he said. “Freedom is not the absence of structure. It is the ability to refuse it.”

  He felt a shift in the quality of the gaze focused on him—a quiet approval, there for a moment before it faded.

  He suppressed a sigh. As if explaining her own doctrine correctly merits that much satisfaction.

  “Wait,” Eirene said, realisation dawning. “If refusal is one of the conditions, does that mean the blessing acts during negotiations as well?”

  Orestis smiled at her. He didn’t need to say it; she got it.

  Eirene let out a short, breathless laugh—more release than humour. “No wonder. Now I feel bad for all the people I haggled with. She really should have told me about this when she gave me this blessing.”

  “Yes,” Orestis said dryly, his gaze lifting for a fraction of a second. “She should have.”

  No reaction to his words this time. Which was expected—anything less than strong feelings rarely bled through.

  Eirene was quiet for a while as she absorbed the new information, recalibrating.

  “How much are you paying for your room?” she asked suddenly.

  He told her.

  She nodded and stood. “I’ll be back. I need to go correct something.”

  Eirene opened the door, then stopped, frowning as her eyes fell to the lock. After a moment, she shook her head. “I still don’t feel anything,” she muttered, closing the door behind her.

  Of course she didn’t. That was the point.

  Meanwhile, Orestis completed the work on the vase and picked up a candlestand. He turned it over in his hand and decided it would carry the temperature regulation enchantment. That fit the theme. He would add a second layer to encourage relaxation and restful sleep.

  The main runes for the warding scheme—those responsible for security, and divine power obscurement—were already in place. So were most supporting enchantments.

  Once the candlestand was done, only a handful would remain: noise suppression, a ward against sudden impacts, insect repulsion, mould and mildew inhibition, airborne toxin detection and neutralisation, and an enchantment to prevent fabrics from retaining odours or moisture.

  Mother always appreciated that last one.

  By the time he was done, there was very little Eirene’s room could do to make her uncomfortable.

  Orestis considered that acceptable.

  ***

  He heard the door handle rattle just before he finished the last line of a rune.

  Not insistently—just enough to register as an attempt. A moment later, there was a knock. Polite, measured, and entirely unnecessary under the circumstances.

  Orestis set the stylus aside. The divine attention receded as he cut the flow of divine power, Eleuthera’s focus shifting elsewhere.

  Good riddance. Temporary, no doubt.

  He opened the door to find Eirene looking entirely too pleased with herself—the quiet satisfaction of someone who had just confirmed a suspicion.

  Orestis raised a brow in silent question.

  “I tried something,” she said, gently tapping her temple. “I decided to respect your lock. Properly. I acknowledged it. Accepted that it was there for a reason, and that I had no intention of ignoring it. Then I tried to open the door.”

  She gestured toward the handle. “It stayed locked.”

  He did not respond immediately. His gaze flicked to the door, then back to her.

  That is… actually pretty informative.

  He smiled slowly, one hand rising to his chin as he considered the implications. If the blessing responded to intent rather than action alone—if conscious acceptance was sufficient to allow restriction to hold—then the mechanism was more nuanced than raw negation. That suggested boundaries. Possibly even control.

  “You’re thinking very loudly,” Eirene said after a moment. “Care to share?”

  “I was already considering the possibility of testing the blessing’s limits,” he replied. “Its mechanics, rather than its effects. But not yet.” He glanced at her, expression sharpening just enough to underline the point. “Your safety comes first. Aura activation should precede anything that would divert time and attention away from it.”

  She considered that, then nodded. “That seems reasonable. Though I don’t think my situation is that serious.”

  True—it wasn’t. But he had never trusted situations that relied on being lucky rather than prepared.

  “Oh. By the way,” she added. “You’ve just become Helena’s new favourite person.”

  He looked at her, confused. “Why?”

  “I told her you convinced me to pay the same rate for my room as you do for yours.”

  The confusion drained from his expression. He gave her a flat stare and repeated the question, tone subtly altered. “Why?”

  She waved a hand. “Because you’re far too reclusive for your own good, and a little goodwill will do you no harm. People like you more when they think you’re generous.”

  “That was not generosity,” he said.

  “Helena disagrees,” Eirene replied. “And she’s the one who matters in this equation.”

  I fail to see why an equation was needed there in the first place.

  She brushed past him, stepped back into the room, and reached into her coat. When she withdrew her hand, she was holding a sealed envelope, its heavy paper marked with an unfamiliar crest.

  “This arrived earlier,” she said. “I don’t know how they found out so quickly, but Helena received it this afternoon.” She turned the envelope over, then looked up at him. “It’s an invitation.”

  Orestis felt a flicker of suspicion. “To what?”

  “A ball,” she said simply. Then, after a brief pause, she met his gaze directly. “I want you to come with me.”

  The room seemed very quiet after that.

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