Chương 15: The House Always Wins

Eighty years had passed since Black Hollow House. Yes, I know. That's a rather substantial leap forward, but I'm an ageless monster, so you can get over it. Did you truly want every tedious detail from the last eight decades? Every bandit I drained, every caravan I "rescued," and every dull mercenary errand where some sobbing farmer begged me to save his cow from wolves before looking personally wounded when I demanded payment? No, you didn't want that. Should you disagree, then I am deeply concerned for you.

A great deal changed over those years, and Graymere was the first, as cities always did. Humans loved pretending their homes were permanent while constantly tearing them apart and rebuilding them with worse taste. Shops changed owners, guildmasters retired, and children became adults before eventually becoming corpses whose grandchildren whispered stories about things they had never witnessed. Adrian, Celeste, and I remained exactly the same. Naturally, that became a problem. At first, people praised our beauty.

Then they commented on our health, followed by our "remarkable preservation," as one powdered old merchant described it, before Celeste politely suggested that he stop staring at my face unless he wished to lose his own. I enjoyed that particular day. During the first decade, our failure to age was treated as an oddity. By the second, it had become gossip. The third brought suspicion, and by the fourth, people had begun creating explanations.

Some believed a saint had blessed us, while others whispered that we had struck some bargain with demons. One particularly drunk mercenary claimed I preserved my youth by bathing in virgin blood, which was offensive for several reasons. I had standards. By the fiftieth year, Graymere had outlived its usefulness. The city itself remained sprawling and crowded, filled with markets, smoke, alleys, inns, and desperate people carrying purses. What had diminished was everything it could offer us.

The mercenary guild had almost nothing left worth accepting. We had completed every dangerous contract, destroyed every notorious monster nest, cleared half the surrounding bandit routes, and frightened enough nobles that the sight of violet cloth at court made them visibly uneasy. Even my modest helping business had grown stale.

There were only so many times I could rescue a caravan, demand half its gold, and listen to a merchant gasp the word "half" as though I had requested his organs before the charm began to fade. Fear was not the true death of pleasure. Boredom was present. One evening, while the three of us sat inside the house Celeste and Adrian had invited me to share, Celeste placed a stack of documents on the table.

"We need a family name," Celeste announced. I looked from her to the stack of documents on the table. Adrian sat beside her, wearing the expression of a man who had known this conversation was coming and wisely decided not to interfere.

"Why exactly do we need one?" Celeste folded her hands.

"Because continuing with only our first names is becoming inconvenient."

"Inconvenient for whom?"

"Anyone attempting to register our property, accounts, or legal relationship to one another." I glanced down at the documents again.

"That sounds like their problem."

"Unfortunately, they have made it ours." Celeste folded her hands upon the table. She still possessed that warm, patient smile that made people lower their defenses immediately before she calmly rearranged their lives. Adrian nodded once in agreement. I turned my eyes toward him.

"You have chosen death." He looked at Celeste.

"I chose marriage first. Death has been waiting politely ever since." Celeste laughed, while I merely considered doing so. She slid one of the documents across the table.

"Land ownership, guild registration, banking arrangements, travel permissions, and business dealings all require proper records. Every serious institution wants names, titles, family relations, and documented histories. Should we leave Graymere, which I believe we should, we will need something more stable than three beautiful people who refuse to age and possess suspiciously incomplete histories."

"I prefer remaining suspiciously incomplete."

"I know you do," Celeste replied.

"However, I prefer being useful." I picked up the document between two fingers as though it might begin rotting.

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"We create a household name."

"A noble house?"

"Not officially, and certainly not yet. It could become one later if the need arises." Adrian rested one arm along the back of Celeste's chair, his posture relaxed but attentive. He rarely interrupted while she worked through an idea. Over the years, I had learned that he trusted her mind as completely as she trusted his blade.

"She's right," he admitted.

"People already treat us as something separate from ordinary mercenaries. A house name would give them a target to respect or fear." Celeste smiled at him.

"That was almost poetic."

"It was practical."

"Practical things can still be poetic." I leaned back in my chair.

"What name have you chosen for me, since I'm apparently being domesticated like an expensive wolf?" Celeste's eyes brightened.

"I've prepared several suggestions."

"I reject all of them."

"You haven't heard any yet."

"I saw the expression in your eyes." Adrian's mouth twitched, but Celeste ignored both of us and unfolded a small sheet of paper.

"What do you think of Ravencroft?"

"I think it's terrible."

"Then perhaps Veyr?"

"That is also terrible."

"What about Duskmere?"

"That one is significantly worse."

"Perhaps Voss would suit us."

"Don't think so." Celeste glanced down the list.

"What about Vaust?" I paused at the sound of it. Vaust possessed weight without feeling delicate or overly decorated. The hard ending reminded me of a door closing or a blade locking into place. It didn't sound like a plea, nor did it carry the legacy of anyone I hated. It sounded invented, claimed, and stolen from the mouth of the world before being made entirely mine. Celeste noticed my silence and naturally pounced upon it.

"You like that one."

"I said nothing of the sort." My gaze slightly looked away from her smiling face.

"You stopped insulting it."

"I was considering more effective insults."

"Helena Vaust," she murmured, testing the sound. Adrian repeated it with less softness and considerably more certainty.

"Helena Vaust." Who would've thought it sounded so good off the tongue?

"The name is acceptable." I murmured while keeping a straight face. Celeste beamed.

"That's wonderful."

"It's not wonderful. It's functional."

"Of course, Mother." My entire body froze. Adrian suddenly found the wall fascinating. I slowly turned back toward Celeste.

"What did you just call me?"

"I called you, Mother."

"You will not do that again."

"It's the most accurate relationship for the registry."

"It absolutely is not." She tapped one finger against the document.

"We cannot be listed as your siblings."

"Obviously not. I refuse to be considered your sister."

"Precisely," Celeste replied.

"We also cannot be listed as your spouses because Adrian is my husband, and you would probably murder a clerk for suggesting such an arrangement."

"I would murder two clerks."

"That leaves guardianship, patronage, adoption, or a direct family line."

"I'm not old enough to be your mother." Adrian raised one eyebrow. I pointed at him.

"I meant physically." Celeste leaned closer and rested her elbows upon the table.

"In essence, we're your kin. You created us, and your blood remade our bodies. Our immortality came from you. Among humans, a parent gives life. Among vampires, you gave us a second one." I hated how reasonable that sounded. The entire argument was vile.

"You're both older than I am if we measure from birth," I reminded them.

"And we're considerably younger if we measure from death," Adrian countered. My eyes narrowed.

"You're enjoying this conversation."

"I'm enjoying it a little." Celeste reached across the table and touched my hand. She did so gently, giving me ample time to pull away. Once, I would've done exactly that. After all this time, I merely glared at her fingers as though they had committed treason.

"We need a structure," she explained.

"It doesn't change what we are, but the world demands words before it allows power to stand openly." Her voice softened.

"Whether you like the word or not, you're the beginning of us." That was unfair. Celeste possessed a remarkable talent for making emotional declarations sound like financial strategy, which made them considerably more difficult to avoid. I looked toward Adrian.

"Do you agree with her?" He took a moment before answering, as he always did when the matter carried real weight.

"I do," he replied.

"Celeste and I may not need the title ourselves, but the rest of the world will. If others insist on understanding our hierarchy, then they should understand it correctly. We don't stand beside you in blood, Helena. We come from you." Celeste squeezed my hand.

"Additionally," she added, "the title bothers you, which makes using it slightly delightful."

"There it is." Her smile returned in full. Before I could reconsider, I took the quill and signed the name. Helena Vaust. Beneath my name on the household registry, Adrian and Celeste were formally recorded as my son and daughter. The arrangement was absurd, irritatingly accurate, and far too permanent for my liking. I despised it enough to complain and accepted it enough to keep it. Naturally, once the paperwork existed, they abused it relentlessly.

"Good morning, Mother," Celeste greeted the following day as she entered the dining room. I threw a napkin at her. Adrian caught it before it struck her face.

"Thank you, dear," she told him.

"You're both traitors." Celeste sat beside me rather than across, close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed mine. She had grown comfortable doing that over the decades, occupying my space as though she had personally negotiated a treaty with my temper. Adrian settled on her other side, as he usually did, near enough that their hands could find each other without conscious thought. The way they arranged themselves around me was strange. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen.

Report the violation. Adrian loved Celeste with the steady devotion of a well-maintained blade. Whenever she stood, he remained nearby. When she laughed, his attention shifted toward her, and whenever danger entered a room, he placed himself between it and her before anyone else finished drawing breath. Celeste loved him with equal ferocity. Yet she also hovered near me whenever possible, not from fear or obedience but from affection. Worse than affection, she displayed comfort.

It was as though I were some hearth she had decided belonged to her. She called me Mother because the word amused her, certainly, but also because some part of her had accepted it in a way I didn't know how to oppose. Eventually, I stopped fighting it. Mostly… Once the registry was complete and the name Vaust began appearing on all our documents, there was little reason to remain in Graymere. We didn't disappear during the night like frightened criminals.

I had no desire to skulk away from a city that had profited considerably from my presence. We sold the house, settled our debts, collected every coin owed to us, and walked through the western gate beneath a pale morning sky while half the city watched from windows and alleys.

"She's really leaving?"

"That is Lady Vaust now, is it not?"

"She looks exactly the same as she did when my grandmother was young."

"You should stop staring." Naturally, I turned and stared directly at them. One man dropped an entire sack of flour. Celeste sighed beside me.

"Was that truly necessary?"

"It was entirely necessary."

"You frightened him."

"He was whispering about me."

"He was already afraid."

"Then his instincts were correct." Adrian walked on Celeste's other side with one hand resting near his sword.

"Graymere will miss us."

"It will miss our money," I replied.

"It may also miss the reduced number of monsters," Celeste added.

"Then the city should've offered better tribute."

"You mean payment," she corrected automatically.

"Tribute sounds superior."

"It also sounds as though you intend to become a tyrant." I smiled. Celeste looked toward Adrian.

"I walked directly into that response."

"You certainly did." We traveled for several weeks before reaching Stonehaven, one of the oldest and wealthiest kingdoms in that part of the world. It had existed long before Graymere became anything more than mud, smoke, and a collection of men arguing over ownership of a pig. Stonehaven possessed walls of truly enormous proportions. Humans adored walls. They looked upon stone and imagined safety, while I saw arrogance piled high enough to cast shade. Nevertheless, I could appreciate skilled craftsmanship.

The outer walls were constructed from pale gray stone hauled from mountain quarries and fitted so tightly that even the rain seemed uncertain where it might enter. Towers rose at measured intervals, each crowned with banners displaying the royal crest of a silver crown above a mountain. The entire display radiated pride and wealth, though the banners looked conveniently flammable.

Outside the gates sprawled the lesser districts, which consisted of inns, stables, warehouses, muddy roads, shouting traders, hungry children, exhausted guards, and all the usual misery that gathered wherever wealth locked itself behind stone. Once we crossed into the inner city, however, Stonehaven changed its face completely. Its streets were clean and lined with marble fountains, glass windows, and lanterns burning with enchanted flame.

Shops displayed dyed silks, imported wines, jewelry, perfumes, rare spices, carved ivory, monster-bone ornaments, and countless other objects humans purchased whenever they possessed too much money and too little personality. Celeste slowed as we entered the inner city, her eyes shining with interest.

"It's beautiful."

"It's bloated." Adrian watched a passing carriage whose black lacquered sides were trimmed with gold.

"Bloated things tend to bleed well." Celeste glanced between us.

"The two of you understand that normal families don't speak this way, correct?"

"We're not a normal family." Her smile softened.

"No, we certainly are not." I just sighed at their words, unable to refute. Stonehaven was perfect. Its perfection had nothing to do with goodness. Good cities bored me. Stonehaven was wealthy, proud, corrupt, hungry, and polished enough to pretend that none of those qualities were true. Nobles filled its upper districts, while merchants controlled its lower courts.

Guilds operated in every corner, soldiers drank excessively, clerks accepted bribes with clean hands, and priests preached humility beneath roofs covered in gold leaf. Everywhere I looked, people wanted more status, coin, influence, pleasure, and excuses to believe they deserved what others lacked. Greed flourished throughout Stonehaven like mold beneath a painted ceiling, and I adored it. Initially, we returned to mercenary work because it offered the easiest means of establishing ourselves.

Stonehaven's guild was larger than Graymere's had ever been, with better contracts and considerably more dangerous requests. For a time, the work entertained us. We hunted wyverns among the northern cliffs, destroyed a necromancer's bone choir beneath an abandoned chapel, slaughtered a nest of river ghouls, and ended a noble feud by allowing both sides to hire us before revealing that each had paid for protection from the other. That particular week was extremely profitable.

Within ten years, the guild ranked us among its strongest members. Within twenty, its leaders stopped pretending that anyone else belonged above us. We were awarded the rank of S. Humans loved letters almost as much as they loved walls. The title had its uses. It made officials hesitate, forced nobles to reconsider their threats, and encouraged the guild to think carefully before wasting our time with foolish requests. Most importantly, it provided us with a reputation that entered rooms before we did.

Mercenary work alone, however, was not enough. It paid well, but it still required traveling wherever someone else pointed. I had already done enough of that when my father sold me, and I didn't intend to spend eternity obeying frightened men sitting behind desks. The idea came to me during a horse race outside Stonehaven's eastern district. A group of nobles had gathered within private stands, wrapped in silk and velvet while screaming over which sweating animal would cross a painted line first.

They wagered obscene amounts of money, cursed, prayed, and shouted advice that the horses could not hear. One elderly lord nearly fainted when his chosen horse stumbled. Another kissed a jeweled ring and promised a god he had likely ignored for twenty years that he would become a better man should his wager succeed. His horse lost. He immediately blamed the jockey. I watched the entire spectacle from beneath a black parasol and felt something remarkably close to inspiration.

That evening, within the private parlor of our rented townhouse, I placed a gold coin upon the table and spun it beneath one finger. Celeste sat beside me with a ledger open before her. Her chair remained angled close to mine despite the size of the room, while Adrian occupied his usual position on her other side. One arm rested across the back of her chair as his attention drifted between the window and us.

"Humans are wonderful creatures." Celeste looked up sharply.

"That sentence concerns me."

"It should concern you." Adrian's attention shifted fully toward me.

"What did you see?"

"I witnessed greed." Celeste blinked.

"That is hardly uncommon."

"It's not uncommon, but Stonehaven has refined it. In Graymere, greed wore muddy boots. Here, it wears silk and calls itself ambition." Her mouth curved into a smile.

"That was rather good."

"I'm aware."

"You intend to exploit it."

"Obviously." Adrian appeared faintly amused.

"How do you plan to accomplish that?" I caught the coin before it could fall flat.

"We create a place that's beautiful, exclusive, and dangerous in all the correct ways. Nobles, merchants, mercenaries, criminals, officers, and bored heirs will gather there to wager away money they believe they deserve." Celeste slowly closed her ledger.

"That sounds like a gambling hall."

"It will be a casino." Both of them stared at me. Adrian tilted his head.

"What exactly is a casino?"

"It's a better word." Celeste leaned forward.

"Did you invent it?"

"Perhaps I did."

"You invented a word for a business that doesn't exist yet?"

"I'm planning ahead." She smiled.

"Mother, that idea is either genius or madness."

"Most profitable ideas contain both." Adrian looked toward the window, where Stonehaven's lights burned beyond the glass.

"A gambling house would attract trouble."

"It certainly would." A small smirk fell upon my lips.

"There would be cheaters, thieves, drunks, and nobles nursing wounded pride."

"That sounds correct." My mouth widened even further.

"Criminal interests would also become involved."

"That seems likely." He looked back at me.

"We would require strict security."

"That's why you exist." Celeste tapped one finger against her closed ledger.

"The business would also require careful money management."

"That is why you exist." She raised one eyebrow.

"What precisely will you be doing?" I smiled. They sighed simultaneously, which was rather rude. We purchased a large estate near the western district, close enough to the noble quarter to smell expensive perfume and far enough from the palace that royal officials would need to make an effort whenever they wished to irritate me. The building had once belonged to a noble family that destroyed itself through debt, duels, and one suspicious hunting accident involving three brothers and a crossbow.

I respected their efficiency. The estate possessed black iron gates, a broad courtyard, three floors, a ballroom, several private salons, servant quarters, expansive cellars, and enough hidden passages that I suspected its former owners had been either paranoid or entertaining. I named the establishment Vaust Casino. Celeste attempted to argue.

"Vaust Hall sounds more respectable," she suggested as we stood within the dust-choked ballroom.

"Respectable establishments die poor."

"What about the Violet House?"

"That sounds like a brothel."

"Perhaps the Gilded Violet?"

"That sounds like an expensive brothel." Adrian stood beside Celeste while inspecting the cracked balcony rail.

"We could call it the Gilded Fang." Celeste turned toward him.

"That sounds like someone will be murdered there." He considered the objection.

"That will eventually be accurate."

"Adrian, you're not helping." In the end, the name remained Vaust Casino. Unfortunately, it wasn't the grand version I might someday build. There were no slot machines or glittering mechanical beasts designed to swallow coins before occasionally rewarding fools with noise. This world hadn't yet invented anything so delightful, and I possessed no idea how to construct one.

I could tear a man apart, survive fire, heal from horrific wounds, and reduce stone to violet dust, but apparently building a coin-devouring machine required abilities beyond my divine monstrosity. Perhaps that was a personal failing. I made a note to locate better blacksmiths in the future, or whatever blacksmiths eventually became after discovering mathematics, gears, and arrogance.

Until then, we made do with cards, dice, wheels, private betting rooms, racing books, dueling odds, and high-stakes tables where nobles could lose their ancestral wealth beneath glittering chandeliers. Renovating the estate required several months. I hired builders, carpenters, glassworkers, cooks, dealers, servers, musicians, guards, accountants, and servants. Every employee received far better wages than anyone else in Stonehaven would've offered them. The generous wages were not an act of kindness.

I paid well because properly compensated employees had fewer reasons to steal. Once everyone understood the value of their positions, I explained the rules required to keep them. There would be no theft, cheating, selling of secrets gathered within my walls, harming of staff, or drawing of weapons without instruction. Most importantly, no one was permitted to touch anything belonging to House Vaust. The first thief showed up in only eleven days. He was a dealer with quick fingers and a tragic lack of imagination.

Adrian caught him slipping gaming chips into a hidden pocket during a crowded table game. We gathered the staff in the main hall. The dealer knelt upon the polished floor, trembling so violently that his teeth clicked together. Celeste stood close beside me, near enough that her sleeve brushed mine, while Adrian waited behind the thief in absolute silence. I crouched before the man.

"Do you understand why I pay you well?" He swallowed.

"Please show mercy, Lady Vaust. I have a family."

"Then you should've valued your ability to provide for them." Every trace of color fled his face. Celeste touched my arm lightly, drawing my attention toward her. Her expression was serious but not pleading. She had changed over the decades. The woman who once hesitated to feed had not vanished, but Celeste had hardened around her compassion and shaped it into something far more useful than softness.

"Make the lesson clear," she murmured.

"But don't make it wasteful." I took her advice and ensured the lesson wouldn't be forgotten. I allowed the man to live and retain both of his hands, although taking them had possessed a certain charm. Adrian beat him within an inch of his life before throwing him into the street with enough coin to leave Stonehaven forever. Afterward, honesty flourished.

"It's remarkable how quickly morality improves when consequences become visible," I observed a week later as Celeste and I watched the gaming floor from the upper balcony. She held her ledger against her chest.

"Fear improves obedience, while good wages encourage loyalty. You require both."

"That sounds suspiciously like something I taught you."

"It sounds more like something I learned by surviving you." Adrian stood on her other side.

"She has a point."

"You're both remarkably bold for people legally listed as my children." Celeste's eyes sparkled.

"Yes, Mother." I closed my eyes.

"I regret the invention of literacy." Over the following thirty years, Vaust Casino became a jewel within Stonehaven's greedy little crown. Nobles arrived first, pretending they had come only for the music or wine. Merchants followed because they wished to be seen wherever nobles gathered. Officers visited to wager upon duels and military campaigns they shouldn't have discussed publicly, while criminals came because profitable shadows always called to them.

Mercenaries, courtesans, spies, guildmasters, widows, heirs, foreign envoys, and men standing one bad card away from ruin all passed through my doors. Celeste managed the money with terrifying elegance. She could charm a countess, approve a shipment, expose a false account, renegotiate a debt, and destroy a merchant's confidence using arithmetic before dinner. Watching her work was almost artistic. She smiled warmly while moving numbers like knives. Adrian ruled security.

He trained our guards to do more than stand beside walls and look decorative. They learned to watch hands, breathing, posture, exits, sleeves, shoes, and silences. A man who lost too calmly was suspicious. A woman who laughed before the dice settled was suspicious. A noble arriving with too many servants was suspicious. Anyone who believed rank would protect them within my house was already doomed. The casino remained safe because everyone understood how dangerous it could become when its rules were broken.

That was the secret to maintaining order. Stonehaven had a king, of course, though I acknowledged him only when necessary. I understood that a man sat upon a throne and wore a crown, while generations bowed because their parents had done the same and because soldiers enforced the tradition. Within my walls, however, royal blood was merely ordinary blood wearing better jewelry. His son was the first to learn that lesson.

Prince Alaric entered Vaust Casino surrounded by friends, guards, perfume, and inherited confidence. He was handsome in the soft royal fashion, with golden hair, blue eyes, and a smile shaped by a lifetime of applause. He lost badly at cards, grew red-faced, consumed too much wine, and attempted to cheat. Adrian caught him before the false card settled upon the table. The entire room fell silent. The prince laughed.

"You should be careful. Do you know who I am?" I rose from my chair at the private table. Celeste stood beside me, close as ever, while Adrian remained near the prince with one hand resting calmly upon his sword.

"You're a poor gambler." The prince's smile sharpened.

"I'm the crown prince of Stonehaven."

"Yet you cheat like a drunken stable boy." One of his guards stepped forward. Adrian moved once. The guard struck the floor with a broken wrist while Adrian's boot rested lightly against his throat. Celeste placed her wineglass upon the table with a quiet click.

"I strongly advise everyone to remain calm." Prince Alaric stared at me while humiliation boiled beneath his skin.

"My father will hear about this."

"That's excellent. Tell him his son has been banned."

"You cannot ban me." I leaned closer.

"Should you continue testing me, I can drain you into a decorative bowl." For once, royalty discovered wisdom. His mouth clamped shut at my provocation. We removed him through the front doors without throwing him, although I considered doing so. The story spread throughout Stonehaven before dawn, and many expected retaliation. None ever came. Perhaps the king was wiser than his son.

He may have consulted the mercenary guild and learned exactly what kind of creatures he would be provoking or simply looked at the taxes my casino produced and decided his pride was not worth the cost. Whatever his reasoning, the palace left me alone. A wise decision… We continued hunting, naturally. Our thirst remained part of us regardless of how civilized our surroundings became. A thorough feeding could sustain us for weeks, particularly when the prey was strong.

Bandits, murderers, raiders, corrupt officials, monsters, and the occasional fool who mistook my staff for easy victims served well enough. I also continued helping people whenever the mood struck. Usually, I required payment, although occasionally I acted for entertainment. Once, a village elder begged us to save his settlement from a pack of wargs and offered three goats as compensation. I laughed so hard that Celeste had to answer him while I recovered.

We killed the wargs anyway because they were large enough to be interesting. Afterward, I collected proper payment from the local lord, who had apparently ignored the village's pleas for three weeks. I considered feeding upon him as well, but Celeste pointed out that draining local nobility every time they disappointed me would create excessive paperwork. She was correct. Annoyingly, she often was. By the eightieth year after Black Hollow House, my life had become almost comfortable.

It was not peaceful, because peace was merely a candle pretending the wind did not exist, but it was close enough. I had wealth, a name, a house, territory, and a reputation polished by equal measures of fear and gold. Adrian and Celeste had also become far more than the dying mercenaries I once dragged into eternity. Celeste was the bright, smiling mind of House Vaust, warm toward those she cared for and merciless toward anyone foolish enough to mistake kindness for weakness.

Adrian was its blade, quiet and constant, always near her, always watching, and always ready to turn violence into punctuation. As for me, I was Helena Vaust. I was the owner of Vaust Casino and a primordial vampire. Apparently, I was also Mother to two immortal nuisances who delighted in the title because it caused my eye to twitch.

At night, when the casino glowed beneath violet chandeliers and the air filled with music, wine, perfume, greed, and desperation, I often stood upon the upper balcony and watched fortune devour people one smile at a time. Celeste usually found her way beside me with a ledger tucked beneath her arm.

"You appear pleased," she observed one evening.

"I'm admiring my livestock."

"You mean our guests."

"I mean my wealthy livestock."

"The man at table seven is about to accuse the dealer of cheating." Adrian commented. Celeste looked downward.

"How can you tell?"

"His pride is louder than his losses." As predicted, the nobleman slammed one fist upon the table. I smiled.

"Go educate him." Adrian kissed Celeste's temple before descending the stairs. She watched him leave with softness in her eyes. Their love had endured death, blood, hunger, violence, and eighty years in my company, which was more than most marriages survived. I had to admit, it was rather impressive. Celeste glanced toward me.

"You're thinking loudly again."

"I do not think loudly."

"You brood with your posture."

"I'm not brooding."

"You're standing above a casino dressed in black and violet, staring down at mortals while pretending you're not emotionally attached to anything."

"That's not brooding. It's branding." She laughed softly. I should have hated the sound, but I did not. Below us, Adrian reached the troublesome nobleman, who paled before a single word was spoken. House Vaust had learned its own language, built from fear, gold, desire, protection, and rules. Stonehaven had its king, the church had its temples, and the guild had its halls. I had Vaust Casino. The king could keep his throne. Within my walls, fortune bowed to me.

After eighty years of blood, hunger, and irritation, my life had settled into something dangerously close to stability. I had learned long ago that stability was merely disaster waiting to happen. Eventually, something would disturb the peace. It always did.