The Firefly’s Burden-Chapter 71: Morning Orders

The Firefly’s Burden-Chapter 71: Morning Orders

Dawn hit like an ambush.
One second I was wrapped in Cassie—her arm a human-sized seatbelt, her breath warm on my neck—the next, curtains screamed open and sunlight detonated across the room.
“Up,” Althaea barked.
The word was a spell of its own: commanding, merciless, painfully awake.
I burrowed deeper into the sheets, which were now my only remaining kingdom. Cassie’s arm tightened instinctively around my waist, protective and possessive all at once. I could feel the sleepy vibration of her groan against my shoulder blade.
“Tell the sun to die quieter,” I mumbled. My voice came out like gravel and sin.
Althaea didn’t dignify it with an answer. She strode across the room like a goddess of punctuality, boots clicking, braid sharp enough to file metal. She smelled faintly of lemon balm and iron discipline.
“Up. Briefing in twenty.”
Cassie’s muffled protest was pure art. “I can shower myself, thank you.”
“I can put on a uniform without supervision,” I added, eyes still closed.
Althaea, unflinching: “Evidence says otherwise.”
The blankets vanished with a single, surgical tug. Morning air slapped across skin. I yelped. Cassie swore creatively into the pillow.
Somewhere in the distance—okay, probably the hallway—Kael’s laugh echoed like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life.
Cassie rolled onto her back, squinting up at our tormentor. “Do you get a thrill from abusing exhausted duchesses?”
“I get a thrill from efficiency,” Althaea said, deadpan. “Feet on the floor.”
I groaned and flopped half-out of bed. The stone floor bit my toes; the chill ran straight to my spine, chasing away the last scraps of warmth. “This is tyranny.”
Cassie leaned over, voice still husky from sleep.
You could set her boots on fire,
she suggested through the ring, the thought sliding warm and wicked into my head.
Tempting,
I answered,
but she’d just stomp it out and make me write an apology essay about leadership afterward.
Cassie’s smirk curved slow.
Still worth it.
“Stop whispering in each other’s minds,” Althaea snapped. “You’re bad at keeping your faces neutral.”
Cassie arched an eyebrow. “You’re jealous because no one’s whispering in yours.”
That earned her a glare so precise it could have sliced fabric. “Bath. Now. Or I’ll personally drag you there.”
I snorted. “Careful, Cass. She means it. Remember last time?”
Althaea’s cheeks pinked just enough to notice before she turned away. “You deserved that.”
Oh, she’s blushing,
Cassie purred in my head.
We’re going to have so much fun with this later.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
“I can hear you,” Althaea said without turning back.
“Good,” Cassie said out loud. “Then you can also hear me saying that Aevryn would probably volunteer to wake you up this gently if you asked.”
That stopped her mid-stride. The tips of her ears went scarlet.
Cassie beamed, savage and victorious. I buried my face in the pillow to muffle a laugh.
“You’re both impossible,” Althaea muttered, collecting her composure one syllable at a time. “Five minutes. Then briefing.”
When she left, the door shut with military precision.
For three glorious seconds, silence returned.
Cassie flopped back down beside me, arm thrown over her eyes. “I think she’s into him.”
“Obviously,” I said. “The blushing alone could light a ward.”
Cassie turned her head toward me. “Maybe we should set them up. As an act of mercy.”
“Or revenge.”
Her grin was pure sunlight. “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
The bed smelled like her—citrus and warmth and something human that made my pulse climb. I wanted to stay right there, under blankets, skin to skin, until the world stopped demanding crowns and classes.
Instead, I sighed and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “If I don’t move, she’ll come back with a bucket of water.”
Cassie’s laughter brushed against my mind again.
I’d pay to see that.
You’d film it,
I corrected.
“Both,” she said, out loud this time, stretching like a cat before she finally stood. “Come on, Firefly. Let’s go survive our morning dictatorship.”
The tiles bit at my bare feet—tiny winter teeth in the stone. I shuffled toward the bath suite still half-asleep, Cassie behind me muttering about “conscription before coffee.”
Light flared; mirrors caught us like we’d stumbled into interrogation. Two disasters blinked back—hair everywhere, half-undressed, the kind of exhausted that lives in bones.
Cassie’s reflection tilted, smug and wicked. “Shared showers save time.”
Her voice wrapped around the words like silk on a blade. Steam unrolled from the taps, curling gold in the lantern-light. My brain tried to pick a thought—
we’re late
or
she’s beautiful
—and failed miserably.
“I hate that you make sense,” I grumbled, stepping in after her.
Hot water hit. The shock peeled the sleep from my skin; every droplet felt like memory trying to wake up. My fingers traced the seam of a tile—three taps, always three—until the sting evened out.
The bond hummed low under my ribs, lazy but alive.
Cassie’s laugh slid through it.
You’re thinking too loud,
she sent.
You’re standing too close,
I answered, already leaning closer.
The steam blurred the world down to color and breath. She moved—barely—and heat swarmed between us. My pulse stuttered. Her fingertips found my wrist, skated upward, mapping the path to my shoulder, then— her hand was on my breast tracing the outline of my now hard nipple.
My knees nearly forgot what standing was.
Focus,
she teased through the ring.
I am focusing,
I lied.
Her mouth brushed mine, light as static. The contact cracked through me, a soundless flare—
Before I could even react her tongue was buried in the back of my throat.
The world went narrow and bright and stupid.
A sharp knock detonated the moment.
“Five minutes,” Althaea’s voice sliced through the door, brisk and unimpressed. “If you drown, do it quietly.”
Cassie’s groan was nearly a prayer. “She’s everywhere.”
I let the water hit my face until my heart stopped trying to escape. “Who put her in charge of this again?”
A pause, then that merciless voice: “
You did, Your Majesty.
”
Cassie choked on laughter.
We rinsed in mutual defeat—half-hearted splashing, hurried motions that solved nothing. Her hand brushed mine when she reached for the soap; my magic twitched, wanting. She washed me quickly as the water cascaded off my skin, I quickly returned the favor savoring every curve of her body. The smell of citrus and marshmallow thickened until it was hard to breathe normally. The whole manor would think we were in heat again, the air already syrup-thick with citrus and sugar..
“Five minutes,” I muttered. “Dictatorship disguised as etiquette.”
Cassie’s grin found me through the fog. “You love it.”
Maybe I did. Maybe I just loved her exasperated and half-dressed, the both of us pretending we weren’t about to be late again.
We toweled off fast—hair dripping, nerves frayed. I caught myself counting beats on the edge of the sink until Cassie’s hand covered mine.
Breathe,
she reminded.
Trying,
I sent back.
Underwear, bras, blazers, skirts: armor of ordinary students. The fabric still held heat where her fingers had brushed. My last button refused cooperation; she fastened it for me, thumb grazing the hollow of my throat.
For one suspended heartbeat, everything was still. Then she stepped back, grin feral and fond all at once.
“Let’s go before she kicks the door in,” she said.
“Tempting her would be a crime,” I answered, gathering my bag.
Cassie winked. “We’re habitual offenders.”
And just like that, we were back to chaos—two nearly-functional duchesses, five minutes late, pretending to be normal again.
The dining hall had surrendered its soul to paperwork.
Once a place of glittering chandeliers and silver service, it now resembled a war room disguised as brunch. Charts, petitions, and ward maps sprawled across the long oak table; teacups balanced precariously beside sealed envelopes.
Roran and Kael were already there, heads bent over the latest roster. Both looked irritatingly alert for people who’d probably been up half the night. Kael’s hair was braided tight, uniform crisp; Roran’s expression hovered between a smirk and a sigh that said,
this is my life now.
Cassie and I slid in at the far end, still slightly damp from the shower.
She looked infuriatingly composed.
I looked like I’d wrestled the water heater and lost.
The air itself betrayed us—the lingering scent of citrus and marshmallow spun warm as sugar and smoke. Every Fae nose in the room twitched. Even a human could catch it—the sweet burn of my marshmallow mixing with her citrus-vanilla, threaded through with that earthy ambrosia that only meant one thing:
us.
Kael’s mouth twitched. Roran coughed into his fist. Even Althaea’s braid seemed to tighten with restraint.
“Not a word,” I warned, dropping into my seat.
“Didn’t say one,” Roran murmured. “Didn’t need to.”
Althaea stood at the head of the table like a general with a to-do list.
“Updates from Moonwell: the sanctum secured, temple staff relieved of duty pending investigation. Courier s from Starlight Vale await your signature, Your Grace.”
Cassie stole a roll, split it neatly, and handed me half. “Translation: paperwork and politics before breakfast.”
I took a bite and groaned. “Who in all nine hells put me in charge of things?”
Every voice in the room, perfectly synchronized: “Your mother.”
My sigh was dramatic enough to register as seismic activity. “Can’t I just be the figurehead and let you three geniuses run the duchy?”
Althaea didn’t even blink. “No.”
I pouted, aiming for tragic monarch. “Fine. Cassie and I will make the hard decisions, but we won’t like it.”
Cassie leaned her chin on her hand, eyes bright with mischief. “We’ll suffer gracefully, though. That’s leadership.”
Kael’s lips twitched again. “You’ve learned delegation faster than most nobles.”
Roran nodded solemnly. “Nice to see someone can control them.”
“Enjoying yourselves?” I asked, one brow up.
“Immensely,” Roran said, still scanning the roster.
Cassie’s foot brushed mine under the table, subtle as static.
We smell like trouble,
she sent through the bond, her mental voice all honey and heat.
We are trouble,
I answered, pretending to study a petition.
She grinned around a sip of tea. The scent spiked again; Althaea’s jaw tightened, but her tone didn’t waver.
“New petitions concern border security and merchant licensing. Also—” her gaze flicked between us “—personal discipline.”
Cassie arched a brow. “Ours?”
“Yours,” Althaea said sweetly.
Roran chuckled. Kael murmured, “I’ll add it to the roster.”
The bond hummed with Cassie’s amusement, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. My sleeve seam became a safe stim—thumb rolling the edge again and again until my pulse leveled.
“Right,” I said, feigning royal composure. “Border security, merchant licensing, and pretending we don’t make the entire estate smell like a confectionery inferno. Let’s begin.”
The laughter thinned as the last scroll was rolled away, leaving only the scrape of porcelain and the quiet hum of the estate wards outside the window.
Sunlight had begun to bleed through the glass—too bright, too gold for how early it still felt. My brain was already trying to catalogue the day: classes, meetings, cover stories, public smiles, fake normalcy.
And we didn’t even have a security team.
I tapped my sleeve seam twice, then a third time for symmetry. “Okay,” I said. “We have a problem.”
Roran looked up from the roster. “Just one?”
“Two, technically,” Cassie said, stealing my last bite of roll. “No guards, no breakfast.”
“Priorities,” I muttered, watching her lick a crumb off her thumb. My brain stuttered. Focus, Mira. “We don’t have enough people to keep the estate protected
and
handle escort duty for school.”
Althaea folded her arms. “The temporary watch can hold until evening, but not longer. Moonwell’s sending two veteran warders to help coordinate, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow.”
“So basically,” Cassie said, “we’re walking into Ravenrest with a security team of one.”
She nodded toward Kael, who didn’t even flinch.
“Technically two,” Kael said dryly. “If you count my shadow.”
Roran leaned back, chair creaking. “I can double the watch rotation, but that leaves the manor half-covered.”
“Then don’t.” I straightened, feeling the decision form before the logic did. “You stay here.”
Roran’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’ll recruit and vet new guards. Get a permanent staff together by the end of the week. Kael can cover escort duty for now.”
He frowned. “Your Grace, you’ll be traveling without a full team—”
“Kael can escort us anywhere,” I interrupted. “You can’t follow us into bathrooms and locker rooms.”
The table went silent for half a heartbeat before Cassie burst out laughing.
Roran mock-saluted, eyes bright with mischief. “Fair point, Your Majesty. Didn’t want that job anyway.”
Kael’s expression didn’t move. “Lucky me.”
Cassie elbowed her playfully. “I hope they pay you extra for trauma exposure.”
“They don’t,” Althaea said, completely unamused. “It’s called duty.”
Roran set down his teacup with a click. “I’ll start reviewing applicants from the Vale garrisons. I’ll need your approval for hiring authority.”
“Granted,” I said automatically, though the word tasted too official for my tongue. “Vet them hard. No one with Shroud ties, no one with divided loyalties. I want people who’d guard this place because they believe in it—not just the pay.”
Roran nodded once, all soldier again. “Understood.”
The levity drained from the air, leaving only the faint thrum of wards beyond the windows. The estate itself seemed to listen, holding its breath. I could feel it through the soles of my shoes—the hum beneath the floorboards, faintly alive, as if the house approved of taking itself seriously for once.
Cassie brushed her thumb across my knuckles under the table, grounding.
You’re doing the ruler thing again,
she sent through the ring, quiet pride in the link.
Hate it,
I sent back.
Also kind of good at it.
Infuriatingly so,
she teased.
I inhaled through my nose. Toasted marshmallow and citrus still lingered on the air—familiar, warm, human in a room full of Fae restraint. “All right,” I said, voice steadier. “By the end of this week, we’ll have a full security staff. Starveil, Moonwell, and the Vale all coordinated.”
Roran gave a small nod. “Understood, Your Grace. I’ll make it happen.”
Kael rose, efficient as clockwork. “Then we’d better leave soon if you’re to make the first bell at Ravenrest.”
Cassie groaned. “You mean we actually have to go to class after all this?”
“Afraid so,” Althaea said. “Even duchesses have attendance requirements.”
I gathered my satchel, trying not to think about how heavy everything suddenly felt—duties, titles, expectations. My fingers found the worn edge of my bracelet, rolling it once.
“Fine,” I said, forcing a grin. “Let’s go pretend to be normal teenagers who definitely don’t have assassination s waiting for them at lunch.”
Cassie’s laugh sparked through the bond. “And maybe we’ll survive first period.”
“Optimist,” I said.
Althaea held the door. “Five minutes to departure.”
“Dictatorship disguised as etiquette,” I muttered again.
“Still love it,” Cassie whispered as we passed her.
We almost made it out the door.
Almost.
The echo of bootsteps on marble should’ve been my victory song, but instead it heralded doom in heels.
The seneschal appeared from the corridor like divine retribution in a pressed waistcoat, clipboard already raised like a weapon. Her expression could’ve curdled sunlight.
“Your Graces.”
The words hit like gavel strikes. “No heads of departments appointed. No interim administrator. No one has informed your mother of the assassination attempt.
Chaos.
”
She said it like it was my legal title.
Cassie stifled a laugh behind her hand. I pinched the bridge of my nose until my vision flashed stars.
“Don’t forget,” the seneschal added crisply, “you also have your Solar session after school. The palace expects attendance this time.”
“Of course they do,” I muttered. “Between tours, assassins, and now calculus, when exactly am I supposed to hire anyone?”
Cassie, unhelpful as ever, said, “Lunch period?”
Roran’s voice came dry as parchment. “Paperwork never sleeps.”
Kael, perfectly stoic beside him, murmured, “Unfortunately.”
Althaea—gods bless her efficiency and curse it at the same time—crossed her arms. “Delegation, Your Majesty. Try it sometime.”
I glared. “Fine. I’ll delegate everything to
you.
”
She didn’t even blink. “You already do.”
Cassie choked on laughter; Roran looked away, shoulders shaking.
“Truth,” I admitted, rubbing my temples. “Then I’ll delegate Roran
more
paperwork.”
Kael’s quiet snort was pure betrayal.
“Noted,” Roran said dryly. “I’ll have the forms drawn up so you can delegate signing them too.”
I groaned loud enough to make the nearest chandelier reconsider existing. “This is cruel and unusual governance.”
The seneschal wasn’t moved by theatrics. “Head chef, steward, archivist, groundskeeper, scribe, treasurer, and advisor positions remain vacant, Your Grace. The duchy cannot function on charm and improvised firepower alone.”
Cassie leaned close, whispering against my ear,
You could set her clipboard on fire.
Tempting,
I sent back.
But she’d probably file a form for that too.
Her citrus scent brushed my nose, grounding me and distracting me in the same breath. My fingers found the edge of my sleeve—one, two, three—while my brain tried to prioritize the avalanche of responsibility she’d just dumped on me.
“Fine,” I said finally, exhaling hard. “I’ll look over the list again for head chef on the way to school, and I’ll conduct phone interviews over lunch.”
Cassie blinked. “You’re going to interview people
during
lunch?”
“Yes,” I said, with the conviction of someone lying to themselves. “One position a day until every department head is hired. Then they can hire their own staff. Problem solved.”
Roran’s mouth curved in mild disbelief. “That’s… ambitious.”
“Desperate,” Kael corrected softly.
“Effective,” Althaea amended. “If you actually do it.”
Cassie arched a brow. “She will. She’s stubborn when she’s cornered.”
“Stubborn,” I repeated, slinging my satchel over my shoulder. “That’s the royal word for panic, isn’t it?”
The seneschal cleared her throat pointedly. “Your carriage leaves in three minutes, Your Graces. Do try not to be late to your other full-time occupation as—what is it called—students.”
Cassie’s grin was pure mischief. “We’ll do our best.”
As we finally passed her, I muttered under my breath, “Next time she starts listing vacancies, I’m hiring her as Duchess of Guilt.”
Cassie’s laughter slid through the bond, bright and fond.
At least she’s thorough.
So is execution,
I sent back.
And it sounds just as fun.
Behind us, Roran and Kael exchanged matching, long-suffering looks—the kind that said
this is what we’ve chosen to protect.
And honestly? I couldn’t even blame them.
The marble steps outside Starveil still held the night’s chill; it soaked straight through my shoes and into my bones. The courtyard was all motion—guards shifting formation, engines humming awake, wards flaring and dimming in the half-light. An envoy of black SUVs waited at the gate like obedient beasts, their glossy skins reflecting a hundred small versions of me.
The air between Cassie and me still crackled.
Three days without touching her properly, and the bond had decided to hum like static in my blood.
She caught my eye as Kael ran through departure orders, that slow smirk curling like smoke.
Three days without you,
she sent through the ring.
Cruel and unusual punishment.
You’re making it worse,
I thought back, pulse spiking.
That’s the point,
she replied, and her scent sharpened—lemon bright, sugar beneath, dangerous in the way only she could make citrus smell.
Mine responded automatically, marshmallow-warmth sweetening in the air. The crossfire hit the guards like friendly fire.
Kael cleared her throat loudly. “Saints preserve us.”
Roran muttered, “They won’t. Not from this.”
Althaea didn’t even glance up from her checklist. “Focus, please. This is departure, not feral season.”
Cassie leaned toward her, utterly unrepentant. “Define season.”
Althaea’s braid twitched; she refused the bait. “You’re due at Ravenrest in twenty minutes. Mira, human form. Now, please.”
I groaned, already tugging at the sleeve seam of my uniform—three taps, grounding. The shift wasn’t dramatic, just…
wrong.
Magic peeled away in thin ribbons of light, dragging warmth with it. My eyes dimmed from starlit brown to human green; my hair dulled from firelit gold to ginger-amber; my ears lost their edges. The glamour never hurt—but the
absence
did. Like losing a frequency I could normally hear.
Everything went quieter. Colors flattened. The world smelled like less.
“I hate this part,” I muttered.
Cassie brushed my wrist. “You still look like you.”
“I look like a caffeine-deprived scholarship student.”
“Exactly,” she said, grinning. “Perfect disguise.”
Althaea finished her list, voice crisp. “Day itinerary sent to your devices. Communication links synced. Glamour wards established for the rest of us. Kael will accompany you through the school day; Roran remains here to recruit the estate guard. I’ll to Starlight Vale.”
Roran gave a small bow, already half-thinking logistics. “I’ll have candidate files waiting by dusk.”
Kael moved into her usual perimeter slot, calm as iron. “Ready when you are.”
Cassie adjusted her blazer like it was armor, the sunlight catching in her hair. “First day of senior year,” she said. “Ready to pretend we’re normal?”
“I
am
normal,” I said automatically. “You’re the distraction.”
“That’s mutual,” she said, smirking.
We stepped toward the Veil gate together. Light folded around us—thin gold threads pulling taut, then snapping silent. The smell of magic turned to ozone and then to car exhaust.
A blink later, we were standing in the Ravenrest driveway, sunlight pale and ordinary. The air was thinner here, muted; my ears popped like they missed the song of wards.
The SUVs idled in perfect formation, heat mirages trembling above their roofs. Kael’s hand rested near her concealed weapon; Cassie tucked herself close to my side like habit.
A driver held open the rear door. I ducked in first, the scent of leather and faint lavender filling the cabin. Cassie slid in after me, smoothing her skirt. Kael closed the door with a soft click that sounded too final.
I exhaled, ready to breathe again—then froze.
Someone else was already in the car.
Sitting there, immaculate, silent, and sharp as glass.
My mother.
High Lady Seara Firebrand.
Not a word, not a flicker of expression—just that cool, unreadable gaze that saw
everything.
Cassie’s hand found mine under the seat; the bond flared once, warning and comfort tangled together.
The engine purred to life.
I swallowed hard.
After everything we’ve survived,
I thought, staring straight ahead,
high school might actually kill us.

Chapter 71: Morning Orders