Christopher

Christopher
Kael

We make it all the way to the back door of this creepy shadow castle when Rhaziel materialises directly in front of me. I yelp. Not a dignified sound. A proper startled noise. I jump back so hard I step squarely on Cage’s toes.
“Sorry,” I mutter over my shoulder, wincing as he hisses quietly. Then I turn my attention back to the looming Demon King, who has appeared out of thin air like a disappointed god with opinions.
He looks down at me.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Well,” I say, instantly shifting into my most innocent tone, “Christopher and I were just about to head out and walk around the beautiful gardens you have here. You know. A little sightseeing.”
Rhaziel crosses his arms.
“No.”
I blink. “No?”
“No.”
He glances around me, scanning the hall like he expects an extra person to pop out from behind a tapestry. “And who is Christopher?”
I point my thumb over my shoulder. “Christopher,” I repeat.
He follows the gesture and lands his gaze on Cage. No. Christopher. Cage straightens instinctively under the scrutiny, spine stiff, jaw set. The eyepatch catches the light, dark leather against his skin, and for a split second, I wonder if I should have eased him into this a little more gently. Rhaziel lifts one brow.
“…Christopher,” he repeats slowly.
Cage swallows. “Yes.”
There’s a pause. Long enough to be uncomfortable. Long enough for my brain to start catastrophising. Then Rhaziel nods once.
“Hm,” he says. “It suits.”
Christopher exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a decade.
Rhaziel steps aside, opening the way toward the inner corridor rather than the exit. “You are not spying.”
“We’re not spying,” I protest. “We’re… observing from a respectful distance.”
“No.”
I sigh dramatically. “You are truly committed to ruining my hobbies.”
“You will stay,” he says calmly. “If you wish to wait, do so here.”
He turns and walks away without another word, the conversation apparently finished. I stare after him, then look at Christopher.
“Well,” I say. “That went… great.”
He huffs quietly. “You're going to get us killed.”
“Please,” I scoff. “If he wanted us dead, we'd already be a decorative stain.”
That earns me the faintest twitch of his mouth. It's progress, and I'm calling that a win.

We end up in one of the open sitting chambers instead, perched near a wide archway that looks out over the Shadow Realm’s skyline. The air is cool and steady, the kind of calm that settles into your bones whether you like it or not. Christopher stands near the edge at first, arms folded, posture rigid. I flop onto a couch and pat the cushion beside me.
“Sit down,” I tell him. “You look like you’re guarding a crime scene.”
He hesitates, then carefully lowers himself onto the opposite end of the couch. Evander joins us a few minutes later, carrying two mugs and wearing that quiet, steady expression he gets when his dragon is content but alert. His gaze flicks to Christopher immediately, then to the eyepatch. He pauses, steps closer and without saying a word, passes me a mug and gives me a firm, solid pat on the back.
“Your pa would be proud,” Evander says simply.
I nod at him.
"Mumma too."
He laughs, nods and hands Christopher a mug. “Drink. You’re still healing.”
We settle into a strange, quiet waiting after that. I keep glancing toward the path that leads down to the hill beyond the kingdom walls, wondering what Allison and Cassian are doing. Wondering if he’s telling her stories. If she’s laughing. If she’s safe in that soft, glowing way she gets when she forgets the world is cruel. I shift restlessly, and Christopher notices.
“You’re bad at waiting,” he says.
“I’m excellent at waiting,” I reply. “I just prefer not to.”
A moment passes.
“…Do you think she’s happy?” he asks, carefully, like the question might explode if handled wrong.
I don’t tease him, and I don’t deflect.
“Yeah,” I say honestly. “I do.”
He nods slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
“I want that,” he admits. “I just don’t know how to stop bracing for it to be taken away.”
I lean back, staring at the ceiling. “You just… unclench one finger at a time.”
He snorts softly. “You’re terrible at metaphors.”
“Rude,” I say. “I’m emotionally insightful.”

Time stretches, and eventually, movement catches my eye. Two figures walking back toward the kingdom, close together. Cassian’s posture relaxed. Allison’s laughter carried faintly in the air.
I sit up, Christopher does too, Evander is already at the door, and who knows where Daddy is. When they reach the door, Allison looks up and smiles, bright and unguarded, and Cassian looks like a man who has finally remembered how to relax. I grin.
“Well,” I say quietly. “Looks like she had a good date.”
Christopher watches them, expression unreadable but softer than it’s ever been.
“…Yeah,” he says. “It does.”
I clap my hands together once. “All right. Mission accomplished. Time to share the girl around, Commander.”
Cassian glances at me. “You’re an idiot.”
“Correct,” I agree cheerfully. “But I’m our idiot.”
Allison reaches us before Cassian does, her steps light, her expression still soft from whatever quiet magic the two of them carved out of the afternoon. Her gaze flicks over Evander first, then me, then settles on Christopher. Her head tilts slightly as she takes in the eyepatch, the worn leather sitting comfortably against his skin.
“That’s new,” she says gently.
Christopher’s shoulders tense out of instinct, then ease when he realises she’s smiling.
“Kael gave it to me,” he says, voice low. “It was his father’s.”
Her expression shifts immediately, warmth blooming where curiosity was. She steps closer without hesitation, close enough that he can see the sincerity in her eyes.
“It suits you, Cage” she says simply. “Really.”
Something tight flickers across his face, and for a second I think he might deflect it, brush it off the way he always does. Instead, he takes a breath.
“Actually,” he says, careful but steady, “I’d like it if you called me Christopher. From now on.”
Allison doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even question it.
“Okay, Christopher,” she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
His throat works. “It’s what my mother wanted to call me.”
She smiles, softer now, and reaches out, fingers brushing his arm in a way that feels deliberate and kind. “I think she had good taste.”
Evander nods once, approving. Cassian watches with quiet understanding. I grin, because, well, I kind of made this happen.
“Well,” I announce, clapping my hands lightly, “look at that. Character development.”
Allison snorts, and Christopher huffs out a laugh despite himself.
And for the first time since I’ve known him, he doesn’t look like he’s waiting for the ground to drop out from under his feet.