Anniversary

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Ahsch had to pause after a moment when he returned to the Odestag suites. Things were… quiet. Which, to be fair, it was a large collection of rooms and they were somewhat soundproofed, so it was never loud. But still, even from the entrance, he usually could hear _something _with Enhanced Senses.

But there was not a whisper of sound.

Is… everything okay?

He got a confused burst from Ariin. What’s wrong?

The suites, he explained. It’s quiet here.

I… huh, I don’t think anyone is there, aside from Avery, that is. And Butler.

Ahsch paused, glancing around a corner suspiciously. When you say, ‘nobody here,’ you mean…?

Nobody in Daydreamweave, Ariin corrected. As far as I’m aware, most of the servants live there, so I don’t know why they’d be gone.

Ahsch frowned. Avery, is something going on?

There was no response. Frown deepening, Ahsch dug around in Daydreamweave, following the threads between the conjoined parts of their consciousnesses. And came up short when he realized that Avery wasn’t normally linked in.

Hand dropping to the largely ceremonial dagger that Avery had _insisted _he wore ever since he’d returned, Ahsch quietly stalked through the suites, a brief command to Mahat his only distraction before he focused on his surroundings, his familiar relaying what was going on to everyone else.

He heard a clink through his enhanced and strained ears.

Hand fastening around the hilt of his weapon, Ahsch stealthily moved towards the sound’s origin, a small side room in which he knew there was only a small table, a comfortable chair, and a lamp. Letting out a deep breath, he thrust the door open -

“Lord Ahsch, I wasn’t expecting you back… well, not tonight at least,” Butler said, his voice as monotone as ever. “Avery was convinced you’d be spending the night with Miss Naemui.”

Ahsch frowned. On second thought, Butler’s voice was not the same as usual. There was a… weight to it. A weariness. The slightest sliver of concern.

None of which the hrafthi could verify with Heart Sight, the automata being immune to many forms of magic. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Where is everyone?”

Butler was silent for a long moment. Ahsch’s heart beat a rhythm of wrongness. “Lord Avery has this day as a standing holiday for all House Odestag staff,” he eventually said. “This is the first year since that policy where we have had non-staff here with any regularity.”

Ahsch blinked, relaxing somewhat as Butler’s explanation didn’t seem to indicate danger. “Holiday?” he asked. “What for?”

Butler turned back towards the single empty cup on its lone coaster. Which one hand was resting by, a mechanical finger lightly circling the rim, occasionally pulling it off-balance for it to clink back against the porcelain.

He didn’t reply.

Ahsch frowned. “_When _did this… ‘holiday’ begin?”

“Nine years ago.”

Crossing his arms, Ahsch frowned in thought. Nine years ago… was nothing, as far as he could recall. Fifteen was Miri’s death, Avery had been ten at the time. Then it was five years later…

Ahsch felt his blood go cold. “What…” he had to swallow. “What day did… did Miri…”

Butler’s finger on the cup paused, and the automata turned to regard Ahsch emotionlessly.

It was only five seconds later that Ahsch rushed from the room, first making for Avery’s bedroom.

Empty. Blessedly, terrifyingly empty.

The training hall?

Nothing.

Think, damnit.

Office?

Avery looked up darkly with her eyes only as Ahsch rushed in. After staring at him for a long moment, she set down the…

… and returned her attention to the pot of… Ahsch sniffed the air. Citrusy. Oranges, maybe?

Orange drop tea, Mahat murmured in his mind. Ahsch swallowed, recalling months past when Kirasiel had tried to drive a wedge between him and his wife, and Avery’s response to the reminder…

He slowly approached as Avery took a neat, full sip from her cup, then poured another full one from the pot. She only barely failed to hide the flash of distaste.

“You… you hate sweet teas,” Ahsch said dumbly after a moment.

Avery glanced up at him again, then gently blew over her cup and took a smaller sip before her gaze went down and to the side, looking at…

“You were supposed to be with Naemui,” she said, her voice hollow as she regarded her cup.

“Hating sweet tea aside,” Ahsch continued, “I’d imagine you’d hate orange drop tea especially,” he said. Avery’s brief eye contact was laced with a storm of emotions. All of them negative.

He looked at her emotions. Guilt. Anger. Self-loathing. Depression. Grief. Loss.

Ahsch’s face twisted in pain as he realized what she was doing. “There’s no reason to punish yourse-”

“Leave.”

Ahsch saw her hand twitch a few inches to the side, towards…

“I’m not going to let…” he paused, frowning. Then concentrated on his Mage Sight, and set his jaw. “I imagine that it’s a lot harder to properly divert my attention when I know you can do it,” he said flatly. A flash of panic crossed Avery’s eyes, and Ahsch looked to the side again.

Nothing was there.

Ahsch frowned at Avery. “Where did… whatever it was you’re hiding from me go?”

“Ahsch,” she growled. “Get. Out.”

It was the darkening of her sclera, the lengthening of her nails, and the dangerous tone of her voice that convinced him to give up with one concession. “We’re going to talk about this tomorrow,” he said.