Round 1 Day 3 - Morning (1/2)

Max awoke warm, comfortable, and surprisingly well rested as the sun began to filter through the windows of the Master Suite. The bedding was plush and supportive, the pillow like a cloud, her breasts had shrunk back to a more manageable size and Matt’s arm was wrapped across them as he pressed into her from behind and his slow breaths gently tickled the back of her head. To her half-conscious mind, it was bliss. She let out a long sigh of satisfaction, and Matt pulled her closer without seeming to wake even slightly, perhaps reacting to the movement of her chest.

Her eyes snapped open. She looked down, unnecessarily, and grimaced. The punk silently mouthed a swearword, then went through a single, continuous, well-practiced movement that began with her slowly lifting Matt’s arm and ended with her dressed in last night’s clothes and creeping out of the bedroom door. Matt slept on, with his arms cradled to his chest and a small frown on his face.

Only after the suite door was safely opened and closed without any reaction did Max let herself relax again. Her shoulders sagged and she leaned heavily against the doorframe as her heart rate slowed. Another clean getaway, and she’d avoided ruining a spectacular night with a messy morning. She pushed off the wall and descended the spiral staircase, heading for her room for a shower and a change of clothes.

“What are you doing here?” the frosty voice caught her midway down the spiral, and she paused. So much for a clean getaway.

“Well I was gonna go grab a shower, but I’m guessing you’ve got other ideas,” the punk grumbled, the hoarseness of her voice catching her by surprise. She lifted her gaze to see Sarah scowling up at her from the lobby area between the bedrooms, and returned the expression before completing the spiral down to level ground.

“There’s a shower in there,” Sarah pointed out through gritted teeth, arms folded in front of her chest like armour, “I know there is. So why are you sneaking out at first light like some cheap one night stand?”

Max rolled her eyes with aggressive dismissal. “Newsflash for you, wifey: I am a cheap one night stand. Don’t act like that’s surprising.”

“But he isn’t!” she snapped back, stepping closer, volume suddenly dialled to eleven.

The door to the horror room creaked open ominously, and the tiny form of Poppy peeked through. She eyed the confrontational pair, taking in Sarah’s tense stance without reaction, looking over Max’s ruined makeup with a slight quirk of interest, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth involving herself in and slipped away to the breakfast room. Sarah took a shuddering breath in and turned back towards Max.

“You don’t get to treat him like that,” she insisted, voice thick with emotion, “You don’t get to earn fifty-five points with him in one night...” the words cracked in her throat, and she swallowed heavily before continuing, “...then pretend that it’s some dirty little secret.”

“You don’t want it to be a secret? What, you wanna fucking watch next time or something?” Max grinned nastily as Sarah grit her teeth and clenched her fists, “Whatever, pull up a cuck chair if you want. Just don’t expect me to stay in that bed any longer than I need to for swallowing a couple of loads.”

“I don’t want to watch you, I want you to treat him with some basic decency,” Sarah seethed, “He is so much better than you deserve, and-”

“You think I don’t know that?” she laughed, the sound carrying more anger than joy, “I’m doing you both a favour here by sneaking out. You don’t have to worry that I'm up there trying to steal hubby’s heart, not that I even would, and he doesn’t have to put up with me after I’m done draining his balls.”

“Do not treat my husband like he’s just a fucking cum dispenser, you...”

Sarah stepped forward again, teeth bared, eyes blazing. Max grinned back at her and threw her arms wide as she closed the distance from her side. Both of them suddenly found their progress barred by a forest of ginger locks.

“Stop it, both of you!” Grace snarled at the arguing pair, stepping between them as her living hair pushed them apart with gentle but unrelenting force, “Fighting isn’t going to help anyone.”

“She started it,” Max, theoretically the oldest Contestant, spat childishly, straining against the restraint.

“I don’t care who started it, I heard enough to know you were making it worse,” Grace rounded on her, summoning up every bit of experience from her job as a daycare assistant to scold the immature woman, “You literally slept with her husband and then started being rude to her about it, and I guarantee you Matt wouldn’t be happy to hear about that. So shut your mouth and think very carefully before you open it again.”

The punk scowled at her, but notably did it with her lips firmly sealed. Through the mass of hair, Sarah’s eyes still bored into her skull.

“I gave him permission for last night,” she muttered darkly, “I can retract that permission if I need to.”

“And you!” the redhead flipped her attention to Sarah, just as sternly, “If she wants to leave, she gets to leave, and that's that. As for last night...” she faltered for a moment, but continued with renewed force. “Don't pry, and don't judge. She needed those points to survive this thing.”

Sarah maintained her angry glare for a few moments longer, but then her confidence finally ran out and her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Is that what you’re going to do then?” she asked in a quiet mumble, “Survive?”

Grace’s hair bristled even as her cheeks went pale. She shook her head, a little too quick. “He’s not touching me.”

“Grace...” a new voice came from the side. Emma had been watching on from a distance, and was now looking at the redhead with concern.

“You can stay the hell out of this,” Sarah spat, a final afterflare of fury sparking up and then quickly fading away, “Now get out of my way. I’m going to go and see Matt.”

“Be my guest,” Max said sarcastically, stepping away from the foot of the stairs, “I’m gonna go shower, like I was trying to before you stopped me. I still need to wash the remains of your husband’s cum off my face.”

Grace braced to intercede again, but it wasn’t necessary. Sarah totally ignored Max’s parting shot as she brushed past and climbed the spiral with a determined stride, quickly leaving the drama behind. At the top of the stairs, she took a moment to centre herself before grabbing a firm hold of the handle to let herself in. The door didn’t move.

“The Master Suite is only accessible by invitation or on your date night, by the way,” said the small woman with red hair and yellow eyes, leaning casually against the wall, “Not sure if I explained that rule earlier. I could make an exception and let you in, of course, but only if I wanted to. Which I don’t, currently.”

Sarah flinched hard at the Host’s sudden appearance, then fruitlessly tried the handle again. “He needs me though,” she said urgently, shoving the immovable wood.

“Does he now?” Scarlet’s face split into a wide grin, the orange quill danced around her fingers, “You really still think so, after last night?”

She didn’t have an answer for that. Not one she was willing to voice out loud. Sarah tried the handle one more time, then screwed her eyes shut and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the unfeeling door.

---

Eleanor was still choosing her outfit when the door to the room burst open and Max strode in, disheveled and angry. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes were rimmed in black mascara smears with tracks of the same tracing down her cheeks, and her lips still stained with the traces of a purple that would stick its middle finger up and grumble at you for disturbing its hangover.

The roommates paused, staring at each other, then Eleanor hurriedly laid down the pair of black jeans she had been contemplating and stood up straight. “So... how was the date?” she asked, half sarcastic teasing and half genuine curiosity. What on earth had happened to result in Max coming back looking like that?

“Date was fine, night was fantastic, this morning sucked,” Max grunted, looking away. She fished around in her pocket, then tossed a small black tube onto the bed before stomping off towards the bathroom. “There’s your lipstick back, but don’t rush getting ready. He won’t want to see you until lunchtime.”

Eleanor’s eyes flicked between the lipstick and her roommate’s retreating back. Her mouth opened, but it wasn’t until Max had the door halfway open that she worked out what she wanted to say.

“Wait!” she yelped. Max stopped, glancing back over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow. “...any advice?” she asked, the question almost physically painful.

Max snorted, shaking her head in amusement but then looking down at the floor. “You’re gonna have to dial up the teasing if you want him to actually do anything, but you’re in for a hell of a fucking first time if you can get him to cut loose.” She laughed to herself, picturing for a moment how overwhelmed the virgin princess would be at getting the same treatment she’d had last night, but the laughter didn’t last long. She took a breath and continued more seriously. “Just don’t skip out on the normal dating shit. Hopes and dreams and hobbies, stuff like that. And apparently you’ve got to worry about impressing his wife as well as him, the nosey bitch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, but got no answer other than the slamming of the bathroom door.

The goth girl frowned, deep in thought. The confusing final piece aside, the advice had actually been kind of helpful. She now knew she had the whole morning to make arrangements, which was good. It also sounded like the date from the book might be the best option after all, as unlikely as that had seemed. Or maybe she was just looking for an excuse. She took her time dressing herself in the black jeans she had been on the verge of rejecting, a low cut top, and minimal makeup or jewellery. Pocketing the lipstick, but not applying it yet, she left the bedroom and set off for breakfast.

April was looking around in the lobby area as Eleanor stepped out. The catgirl let out a sharp trill of surprise and her tail stood on end, but then slowly lowered when she realised who it was.

“Oh, hi,” she said with a nervous smile, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Sarah this morning?”

“No?” Eleanor furrowed her brow, “If she’s not in your room then she’s probably just gone to breakfast already.”

April shook her head. “I just went and poked my head around the door, everyone else is there apart from us and Max.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” she shrugged, “Is there something you wanted her for?”

“It’s nothing, I just wanted to talk to her about...” the catgirl blushed and cut herself off, her tail thrashing anxiously, “Something that happened last night. It doesn’t matter what. But she must have sneaked out while I was still sleeping.”

“I’m sure she’ll turn up,” Eleanor shrugged again, “Are you coming?”

April nodded and smiled. Hopefully Eleanor was right, and she’d have the chance to talk to her roommate before too long. Hopefully some breakfast would help settle the butterflies that began fluttering around her stomach whenever she thought about what they’d done together, each of them pretending the other hadn’t noticed.

---

Matt awoke feeling slightly cold, his body was contorted uncomfortably, and he was still a little groggy as the sun filtered through the windows of the Master Suite. There was a divot in the bedding in front of him, the only evidence of another body having spent the night, and he lay his hand in it without really knowing why. He felt perhaps a small amount of lingering warmth, but it could easily have been his imagination.

He slowly hauled himself out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown, then glanced out into the main room of the Suite. The books were all still there, a small breakfast spread was laid out in the kitchenette, and the fireplace crackled merrily away, but there was no sign of life. Turning in the other direction, he went into the en suite bathroom next, but the only figure in there was his own reflection.

The reflection made eye contact, and Matt found himself approaching it to take a closer look. Those eyes were wild, and tired, and there was a smudge of purple around his lips. The look of a man who had gotten lucky last night. He smiled, just a little. A sharp laugh escaped, almost surprising him. Lucky. Years of flirting that he’d never expected to go anywhere, and thanks to this ridiculous competition all that pressure had been released in one hot and heavy night.

The laugh continued, a manic grin spreading over his face. He’d done it. He’d seduced someone other than his wife. Max had genuinely been interested, and not just playing with him. She had actually wanted him. He had shown her the best time he could, played the role of the person she wanted him to be almost perfectly, and then she had left. The figure in the reflection turned blurry. A tear dripped down his cheek, then splashed into the sink as he hunched forwards, gripping the sides of the bowl with white knuckles. The laughter turned into a sob.

“Matt?” asked a familiar voice.

“Sarah!” he exclaimed in joy and panic, whipping around to see her standing in the doorway, hurriedly wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his dressing gown, “I’m sorry, I...” he choked, and gave up on drying his face, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

He couldn’t read Sarah’s expression, but he could read her actions. She almost leapt forward, then wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed like she was trying to expel the guilt by force. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” she insisted into his chest. He slowly let his own arms fall around her shoulders, and rested his head on top of hers. “You did what you needed to, and that’s okay. Even if you enjoyed it. Especially if you enjoyed it. I don’t want this to be a burden for you.”

Matt let out a wet snort, and shook his head incredulously, fresh tears brimming. “I’ve got all these women forced to compete for my attention, and you’re worried about it being a burden for me?”

“I am worried about you,” she released her constrictive grip a little, leaning back and looking him in the eye, “Because I know you, Matt. Tell me you’re not panicking about hurting someone. Tell me you didn’t wake up alone and think it was because you did something wrong.”

“I...” the accusation blasted away all the pretence and knocked the breath from his chest. “I don’t deserve you,” he gasped out, then pressed a firm, wet kiss to her forehead.

“I know,” she mumbled back, burying her face in his chest once more, “But I’m trying to be better.”

Matt blinked, processing the response, realising that Sarah had somehow taken the exact opposite of his intended meaning. Before he could correct her though, a flash of red leather caught the corner of his eye.

“What are you doing here?” he growled as Scarlet sauntered into the bathroom.

“Charming,” the Host rolled her yellow eyes and folded her arms, “You’re welcome, by the way, for me letting your wife into the Suite while you were too busy having an emotional breakdown in the bathroom mirror. Again.”

“Again?” Sarah lifted her head and looked at Matt with renewed concern. He gave her a weak half-smile before turning his attention back to Scarlet.

“You didn’t have to follow her in,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, shoulders sagging, “Look, if it was up to me I’d have just let the scene play out, but you’ve got a wedding to prepare for, and you need to get up to date on your reading before we leave at lunchtime.”

“Lunchtime?” he frowned, picturing how much of the book there had been left when he’d put it down the previous day, “I know I read fast, but I don’t know if I can manage that.”

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to try, and I’ll see what I can do to bend the narrative to give you enough time,” Scarlet shrugged, “You’re canonically caught up by the time you get there and I don’t want you falling into a plot hole before we’re even halfway through the first week.”

“...what?” Matt asked, his head starting to throb uncomfortably. Scarlet ignored him, and began pacing back and forth across the tiles with an agitated posture.

“I didn’t want to have to bend stuff this early, but our timestream has been slipping and we’ve ended up days behind where we were meant to be by this point. I thought we had one more morning at least but... nevermind.” She stopped pacing and pointed at Matt with her quill for emphasis instead. “Just read. I’ll make sure you finish on time.”

“Okay, sure,” he cautiously agreed, hoping that doing so would start to relieve the sudden headache, “What about Sarah?”

Sarah flinched as she was thrust back into focus, “...what about me?”

“You need to get caught up too,” the Host pointed the feather at her, “On the basics, at least.” She reached inside her leather jacket and pulled out a pair of pamphlets that definitely didn’t fit within the space they had come from. “The Character List should get you caught up on most of the important stuff. It’s got some pretty major spoilers in there, but you’ll come across worse at the wedding, and unlike our Audience you won’t have the option to skip past it to avoid them.”

“Thanks,” Sarah said cautiously, taking the offered documents as if they were loaded weapons, “Why the second copy?”

“For Poppy. I’d appreciate it if you could pass it on to her.”

Sarah hesitated. She did need to have a conversation with Poppy anyway, especially after her failed attempt yesterday, but that didn’t mean she wanted to. She looked up at Matt for guidance.

“Go on,” he said softly, then kissed her forehead, “I’ll be fine.”

She frowned, but nodded. Behind her, Scarlet beamed.

“Fantastic. Off you go then.”

The Host made an insistent gesture towards the door, and Sarah reluctantly moved away from Matt, glancing back at him the whole time she was leaving. He just smiled at her gently, and waited until she was out of sight to let it slip and tiredly dry his face with the sleeves of his dressing gown. Scarlet’s smile also vanished at the same time, and she turned back to face him.

“Now, Matty: I’ve put a second bookmark in your copy of The HH. Whatever you do, don’t read past that point,” she fixed him with a serious expression, “Do not fuck around with me on that. Brain, ears, mop, all that nonsense. Don’t embarrass me in front of Arabella by forcing me to deliver a braindead vegetable to the bachelor party.”

“Got it,” he agreed with a shaky sigh, “I guess I’ll grab some breakfast and get reading then.”

“Don’t act like it’s a punishment, there’s some juicy stuff coming up,” Scarlet gave him a grin and a nudge with her elbow, then turned and sauntered away, “I’ll check in with you again when you’re done.”

Matt nodded slowly, and followed her through the door. When he stepped across the threshold, he found he was alone in the Master Suite once again.

---

Sarah came into the breakfast room late, technically after the deadline if Scarlet had been being picky about it, and grabbed herself an apple from the fruit bowl. At the table Eleanor was fidgeting with her cutlery and avoiding eye contact, Chrissy was staring dead-eyed into her juice and looked like she’d gone through the spin cycle on a washing machine overnight, Max scowled while Grace watched her carefully, and April watched Sarah - occasionally opening her mouth as if she wanted to call out and then changing her mind with a blush.

Sarah stayed standing though, and took up a position behind Emma and Poppy’s backs while she munched on the fruit. She wasn’t that hungry, and didn’t want to put the conversation off any longer than she had to. She didn’t even finish the apple before she set it down and approached the tiny woman.

“Can we talk?” she asked, meeker than she’d intended.

Emma paused with a spoonful of yoghurt halfway to her mouth. Poppy’s eyes, wide and curious, swivelled to face Sarah.

“Yes,” she said, then cast doubt on her technically truthful answer by going silent and still.

Emma lowered the spoon back into her bowl. “What’s this about?”

“Wedding stuff, it doesn’t involve you,” Sarah said to her stiffly, then looked back at Poppy, “Can we go somewhere else to talk about it?”

Poppy looked to her girlfriend. “What do you think?”

“You don’t need her permission,” Sarah snapped before Emma could respond.

“I know,” Poppy nodded, “I want her opinion though.”

The tall blonde shrugged awkwardly under the scrutiny of the two women. “I don’t see why not,” she said slowly, “Go if you want to, Pops. You can trust Sarah. She’s a good person.”

The compliment caught Sarah completely off guard, and she gave Emma a suspicious look in return, but Emma just quietly went back to her breakfast. Poppy took the opportunity to hop up off her seat and wander away, Sarah lagging several seconds behind before she left the buffet as well. She nearly tripped over the tiny woman when she stepped through the door to find her patiently waiting on the other side.

“What did you want to talk about for the wedding?” she asked, either not noticing or not caring about the stumble.

Sarah took a moment to catch her balance again, then rummaged around at her backside (Poppy cocked her head in interest) and pulled out one of the pamphlets. “Here,” she said, thrusting it forward and downward, “It’s a summary of the people on this other version of the Hotel we’re going to. Scarlet asked us to read it this morning.”

Poppy blinked, then reached up to take it and clutch it to her chest. “Okay. Was that all?”

“I guess...” she glanced at the door, making sure it was closed, “I also wanted to ask you about Emma.”

The only reply was a blank stare. Poppy looked up at her, still cradling the pamphlet, and passively waited for something that required any input. Competing instincts warred inside Sarah, but in the end her social decorum lost.

“Why are you even in a relationship with her?” she blurted out, “Can’t you see she doesn’t actually care about you?”

A small frown formed on Poppy’s small face, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “She cares about me a lot, actually. More than I do, I think.”

“But she didn’t even want to admit you were her girlfriend,” Sarah pointed out.

“I know,” Poppy’s frown deepened, “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care though.”

“But-” Sarah started, but didn’t get any further before being interrupted.

“She looks after me. She makes sure I’m eating and drinking properly. She helped me set up my business. She sometimes makes me cum so hard I pass out. She keeps the flat clean. She does the shopping. She cuddles with me on the sofa while I watch shows she isn’t really interested in.”

Sarah opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again as her brain caught up to her ears. One of those examples seemed a bit out of place, but Poppy continued without seeming to notice.

“Em shows that she cares in lots of ways,” she insisted, “She’s very nice to me. It’s not her fault she’s not brave enough to do it in public.”

“...and you’re okay with that?” Sarah asked, deciding not to mention the odd example, and doing her very best not to imagine it.

Poppy took a breath in to refill her lungs after the monologue, then made a strangled noise that seemed to catch her by surprise as her throat refused to let the next word out. She blinked, and looked down, and then when she eventually answered it was in a much quieter voice.

“No, it’s not okay,” she said weakly, “But if Emma can love me anyway, despite everything that’s wrong with me, then how could I not love her back?”

“That... makes a lot of sense,” Sarah said, her own throat closing up for entirely different reasons.

“I think it does,” Poppy lifted her head again, this time wearing a small smile, “I should go and read this before I forget.”

Without waiting for a reply, the tiny photographer turned about on the spot and scurried away in the direction of the common room.

“Poor girl,” Sarah murmured under her breath once Poppy was gone, though she wasn’t entirely certain who she was referring to.

---

It was incredibly difficult for Matt to put the book down once he reached the marker Scarlet had left. The pages had seemed to fly by this morning and it was very tempting to keep the momentum going for the last few chapters between there and the back cover, but there was enough going on in his brain already without risking whatever melty fate might await it if he didn’t heed her warnings. He closed it, put it to one side, then took a deep breath and let his head fall back to rest against the back of the sofa.

“All caught up then?” came the voice he had been half expecting, “What did you think?”

“It wasn’t what I was expecting,” he told Scarlet, still looking up at the unfeasibly tall bookcases that lined the room, “In retrospect the clues were there, but it still took me by surprise more than once when things started to get revealed.”

“Arabella does incredible foreshadowing, doesn’t she?” there was a dull thump as the Host bounced onto the cushion beside him, “Any questions? Comments?”

“A few,” Matt turned his head, then nearly jumped off the seat as he found himself nearly nose to nose with Scarlet's grinning face. He managed to only flinch back a little though, and took a moment to calm himself before bringing up the topic that was at the forefront of his mind. “About the Consort position...”

Scarlet let out a short laugh, then rolled away to lounge at the opposite arm of the sofa, kicking her feet up to rest on his lap and giving him a bemused smile. “Everything that happened in those chapters, and that’s what you’re curious about first? Alright then. Shoot.”

“Is that rule in place for this season?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she replied enigmatically, giving nothing away.

“Could it be for Sarah?” he asked, more insistently.

“Oh, Matty,” Scarlet shook her head in exaggerated disappointment, “Matty, Matty, Matty.” She pulled her feet off his lap and then surged forward to kneel instead, bringing her face right up to his once more. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you and Sarah are even half as closely bound as those two are.” She gestured to the book.

“I...” Matt started, meeting her challenge for half a second before his gaze flinched away, “I love her.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Scarlet pointed out, sitting back on her heels, “So let me make it plain for you: you and Sarah do not meet the criteria. She doesn’t get an easy way out of the competition, fate isn’t intertwining the two of you, and there’s no guarantee you can even fix your relationship. Sarah is not your soulmate, though you might discover your soulmate before the end of this season.”

“She’s not...” his gaze snapped back up, “Who?”

“Spoilers,” the Host tutted, “And I only said you might. Even I don’t actually know at this point. Now was there anything else you were wondering about?”

“Um... right,” Matt blinked, his eyes slightly stinging, then cleared his throat, “A lot, actually, but there was an AMA that I sent in a question for, and I...” he winced as his head started to throb uncomfortably, “I can’t remember exactly when I sent it?”

“Right. That.” Scarlet scowled, then poked him sharply in the forehead. “You're on shaky enough ground as it is, and you go and ask a question about how to look outside the story? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was curious,” he muttered, batting her hand away and rubbing at the spot she'd jabbed. It hurt a little, but not as much as the ache behind it. “I wasn't even sure if I wanted the answer, I just wanted to see if they'd take it seriously.” He sat up straight and looked at her with an inquisitive expression. “I kind of wanted to see if you'd take it seriously too.”

The Host was taken aback, recoiling with a confused expression, then her eyes widened in realisation. “Alright, stop that line of thought right there if you know what’s good for you.”

“I got a non-answer really, only the vaguest bit of guidance, but that means they accepted the premise itself, doesn't it?” he continued, ignoring the instruction as a pressure throbbed behind his eyes, “This show, these seasons, these stories... there’s something outside them, isn’t there?”

“Matt, I’m being serious here. Stop trying to figure this out.” Scarlet climbed to her feet, her mouth pressed into a thin, stern line.

“Then there’s your bookmark. I read right up to the morning of the bachelor party, when they’re expecting us to arrive, and there’s still more story to go,” he made eye contact even though his vision was swimming, and didn’t seem to notice the trickle of blood that crept out of one nostril, “What’s after the bookmark, Scarlet?”

“Matthew Hawkins!”

The lights in the room seemed to dim even as the fireplace suddenly surged with heat, but Scarlet’s glare blazed hotter. The whimsical ginger woman took on an outsized presence, her five-foot frame somehow filling the space, the echo of her declaration still thrumming with power as it bounced off the bookshelves. The coal-black pupils of her burning eyes were a deep abyss, vast and ancient.

“Do not meddle with knowledge you are not meant to have!” she ordered in a booming voice, swiping the quill sideways to underline the command. She held the position for a moment, arm outstretched to the side, then relaxed. The glow in her eyes faded, the fireplace calmed, the lights came back up. She continued more calmly. “Waking up alone and then finding out your wife is not your soulmate is not a reason to commit suicide by brain haemorrhage. Don’t end your story prematurely.”

“I wasn’t...” Matt winced and coughed. He found himself pressed firmly into the back of the sofa as though he’d been physically repelled by the presence of the small woman, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a bloody streak across the skin. “I wasn’t trying to do that. I was just... curious.”

“And that curiosity will serve you well,” the Host gave him a warning stare, “Just not about this. Not yet.”

“Right,” he said stiffly, “Sorry.”

“So you should be,” she nodded, but smirked, “It’s my ass on the line if I’m suddenly left trying to run a season without a master. Now forget about the book for a bit, get yourself cleaned up and dressed. We leave for the party in half an hour, from the throne room.”

“Okay, I can do that,” he readily agreed, grateful for the more familiar challenge of preparing for a social event. Half an hour should be enough time if he started straight away, and the pressure in his head was starting to recede already.

Scarlet sighed in relief and made for the main door, while Matt staggered to his feet and wobbled his way towards the shower. The Host paused with her hand on the doorhandle, and looked back over her shoulder. She watched as his stride evened out with every subsequent step, his spine straightening, his shoulders lifting. He was quick to adapt, she had to grant him that. Hopefully he would be able to adapt to all the advice he was soon going to have already been given.

A trickle of blood ran from her nose as she contemplated the confusing timeline, but after a sharp sneeze it burned away in a puff of smoke. She shook her head and opened the door, stepping directly from the Master Suite to the shop. Her postmaster should never have delivered that AMA question to Arabella in the first place, and she’d need to find out why exactly it had been allowed to slip through.