A gust of superheated air slammed into them as Dash yanked open the bay window, the inferno roaring behind them like a hungry beast. Soot-laced rain lashed their faces as they clambered onto the gabled roof, the slate tiles treacherous underfoot. The wind howled, threatening to rip Kip from Dash’s arms. Mabli scanned the precarious landscape of chimneys and statuary, her gaze snapping to Elias Vossen, who stood silhouetted against the burning mansion. He held a small, dark device in one hand, its single red button glowing malevolently. Arabella, a miserable, tear-streaked doll, dangled from his other grip. Her gown was a tattered mess, and her hair, usually a monument of coiffed arrogance, hung in limp, smoke-soaked strands. She still screamed, a raw, undignified sound that carried oddly across the wind.
“You really think you can stop me?” Elias shrieked over the gale, his voice thin with madness. “This entire wing! Gone! And your little pet with it, boy! Sign over your holdings, Dash. Now! Or everything burns!”
Dash, clutching Kip close, moved with surprising speed, shielding his brother with his own body. “You’re mad, Elias! This is a Vossen property! Our legacy!”
“Legacy?” Elias cackled, a chilling sound. “What is legacy but a story told by the victor? You think I care about these crumbling stones? Only the gold matters, nephew! The Vossen fortune is mine!” He gestured wildly with the blasting unit, almost losing his balance on the slick slate. A gargoyle, its stone face leering, watched them from the parapet.
“He’s not going to sign anything,” Mabli called out, her voice calm despite the raging inferno and the storm. She stepped forward, her boots finding purchase between the slippery tiles. “Because you’re not going to blow anything up.”
Elias snarled, his eyes darting to Mabli. “The scullery trollop! What do you know of this, you unwashed wretch? This is Vossen business!”
“It became my business the moment you tried to barbecue my brother,” Mabli shot back, her grin a flash of white in the gloom. The air crackled with the scent of burning timber and wet soot. “And frankly, your table manners are appalling.”
Arabella, who had been whimpering, suddenly stiffened. Mabli saw a flicker in her eyes – not fear, but a spark of pure, unadulterated fury. The kind of fury only a socialite told she was “unwashed” could muster. Mabli registered the shift, the tightening of Arabella’s jaw, the slight tilt of her head.
Elias, caught in his own monologue, seemed not to notice. “You think you can intimidate me? I brought down the Iron Rookery! I controlled this city! I hired her!” He pointed a damning finger at Mabli. “She was my blade! My personal assassin, before she got sentimental!”
“Oh, I assure you, ‘sentimental’ is a generous term for what I was,” Mabli retorted, taking another careful step. “More like ‘contractually obligated to not let a whiny old man destroy everything with a poorly planned explosive device’.”
Dash watched Mabli, mesmerized. Her movements were fluid, deliberate, even on the treacherous roof. He tightened his grip on Kip, ready to move, but his gaze remained fixed on her, a fierce admiration in his eyes.
“Silence!” Elias roared, twisting Arabella’s hair in his fist. “You worthless shrew! You are nothing but a spoiled child, Arabella! And you,” he sneered at Mabli, “you are a forgotten weapon!”
That struck the nerve. Arabella’s nostrils flared, her mouth curling back from her teeth. With a sudden, visceral snarl, she lunged. Not away, but *at* Elias. Her teeth, surprisingly sharp, sank deep into the back of Elias’s hand, the one holding the detonator.
Elias shrieked, a sound of pure agony and shock. He flailed, trying to shake her off. The firing cylinder, for a split-second, hung loose. A single, critical opening.
“Now!” Mabli screamed, and moved. She launched herself forward, a blur of motion across the slick tiles. Her hand shot to her apron pocket, pulling out the collapsible steel whisk. It extended with a sharp click of oiled wire.
She didn’t throw it. She *launched* it, a precise, calculated flick of her wrist. The whisk flew, a metal blur, its looped head snapping open mid-air. It whipped around Elias’s fingers, locking over the brass trigger with a crisp *clink*.
“You infernal—!” Elias yelled, his grip slipping. Mabli yanked the whisk back with all her strength. The device flew from his grasp, arcing through the smoky sky before clattering onto the tiles, harmlessly inert.
Elias, still roaring, reeled back, clutching his bleeding hand. Arabella, spitting curses, scrambled away from him, her face a mask of triumph and disgust. “Don’t you *dare* call me a spoiled child!” she hissed, rubbing her chin on her ruined sleeve. “I’m a Prynne! We bite!”
Mabli charged across the damp slate without hesitation. Elias stumbled, flailing as she closed the distance. He tried to raise his good hand, but she was too fast. With a primal yell, Mabli locked her arms around his chest, twisting her body, and with a grunt that echoed the effort, she *suplexed* him. Not onto the roof, but *through* it.
The large, ornate glass skylight of the conservatory below shattered with a magnificent crash, a shower of glittering shards raining down. Elias Vossen, still mid-gasp, plunged through the gaping hole, disappearing into the smoking interior. A moment later, a distant *splash* confirmed his landing in the decorative fountain, followed by the sound of gurgling water and a faint, choked cough.
Mabli stood panting, her shoulders heaving, the whisk still clutched in her hand. The flames still roared, but the immediate threat was gone. Kip gaped at the jagged opening in the roof, clutching Dash’s lapel. Dash set the boy down onto the dry slate ridge. He looked at Mabli, his mouth slightly parted.
“Mabli,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “That was… truly something.”
Arabella, wiping her bloody mouth with the back of her hand, looked at the smashed skylight, then at Mabli, then at Dash. Arabella appraised the wreckage, then Mabli, lifting her chin. “Well,” she declared, straightening her torn gown with what little dignity she had left. “That man always did have atrocious taste in interior decorating. And I do hope his splash ruined those ghastly porcelain cherubs.”
***
The Vossen Estate was a charred skeleton, but the main structure, miraculously, held. Days later, the smell of smoke still clung to everything. The kitchen, once a battlefield, was now a scene of quiet, methodical restoration. Mabli stood over a gleaming new stove, a prime cut of Morvan beef sizzling in a pan. The air, for once, was clean, smelling only of good food.
Dash leaned against the marble counter, watching her. Kip was upstairs, napping, exhausted from his own heroics and the subsequent flood of sweets Dash had plied him with. The silence between them was comfortable, companionable.
“You know,” Dash said, his voice soft, “my Uncle Elias… he’s currently receiving excellent medical attention. For the bite. And the… unexpected plunge. And the subsequent arrest for arson, attempted murder, and general mayhem.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “He’ll be confined to the Morvan Asylum for the Criminally Eccentric for a very long time. They specialize in ‘eccentric’ there.”
Mabli hummed, flipping the steak with a flourish. Too late, she realized she’d left it on a moment too long. A plume of acrid smoke rose, and the meat was distinctly black. She grimaced. “Blast it all. Overdone.”
Dash pushed off the counter, stopping an inch from her elbow, and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Mabli.” His voice was serious now, devoid of his usual dry wit. “You saved my life. And Kip’s. And… you saved *me*.” He looked into her eyes, a vulnerability there she’d never seen before. “I don’t want you to leave. Not as a maid, not as a bodyguard. Stay. Be… my partner. My equal. My fiancée. My wife, if you’ll have me.”
Mabli stared at him, the half-burnt steak forgotten. The proposal settled into the silence of the kitchen. Her past, the missing ledgers, the faceless syndicate—it all receded before his quiet gaze and the steady heat of his grip.
She looked down at the charred steak, then back at him. A mischievous glint entered her eyes. “You know, I burn things sometimes. Important things. Expensive things.”
Dash’s smile softened. He reached for the plate, scooping up the blackened steak. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then, to Mabli’s utter astonishment, let out a sound of genuine pleasure. “Perfect,” he declared, his voice thick with devotion. He took another bite, eyes shining. “Absolutely perfect. The char… it brings out the richness. It’s… addictive.”
Mabli watched him, a slow, sweet warmth spreading through her chest. He was utterly, irrevocably hooked. And for the first time in her life, the chaotic, dangerous, utterly ridiculous life of Mabli Cinder, she realized she was too. She picked up another, even pricier cut of beef. Perhaps she’d try to burn this one even more.