Chapter 6 - Dawn Over the Vosa Docks
The siege lasted through the night. Outside, the sound of small-arms fire echoed across the harbor walls as the Vosa loyalists clashed with the Drazza enforcers in the rain-slicked courtyards. But inside the fortified core of the mansion, the heavy steel shutters held firm.
By dawn, the gunfire had dwindled to sporadic pops, and then stopped entirely. The red-tinted light of early morning broke through the gray mist over the water, illuminating the quiet harbor where three Vosa gunboats now blocked the channel, their deck guns trained on the Drazza warehouses across the bay.
In the east kitchen, the smell of strong black coffee and fresh bread finally overpowered the lingering scent of bleach and rain.
Saurin sat at the small wooden table in the corner—the one reserved for the staff—holding a cracked ceramic mug between his hands. Across from him sat Vesna, her sleeves rolled up, her face clean of soot and sweat. At their feet, Vuk was stretched out soundly, snoring softly for the first time in two years.
Casian walked into the kitchen, placing a thin manila folder on the table.
"Don Albin and Zora boarded a freight steamer for the southern provinces an hour ago," the major domo reported, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Their assets have been frozen, and the port council has officially recognized the Vosa line as sole operators of the eastern channel. The wedding gifts have been returned to sender."
Saurin didn't look at the folder. He looked across the table at Vesna.
"The clinic in the north," Saurin said quietly, his voice carrying an unusual warmth. "How much is still left on the balance for the boy's surgery?"
Vesna paused, her mug halfway to her lips. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "How did you—?"
"Casian is thorough. He reads everyone's file, even the ones he pretends to ignore," Saurin said, leaning back in his wooden chair. "The account has been paid in full. The doctors are flying the boy down to the private clinic by the harbor this afternoon."
Vesna’s breath caught in her throat. For a long, fragile moment, the fierce, defensive armor she had worn across three countries simply melted away, and two bright tears spilled over her lashes, tracking clean paths down her cheeks. She didn't try to hide them.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling for the first time.
"Don't thank me yet," Saurin said, reaching across the scarred wooden table to wrap his large, warm hand over her small, ink-stained fingers. "I still need a maid who can handle the silver. And more importantly... I need someone who knows how to handle the dog."
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Vesna looked down at her hand in his, then over at Vuk, who gave a contented thump of his tail against the stone floor. A genuine, radiant smile—the first true smile Saurin had ever seen on her face—broke through like the morning sun burning off the harbor fog.
"I suppose," Vesna said softly, squeezing his hand back, "I can drop a few more spoons for you."
