The Zethussalns’ estate on Arkania was as cold as its masters—both in architecture and temperament. Ashlin never quite cared for the sterile grandeur of Arkanian nobility, but he endured it for Azel’s sake. The moment he stepped into the great hall, its vaulted ceiling and crystalline fixtures casting a silver glow, he was met with the piercing gaze of Azel’s father, Erasmis.
Ashlin, ever the picture of refined grace, inclined his head slightly, his long white Echani hair pulled back in a neat tail. “Ah, mother, father,” he greeted smoothly, savoring the way Erasmis’s eye twitched at the audacity.
“Do not call me that, Echani,” the elder Arkanian sneered, his voice crisp like breaking ice. “I have not acknowledged such an arrangement.”
Aurora, far more reserved but no less cold, sighed delicately. “Ashlin. What exactly brings you here? Azel hasn’t—”
“—done anything scandalous? No, no, mother. Nothing quite so dramatic, I assure you.” Ashlin smiled disarmingly. “Rather, I am here on a matter of finance. You see, since you were ever so kind as to sever Azel from her family accounts, I have taken the liberty of ensuring she does not accidentally bankrupt us.”
Erasmis’s gaze sharpened. “Explain.”
“Oh, delighted to,” Ashlin said, stepping forward and clasping his hands behind his back. “I may have, let’s say, ‘creatively accessed’ your banking systems to oversee her expenditures. Naturally, I would never withdraw a single credit from your precious vaults.” He flashed a knowing grin. “That would be criminal.”
“You sliced into my accounts?” Erasmis’s voice rose. “You—”
“Tut, tut,” Ashlin chided. “Monetary concerns aside, I merely wished to ensure Azel doesn’t, shall we say, indulge too recklessly. You raised her to be formidable, father, but finance was never her strongest blade. I consider it my duty, as her devoted husband, to protect her—including from herself.”
“Husband,” Erasmis scoffed, arms folding. “You assume much, Echani. She should have married one of her own.”
Ashlin let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head. “Oh, believe me, no Arkanian could handle her fire.”
Aurora sighed again. “What exactly has she done to make you so concerned?”
Ashlin hesitated for the briefest moment, then smiled. “Oh, you know, the usual—occasional reckless spending, mild brushes with the Dark Side, daring skirmishes that nearly cost her her life—”
“WHAT?!” Erasmis’s booming voice echoed through the hall. “Dark Side?!”
Ashlin tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Did I not mention that before? Well, she nearly did, but I, being the ever-dutiful husband, kept her from taking that rather unfortunate plunge. Can’t have my wife becoming a Sith now, can we? Bad for the family reputation.”
Aurora looked pale, but composed. “She never told us.”
“Because she didn’t want you to worry,” Ashlin said, his voice taking on a rare gentleness. “You may find me insufferable, father, but understand this—I love Azel. I protect her, in ways you cannot. So, yes, I sliced into your accounts, but only to ensure she is safe, comfortable, and not wandering too close to darkness.”
Erasmis’s eyes burned with reluctant acknowledgment, but he would never admit defeat. “You still overstep.”
Ashlin smirked. “Would you prefer I let her run amok with a crimson lightsaber?”
Silence. Finally, Aurora spoke. “What exactly do you intend to do?”
Ashlin clasped his hands behind his back. “Continue keeping her safe, naturally. And, if necessary, slice into your accounts again.”
Erasmis’s scowl deepened, but Ashlin only bowed slightly, ever the noble rogue. “Pleasure as always, father. Do send my regards to the bank.”