Xander regretted entering the dining room as soon as he’d exited the dumbwaiter. It stunk exactly like he imagined Dante’s seventh circle of hell would, all boiling blood and brimstone. He remembered a fiery accident he’d been called to once; one never forgot the smell of burning flesh. Xander steeled his resolve, much like he had that day, and forced himself to enter the dining room.

“My God,” was all he could manage to say as he stared at the scene before him.

There was – meat, meat everywhere in the dining room. Six… monsters? Humans? Could they still be called that? sat at a table, connected to one another with sinewy strands of flesh. They hummed and groaned, the sound of smacking lips echoing through the dining room as they feasted upon a mummy’s remains. 

A dog barked; Xander thought he had imagined the noise until one of those wretched fish-dogs, ruby red instead of the usual slate blue, lunged at him. He managed to raise his sword and block the beast’s bite at the last second, but the impact caused him to stagger backward, his shoulders hitting the wall and knocking the breath from his lungs. The fish-dog sprung at him again, its jaws snapping around the blade of his sword. Blood poured from its mouth; but this was no deterrent to the monster. 

I can’t die here, he thought. Millie’s soft, ever concerned face flashed before him. He could picture her, teary-eyed and bloodied, reaching for his corpse. If he died here, she would certainly come looking for him, and for her to witness such horrors – if she even made it that far – he couldn’t bear it. 

Xander pushed the blade further against the creature’s gaping maw, severing tendons, screaming with effort. His good leg managed to kick one of the beast’s legs out from under it. It fell, howling in pain, and Xander stabbed the horrid animal through the chin, up through its skull. His arm spasmed with the effort. “Go to hell!” he screamed, yanking his blade from the beast’s head. 

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here, now. Xander sheathed his sword and used his cane to stand, leaning against it in desperate search of relief for his bad hip. There – beyond the “party,” an elevator. Could it lead him to further horrors? Possibly. But nearly anything was better than staring at the scene before him.

He made it to the elevator and ascended. The Hightown air, though heavy with smog, felt so much more clean already. He gasped in desperate lungfuls, trying to avoid hyperventilating and making himself sicker.

Xander passed through a lounge and into a small vanity room, where one of the Countess’ mirrors awaited him. He stumbled to the mirror. His stomach churned violently – how long he’d be able to keep it at bay, he wasn’t sure. The squelching of flesh, the stench of gore and sulfur, the jerky writhing of those… things… 

He fell through the mirror, just barely managing to catch himself instead of landing face first in the dirt. He had jammed his wrists, though, and they shrieked in pain as he managed to stand and limp forward.

His ribs stung. An earlier scuffle with a constable had left his bones bruised, no doubt. In the moment before, he’d thought of Millie, too. Of how devastated she’d be if he didn’t return to her. Of how she’d fight Grezzo tooth and nail to try and find him. Of how he’d spend the rest of eternity begging for her forgiveness.

Millie was at the forefront of his mind now, as well. Xander smiled deliriously as he remembered the softness of her skin and the gentle scent of her perfume. The thought of her was the only thing keeping his body moving; he’d long since run out of physical energy. Millie, Millie, my dear little mouse... I’m coming home. 

At last, he made it to the mirror for the Emerald Eye. When he stepped through and nearly fell down the ladder, Millie was already waiting for him.

Xander could no longer stand. He collapsed before her, hugging her legs, burying his face in her soft stomach and sobbing like a child. Millie gasped, a soft, surprised oh! before she began to stroke his hair, coo gently. “Oh, Xander. It’s alright. I’m here. Here – let me hold you.” She pried him away for a moment so she could kneel and embrace him comfortably. 

Xander hid his face in her neck as he wailed. Millie held him tight, her body the one thing keeping him upright. His suitcase and cane sword had fallen by the wayside as soon as he saw her; his last bit of strength had been sapped. How Millie always managed to have enough strength for the both of them, he would never know.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered.

“No. Not now.”

“Okay.” Millie squeezed him tighter; he was grateful she wasn’t the type to prod. “It’s alright now. You’re safe, Xander. Shhh.” 

And he was. He never felt safer than when he was with Millie. Maybe she wasn’t physically strong, but her emotional fortitude and unconditional love was his bulwark, a willow tree shielding him from rain. He could spend all his days beneath her shade.

Millie pulled away so she could look him in the eye, caress his stubbled face. Even though his cheeks were peppered in prickly stubble, even though he certainly smelled of gunpowder and guts, she didn’t hesitate to touch him. Her stormy green eyes held no judgment, just love, and her touch was so tender his heart broke. How could he ever stand to be apart from her?

“Marry me,” he blurted.

Millie’s lips parted, then shut, and she smiled bashfully, as if she still didn’t quite believe he could love her. Oh, humble little mouse!  “What’s gotten into you?” she whispered, that smile still on her lips. “You must’ve been really scared by something.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grasping her small, soft hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’ll find you a ring somewhere. We’ll leave here together when this is said and done. I’ll make you the happiest woman there ever was, I promise, if only you’ll make me the happiest man.” 

Now his dear little mouse was tearful, but her tears were beautiful and earnest, like diamonds glittering on her lashes. “Oh, Xander… are you s–” she stopped herself, shook her head, then grinned at him. “Of course. Of course I’ll marry you.” Millie kissed him, sweet as ever, and Xander sank into her arms once more.

“Long day?” Millie asked as she took Xander’s coat.

“You have no idea,” he said, shaking out his auburn locks.

“Why don’t you come sit down for a bit?” Millie led her husband to the couch, where he flopped down. She sat beside him and took a moment to admire him. Despite the heavy bags under his eyes, he was still the most beautiful man alive.

He was still wearing his leather gloves. She gently lifted his hands, then removed his gloves and admired his bare fingers, strong wrist, calloused palms. Millie’s heart fluttered. These hands worked so hard for her – shouldn’t they feel loved?

Gingerly, she lifted his right hand to her lips and kissed each fingertip, then kissed his palm, before flipping his hand over and kissing his knuckles. Xander hummed appreciatively, his eyes lidded as he watched her. She did the same for his left hand. Millie pressed the top of his hand to her cheek.

His thumb brushed her lip, and Millie kissed it again. And again… Xander ran his thumb along her lower lip, pulling it down slightly. He slipped his hand from her grasp so he could thumb open her mouth and slide it onto her tongue.

It was second nature for Millie to suck on his fingers. Xander’s thumb played with her tongue, and her mind felt blank, like she was floating on her back in the ocean. Her little hands closed around his wrist.

“Good girl,” Xander purred. “I love you so much, little mouse…” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead as she mindlessly sucked on his thumb. “You always make me feel so loved.”

Her heart soared. Yes! Exactly! She kissed his knuckles, putting his hands together so she could kiss across all eight easily. “I love you, too. Master… Daddy…” Each name fell off her tongue like dewdrop from a leaf, easy, as if she was made just to say them. “Xander.” Her chest ached with adoration. If only he could reach inside her ribs, feel how her heart beat for him and him alone! She could imagine his fingers stroking the pounding muscle just as softly as they lay on her tongue.

Alexander, Duke of the Vale, stared after the enchanted carriage as it took the old man back to the city of Gloomwood. His lion esque tail swished in the snow irritably. He’d been leading such a… well, peaceful wasn’t the right word for his existence, but he had been left alone, and that had been enough. He flexed his claws and snorted. He had to attend to the girl.

What an odd creature she was. Offering to stay in place of her father, an old man who had already lived his life – she must have loved him very much. Xander snorted. Love. For him, no such thing existed.

He thought of the enchantress then, who he’d scorned all those years ago. She’d come to the castle as an elderly beggar on a night much like the last, asking for shelter, offering a rose for his troubles. He hadn’t seen through her guise. Xander thought the old woman ugly and poor, so he refused. The beggar transformed into a beautiful witch, and foolishly, Xander tried to apologize. For his indiscretion, the enchantress had changed him. Cursed him. The magical rose sat in the western wing of his castle, petals falling every now and then – the enchantress told him that when the last petal fell, if he could not love and be loved, he would remain a monster forever.

I’ve just repeated the past, haven’t I? Xander cursed himself then, kicking at the snow with a cloven hoof. Idiot! He turned to look up at his once beautiful castle. Pain twisted his heart. It was foolish to think the girl could love him now. But perhaps he could at least show her a Duke’s grace.

He returned to the holding cell, where the girl was staring impassively at a wall. “Millie? Is that your name?”

She glanced at him, her eyes puffy and red. “...Yes?”

“Come with me. I’ll show you your room.”

Millie tilted her head. “I thought…?”

After years of isolation, Xander had become a rather prickly fellow. “What? Would you rather stay here?” he snapped. He winced internally at his own sharp tone. “I… Come, now.”

Millie stood and dusted off her skirt, then wordlessly followed him.

He picked up her lantern and led her from the dingy cellar dungeon. 

—

The monster introduced himself as the Duke of the Vale, Alexander. He hardly looked at Millie as he walked her to what would be her new room. “Since you have to stay here,” he said flatly, “you may go where you wish. Except for the west wing. Do not set foot there.”

Since you have to stay here? Millie grumbled to herself. Only because you’re a jerk and keeping me here! Still, she thought being outwardly polite was her best chance at surviving – and possibly escaping. “I understand." Though she now wondered what was in the west wing that he wanted to hide… Did he string up people and eat them there? Perform demonic rituals? She shook her head to banish the thoughts. Stop that! Just because he’s a monster… Well… Hmm… Millie! Stop thinking such awful things!

She wondered how he came to be such a wretched creature. Part of her wanted to ask, but thought better of it – at least, for now. Maybe if she built some rapport with him? Now you’re being ridiculous. Stay out of his way if you want to live. 

The Duke – she figured she should get used to referring to him by his human title and name – opened a door for her, revealing a dusty bedroom. Except for being uninhabited for some time, the room was just fine. The bed had maroon sheets, and the curtains, pulled tightly over the windows, were the same color, though they had a cream white lace trim.

Millie kicked off her boots and examined the edges of her wool skirt. It was dirty and wet with snow.  “You should be able to find some more clothes to wear in these bedrooms,” the Duke said. "I'll have my servants find other clothes as well."

Because that’s just what I need – dusty, moth-eaten clothes! But the note about his servants was interesting… Though her nose twitched in annoyance, she forced her most polite tone. “Thanks.”

The devil-creature lingered in the doorway, watching her as she sat on the bed. “Dinner will be served soon.”

“I’m not hungry.” 

“You will eat with me.”

Millie couldn’t bear another moment being cordial to the monster.  “I said I’m not hungry!” 

The Duke’s nostrils flared. “Then starve until you come out!” He slammed the door shut.'

Millie finally let herself fall into sobs, becoming a heap of wet clothes and tears on the floor. 

—

Days passed, and Millie didn’t leave her room. Luckily, there was a bathroom with a working faucet so she could at least drink water. But her stomach had started to growl constantly, and she knew she had to eat something. 

As the days had gone by, she’d heard odd whispers and more monstrous footsteps in the hall. Did the Duke really have living servants? Were ghosts real and haunting the castle? After all she’d seen, she didn’t doubt it. 

She awoke one morning to a knock at her door, and the sound of the someone walking away. That’s odd. Millie climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door, opening it carefully, seeing the Duke descending the stairs at the end of the hall. On the floor was a plate with a pastry, a glass of juice, and a note.

Millie took everything back into her room and set the food on the nightstand. She unfolded the note. In the beast’s best handwriting, it said, “I AM SORRY.”

The young woman raised the pastry to her nose and sniffed. Just cherry, as far as she could tell – no strange scents that might suggest poisoning. As if I’d know what poison smells like, she thought with a rueful chuckle. She took a bite, savoring the taste. Her stomach growled in appreciation.

With the Duke in a seemingly good mood, she dressed in some (surprisingly, not-moth ridden) clothes she found and decided to explore a bit of the castle. He had told her she could go wherever she wanted, right? 

Millie found an old study, filled with maps and multiple globes. What one person needed with several globes, she had no idea, but they were quite pretty. She tried to find all the faraway places she'd read about on them, and wondered if the Duke himself was well-read. He must be, right?

Some of the maps he possessed were older than her father. When she first heard the story, the women back in Gloomwood had said the curse befell the castle ten years prior; Millie had been ten years old then. How old was this Duke, exactly? Ugh, another grumpy old man for me to deal with!

"See!" a new male voice shouted. "I told you there was a pretty lass here!"

Must be some of the servants, Millie thought, her back turned to the open door. I should introduce myself. She turned around, only to find — two monsters looking at her? One was like a humanoid crow, with sunken eyes, protruding bones, and blackened feathers. The other looked somewhat similar to the Duke; he was tall, broad, and looked like a goat, with a massive set of curved horns. Millie was utterly dumbstruck for a brief moment as she sized up the beasts. After she came to her senses, she screamed, backing up into the wall. How could she get out of here?!

"He didn't warn her," the crowman said flatly.

"Would she have believed 'im?" the tall goat-like creature replied. "Sorry, lass. Didn't realize the dear Duke hadn't thought to mention us. That's Oliver; I'm Edward. At your service."

Millie shook her head. "I'm insane. I'm crazy. This is not happening. This —" She grabbed two fistfuls of her own hair, wrapped the locks over her eyes, and wailed. "Of course! Of course!" She sank to the floor and leaned against the wall. "I've gone insane! I hate this stupid castle! I hate it, hate it, hate it!"

The clomp-clomp-clomp of Edward's hooves drew near. The goatman stood five feet from her. He awkwardly reached out as if to help her up, but then stopped and retracted his massive hand. "I wish it weren't so," he murmured in a strangely comforting voice. "Unfortunately, the old wench cursed us, too."

"My head hurts," Millie mumbled.

"Aye, I imagine it does. Let's get you back to your room."

"No, no, no," the crowman, Oliver, said. "She hasn't eaten since she's been here. Her head hurts because she's starving! Off to the kitchen with you!"

Edward gently took Millie's arm and hoisted her up. Seeing little other choice, she allowed herself to be taken out of the room.

As the bizarre trio made their way downstairs, with Millie leaning on Oliver's shoulder, a bizarre quadrupedal animal approached. It was blue, and it had the general shape of a dog, but with red fins and a maw of shark teeth. "Good heavens! Was it you making all that ruckus, little lady?"

"Croup," Edward said, pointing at the bizarre dog. "He's about as pleasant as having croup, too."

"Ah, and speaking of health, here comes Thatherson." Oliver nodded to a bat-like creature who had poked his head out of a far door. "He's the castle doctor. If you ever feel ill, please let him know."

"Okay…" So Millie would be looked after by goats, dogs, crows, and bats. A veritable zoo this place was!

Thatherson tiptoed down the hall. "A party, I see," he noted in a pleasant voice.

"We're taking Millie to the kitchen since the Duke seems keen on starving her to death," Oliver explained as the party (as Thatherson had so eloquently put it) made their way to the kitchen. He shooed Millie into a wooden chair, and as if the scene could not be more ridiculous, began to cook while the others looked for ingredients.

"He did leave me a note and a pastry this morning."

The beastmen's heads all whipped around at once. "He did?!" Edward nearly shouted.

"What did it say? What did it say?" Croup barked, jumping from foot to foot.

"Um…" Millie stared at her hands. "It just said 'I'm sorry.'"

The men glanced at one another, then murmured approval. "Well, it's a start."

"A start? For what?"

"Well, for your life in the castle, of course!" Thatherson interjected, clasping his massive, clawed hands together.

Millie forced a smile. Though she was still weary and miserable, these beastmen being so normal made her feel a bit better. They reminded her of her dear father.

Papa… Millie's smiled faded. Oh, her poor Papa! How was he faring, all alone out there? Was he going to come look for her? Maybe he was gathering supplies, and he'd come back and save her. Why hadn't he come back yet? Millie shoved the thoughts away, but tears had already begun to form. She sniffled rather pitifully, and Thatherson handed her a clean tea towel.

"It'll be alright. The Duke's not so bad," the bat said in a gentle voice. "Once you get to know him…"

"I don't want to know him."

"Oh, miss, please give him a chance. He's… lonely. And I think you'd find his company enjoyable."

Maybe he shouldn't kidnap people and lock them in his house! Millie bit her tongue. These men had been nothing but kind to her; they didn't deserve her venom. As if the mention of his name summoned him, the Duke entered the kitchen. "What's going on in here?" he asked, though his tone held no malice, just curiosity.

"I'm making lunch for Millie," said Oliver.

"Ah, excellent. I was beginning to get hungry myself. Millie, come with me. If you gentlemen would bring out lunch to the dining room, you may join us when it's finished."

Millie sat rooted in her chair. "I…"

Croup nudged her legs with his snout, and reluctantly, she stood. The Duke offered his arm when she came within reach. Ugh. Is he serious? she thought bitterly. Still, she reminded herself that being affable was her ticket to staying alive. She placed her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her to the dining room.

"You should be kinder to her, Your Grace," Oliver had said politely as he cut onions for the roast the night before. "She is in a difficult situation, after all." His sunken eyes caught Xander's, and he had added, "This may be your last chance."

My last chance, Xander now thought as he led Millie to the dining room, her delicate little hand curled over his bicep. The enchanted rose tucked away in the west wing was close to sealing his fate: two petals remained.

He pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down. The young lady's eyes darted around the room. Xander realized that perhaps he should have taken down the large number of taxidermy animal heads from the wall. But his family had all been hunters; the trophies were their pride and joy.

"So," he began, trying to remember how to speak to a normal person, "where are you from?"

"Gloomwood," Millie replied, folding her hands in her lap. "Lived there all my life."

"Family?"

"Just me and Papa." Millie's nose twitched. Her gaze had caught on a window, light peaking in between the deep green velvet curtain panels. For a moment, Xander's heart ached for her. Maybe he would show her one of the balconies? But then, she might get it in her head to escape. No, better to keep her inside.

"Are you… engaged? Married?" She was a pretty young lady, so surely she had a spouse. Right?

Millie's eyes narrowed at him. "Why?"

"I'm curious about you."

"Hmmph." She glanced away from him, back to the window. "No. To both."

"Why not?"

Millie sighed heavily, clearly becoming agitated with his pestering. "Just… haven't found the person," she said after a moment.

The two sat in awkward silence. Xander cleared his throat. "Did you… go outside your room much today?"

The young lady sighed again, but she turned to him, and in her most polite (but still rather annoyed) voice, replied, "Yes. I saw one room, a study, with a bunch of maps and globes." She paused. "I was wondering if they were all yours."

"A mix of mine, my father's, and my grandfather's. We've never been good at throwing things away."

A tiny, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Millie's lips in spite of herself. "Me neither. Papa is always telling me I have too much stuff. Too many books, especially, but I just can't get rid of them."

"Oh? You read?" Xander tilted his head, seeing an in to Millie's world. "I have a large library. I'd be glad to show you it after lunch."

Her prior cold attitude melted away. "A library! And a big one!" Her excitement was palpable: her eyes immediately lit up at the idea of being surrounded by thousands of books. "How many? All genres, or just a few? Are they all antiques or do you have newer editions, too? I'm—" She abruptly stiffened. Millie's cheeks flushed in clear embarrassment, and she stared down at her hands. "Oh, I'm sorry — I didn't mean to shout, I just —"

For the first time since they had met, Xander saw the Millie hiding beneath her poorly-built walls: passionate, intelligent, and kind. The light that glittered in her eyes just now… "Please, don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Your… My… Um… what do I call you? My Lord?"

Millie watched as Delia lit the cigarette she'd placed between her lips. Delia looked like a perfect marble statue in the bright moonlight. Her jet-black hair, shiny like an onyx, illuminated her battered-but-still-beautiful face. She'd changed out of her performance dress, into her mother's old outfit, and it hugged her muscular body so tightly. How would it feel to be held so close to Delia?

Millie's hand scooted closer to Delia's on the guardrail. She thought of her friend, standing on the Moth and Flame's stage, ringed in light, glowing like an angel, with the voice of one to boot. Her friend… oh, how she wantd so much more. But how could she tell her?

Their pinkies touched, and Delia glanced at her, but didn't move her hand away. "What's up?" she asked, smoke cascading around her face. "You've got a funny look on your face."

Millie blinked, her face uncomfortably warm. "Um…"

"C'mon, spit it out." Delia leaned closer, the embers of her cigarette a sparkle in her eyes. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"It's…" Shit. Millie shook her head, as if it would help clear her mind. Instead, she felt more muddled. "It's nothing. You've got too much on your plate right now."

Delia's eyes remained fixed on her, and Millie felt her resolve withering. "I just… I was thinking to when I saw you perform, and how pretty you looked. And how when I got here and saw you all beat up in that bed, I was so worried I'd never get to hear you sing again." Millie stared straight ahead. Her throat felt tight, and her ribs ached from the hammering of her foolish little heart.

"Millie…" Delia turned to her, stepping closer, and Millie suddenly felt unbearably dizzy. "Do you have something you want to tell me?"

I love you, Millie thought, her ears ringing. But she couldn't speak.

"Well, I've got something I want to tell you," Delia said.

She'd never realized just how quick Delia was. In one graceful movement, she swept Millie up into her arms and — kissed her.

All the world went quiet. Millie's fingers curled around Delia's suspenders, as if to keep her standing. Delia's kiss was so gentle, and her arms so strong… is this what heaven was like, complete with her very own angel? Millie pressed herself against Delia's sturdy body, and fully surrendered herself to love.

"Don't go running off on me again, okay?" Millie managed to murmur when they broke the kiss for air. "I… I don't know if I could live without you, Del."

"I'll be careful."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Millie stole one more kiss, tugging on Delia's suspenders so she leaned down once more. "I love you, Del."

Xander is still sleeping when Millie comes back to bed. He rolls over with a soft groan, the fine baby hairs on the nape of his neck exposed. They're strawberry blonde and impossibly fine, utterly precious. Millie crawls into bed behind him and kisses them, as gently as she can, so as not to wake him.

It's no use — he's such a light sleeper — but he chuckles quietly when he realizes what Millie's doing. "Mornin'," he mumbles, turning his head slightly.

"Good morning." Millie kisses across his shoulders, running her fingers over his bicep then down over his forearm. "Stay still. I'm busy."

"Doin' what?"

"Loving on you." She wraps her arms around him and lays back down. "I'm gonna be the big spoon for a bit, okay?"

"Mmm, alright."

Millie peppers kisses on his upper back and neck. "I love you," she whispers, squeezing him a little tighter.

"I love you too, sweet mousey."

Her heart melts. Sweet mousey, she thinks, savoring the sound of his voice. It's lower, with a thicker accent, when he's sleepy. Millie rests her cheek on his shoulder and breathes in deep. There's a faint touch of cologne still on his skin: black cardamom, cedarwood, and vanilla, he'd said. The mix of it with his natural scent and the lingering cigar smoke caught in his auburn hair is heaven. Home.

His once-sinewy body is a bit squishier now. Millie's insisted on fattening him up after the starvation in the city. Poor thing — you could see his ribs. Instinctively, her fingers curl over his ribs, and she's relieved to find a layer of fat covering them. He relaxes fully into her touch, already back asleep.

It had been a week since Dr. Alexander Thane had arrived in Gloomwood, and he was no closer to treating the plague than he was when he first arrived.

He stood on a street corner, puzzling over the map in his hands. Some map! The cartographer should be whipped, he thought, crumpling it and stuffing it into his coat pocket. His cane, which he’d hung on his arm, nearly fell from the force. He took it and rapped it on the ground in annoyance. Well, there was a run-down church across the street; maybe the priest could help him find his way. With little else to do, Xander crossed and entered the church.

He found no priest, but instead a young lady sweeping the apse. She glanced up, looking much like a startled doe, with wide green eyes and cherubic chubby cheeks. The young lady wore a somewhat wrinkled white button-down shirt, a sage green skirt that fell below her knees, and weathered lace-up brown leather boots. A big green bow adorned her half-up bobbed brunette hair. She stared at him, then seemed to snap out of her reverie. “Oh! Um, welcome, mister.” She set her broom against a brick wall that had clearly seen better days. “Can I help you?”

“Just needed to sit for a bit, little lady,” he said, his cane hardly clicking on the rot-eaten wood floor. “I seem to have turned myself around.”

She gestured to a pew at the front of the sanctuary, and Xander sat down, his bad hip groaning with the effort. He’d be paying dearly for traipsing about the city tomorrow. How unfortunate that his current job amounted to a lot of traipsing about. “What’s your name?” he asked, leaning forward slightly to stretch his hips, putting his upper body weight on his cane. 

“Millicent Halloran, but you can just call me Millie,” she replied, sitting stiffly beside him, her hands folded politely in her lap. This close, Xander could see dirt caked into the fabric of her skirt. She must have noticed him examining her clothes, because she tucked more of her skirt under her legs. “I’m sorry, I’ve been cleaning all day and haven’t had a chance to wash up.”

“It’s just a sign of hard work, isn’t it?” He gave her a smile, and she smiled, albeit awkwardly, back. “I’m Doctor Alexander Thane.”

“Oh! My friend Grezzo said there was a doctor coming to help.” Millie nodded, more to herself than to him, it seemed. “You said you got turned around?”

“Yes, quite. I have several appointments today, and no idea where they are. Would you be able to help me? If you’re not busy, of course.”

She smiled, a small, bashful smile. “Um. I think I’m done for the day.” Millie paused, a sad, distant look overtaking her soft features. “The priest died awhile ago, so there’s no one to check my work.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you a religious man, Doctor?”

He shrugged. “I was raised Catholic, but I can’t remember the last time I went to Mass. My poor mother prays for my soul every day…” Xander sighed, thinking of his mother, kneeling and hunched over her rosary. It was near noon - maybe she was doing her lunchtime prayers now? Was she praying for him at this moment? “Are you religious, Miss Millie?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced sideways at him; Xander noticed her eyes flicker to his, then just above his, as she spoke. False eye contact, he noted; her fidgety hands and tapping foot told him what else he needed to know. “I hope… I hope I can be again. After all this.”

“Me too.”

—

After a long day of seeing patients, Xander took Millie to a nearby pub for dinner.

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?” he asked, hoping his tone implied a wish to know her better, rather than creepiness. Millie was clearly an adult; he was trying to find a polite way to ask her why an adult was still living at an orphanage.

“Twenty-five,” she replied. She glanced at him, then past him, and then back at his face. Her eye contact around him had improved since he’d had her working with him over the past few days. He smiled, feeling a deep surge of pride. 

“I’m twenty-nine,” Xander offered in reply. “May I ask… did you have plans to move from the orphanage? And the plague nixed them?”

Millie’s face fell, and Xander winced. He’d hurt her feelings. “Um…” she poked at the pile of mysterious meat on her plate. The waiter had brought their meals without taking their orders – how rude! – but then again, he’d never even brought menus. “Not really,” she finally said. “I grew up there, and Mother Royse and the other nuns let me stay once I would have… aged out.” She added, quite hastily, “I help out. I do chores, clean the chapel. And I tended to Father Harold before he died. It’s not like I was a bum. I help out, I really do.” 

Xander’s nose twitched at the notion he’d implied she was a deadbeat; then, he noticed the pinkening of her cheeks, and realized she’d felt embarrassed by her continued living at the orphanage. “I apologize,” he said. “I was just curious, since I moved away from home fairly early.”

“It’s okay. I, um – it’s just… hard to talk about.” She shrugged. “The orphanage is all I’ve ever known. Father Harold and the nuns raised me.” Millie met his gaze and managed to hold it for a few moments longer than usual. “They’re basically my only family. The ones who are left, anyway…”

“No siblings?”

“No. Father Harold told me my parents came to Gloomwood as merchants right before I was born, and then died shortly after. I was an only child. And then, in the orphanage, I was the youngest, so I never really grew up around other kids.” Xander’s heart panged. How lonely an existence! Jonathan, his elder brother, could be a pain in the neck, but Xander couldn’t imagine life without him or their younger siblings. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Doctor Thane, please don’t pity me. I’ve never been good with people, so I would’ve been this way even if there had been kids my age around.” Millie gave him a gentle, easy smile, and once again looked directly at him for a moment. She was the one suffering, yet she made an effort to ensure his comfort?

“I see,” he said, mirroring her smile. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, with Xander staring at his food, before Millie spoke. “You should try the jellied crocodreel,” Millie said, pointing to the lump of meat on Xander’s plate.

“Crocodreel,” he repeated, trying not to allow disdain to bleed into his words. He knew what a crocodile was. He knew what an eel was. But… a combination of the creatures? What the hell was this city? “And it’s… jellied, you said?”

Millie nodded; she’d happily stuffed a portion of her own pile of mystery meat into her mouth. “Try it!”

Xander couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less. But because the girl insisting on him giving it a shot was his current medical assistant and pleasant company, and she’d bared part of her clearly painful history for him, he decided to humor her. It tasted like… meat. Nondescript meat. It could have been worse.

Millie beamed at him from across the table. Xander couldn’t help but smile back.

—

Doctor Thane had begun to teach Millie how to take vital signs so she could assist better in his work. He showed her how to work what he called a sphygmomanometer, which Millie wrote down the name of, so she could practice pronouncing it. He taught her how to count a pulse, and allowed her to borrow his watch so she could do so during examinations. He gave her her very own journal and pen, with heavy, fancy paper, so she could make notes as he assessed patients. He even showed her his prized jar of leeches, which, according to him, every self-respecting doctor should have on hand. 

Most excitingly, he allowed her to borrow his copy of a book called Gray’s Anatomy. Millie had once seen the hefty text in a book store; she’d asked the orphanage’s headmistress Mother Royse for a copy, but according to the headmistress, Millie’s birth sex precluded her from learning anything about science. The young lady had learned to sneak scientific texts into her room out of spite after that, but she never could find the first book to spark her curiosity on the matter.

Doctor Thane was explaining something about the bones and ligaments of the hand to her now, but Millie was hardly listening. She simply stared at him, awestruck by his passion and intelligence. His green eyes, always bright, seemed to burn like the sun when he spoke about medicine. She knew that this – saving lives – was what he was made for.

“So those –” Doctor Thane paused, taking Millie’s hand, “are what the extensors do.” He moved her index finger, curling it and uncurling it, demonstrating the way the extensors and tendons moved in tandem. His gloved finger glided over the top of her hand, tracing the ligaments, the deep blue veins prominently visible beneath her porcelain skin. With a sly smile, he asked, “Clear as mud?”

Millie’s face grew warm at his touch. “I… Yes, I think I understand.” She avoided looking at his all-too-handsome face. Hopefully he didn’t think her rude; eye contact was difficult. She used to be better at it, and she had started to get better with the doctor. When did it start to get hard again…? 

“It would be easier if I had a cadaver to show you.” Doctor Thane sighed, more to himself than her. “They burn the dead so quickly here – which is good for infection control, but bad for science.” He let go of her hand. “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

“I… don’t know?”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose if we ever get our hands on a cadaver, we’ll find out.”

—

It had been three weeks since Millie had begun her work as Doctor Thane’s assistant. He gave her some of his salary from the Mercantile Council – far more than she deserved – and paid for her meals after a long day of work. In their time together, she’d learned so much from and about the man she now considered a friend. Further, she’d learned more about herself, like how she, at twenty-five, could still feel a giddy schoolgirl’s crush so deeply.

Doctor Thane had taken Millie into Hightown today. She felt horribly nervous; she had only been in this part of the city once, on an errand for Grezzo. The old merchant asked her to fetch an artifact from one of the city’s lords, and she had nearly gone back to him red-faced and empty-handed on account of the fact that the lord couldn’t believe a poor girl from the edge of the Sootworks was actually Grezzo’s aide. 

Lord Jamison had snorted when he saw Millie standing next to Doctor Thane on the doorstep. From Grezzo, Millie had heard that Lord Jamison was on the Mercantile Council, and was one to consistently throw his status as nobility around to get what he wanted. To be in his presence felt utterly suffocating.

But the man was sick, and doctors swore oaths to treat everyone. Not that Doctor Thane knew of Lord Jamison’s unpleasantness. Millie tried to look at the lord with fresh eyes; maybe he was better now? Maybe Grezzo had exaggerated?

Doctor Thane had Lord Jamison sit in the drawing room. While he took a history of the patient’s illness, Doctor Thane instructed Millie, “Take his temperature and blood pressure, please.”

Millie took the doctor’s suitcase and began setting his equipment out. When she approached Lord Jamison with the thermometer, stethoscope, and sphygmomanometer, he grumbled under his breath. Doctor Thane eyed the man, but his smile remained easy-going.

“I’ll need to place this cuff on your arm,” Millie said as clinically as possible. If she remained detached and simply did her job, Lord Jamison would have little reason to berate her. Still, she felt his cold eyes on her as she went to put the cuff on him. The lord didn’t move to help her in any way. Millie sighed to herself. If someone was really sick, she didn’t mind if they didn’t, or were unable to, help her. But when someone wasn’t all that ill, and decided to actively make her work harder? 

Millie forced the cuff under his arm, since Lord Jamison clearly wasn’t willing to simply lift his arm slightly. She secured it, then began to pump up the cuff, placing the end of the stethoscope in the crook of his arm, finding the thumping of his pulse. The brachial artery was what she was listening to, Doctor Thane had taught her. Despite Lord Jamison’s glowering, Millie’s heart swelled with pride at her learning. She made a note of the man’s blood pressure in her journal. 

Once the blood pressure reading was taken, Millie went to place the thermometer in Lord Jamison’s mouth. He scowled. “I can do it myself. I’m not a child.”

“I just wanted – it needs to be placed under your tongue, sir.”

“Sir? Sir?” The lord’s voice was pure venom. “What kind of unrefined street urchin are you? You will address me as ‘my lord’ or not at all!” Doctor Thane was already crossing the room at his tirade, but before he could interrupt, Lord Jamison snatched Millie’s wrist. “Look, there’s dirt on her clothes! Don’t tell me you grabbed the first cheap, eager little fice you found on the street to help you!” 

She felt tears begin to well in her eyes, and cursed herself for being such a crybaby. You can’t let him know he’s hurt you, Millie thought, willing herself to remain calm. She could cry later, but right now, she had to remain strong. Doctor Thane had a job to do, and she couldn’t humiliate him by being a blubbering mess.

Doctor Thane paused a few feet away, staring at the man. Though the smile remained on his lips, it was now full of malice; his eyes darkened with contempt, and his grip on his cane was tight. Millie had never seen him angry – no, furious. Doctor Thane drew himself up to his full height. While letting Lord Jamison squirm under his hate-filled gazed, Doctor Thane asked coolly, “Millie, would you please pack up our things? We’re done here.”

“I am ill, doctor, and in case you forgot, you work for the Mercantile Council! You work for me!”

“Seeing as you can speak to my assistant in such an impolite, derogatory manner,” Doctor Thane said icily, “it is my clinical assessment that you are healthy enough to wait for treatment. I have other, much sicker patients to see and triage.” He clicked his cane on the ground, the metal tip ringing against the wood. “Unless you apologize to my assistant for your frankly embarrassing behavior, we will be leaving now.”

Lord Jamison’s jaw clenched. He lifted his shirt, revealing a sprawling rash on his chest. 

Doctor Thane stared impassively, his arms crossed. “Yes, and?”

Millie backed up to stand behind the doctor. She’d seen plenty of men duking it out in the street, bashing each others’ brains against cobblestone and grinning victory through bloodied, tooth-gapped mouths. What she hadn’t seen was a verbal altercation like this. Was this how all rich men fought? 

Lord Jamison stared right back, unwilling to sacrifice his ego for treatment. Doctor Thane turned to Millie. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!”

The two turned to look at Lord Jamison. He was grumbling under his breath. “Fine. I apologize.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

Doctor Thane simpered at the man. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it?” he asked in his pleasant, lilting drawl. Even his snippiest voice sounded like warm honey! “Millie, are you alright with treating Lord Jamison?”

“Yes.” Admittedly, getting close to the man again felt like an impossible task – she was certainly going to bawl over his treatment of her later – but knowing Doctor Thane had her back made her feel a bit better. 

“Excellent. We’ll need to take a sample of his lesions.” He glanced at the lord with a smug little grin. “Depending on the results, a leech treatment may be in order. Don’t you agree, Millie?”

—

“I think today was productive,” Doctor Thane said, adjusting his top hat. Snow had begun to fall as he and Millie walked home one evening, forming a thin layer on the brim of his stylish hat. Millie briefly wondered how much it had cost him – his clothes were so fancy, like he would have brushed elbows with the lords of Gloomwood had he not been an outsider. “What do you think?”

Millie tried to ignore her shivering, but her chattering teeth betrayed her. “Y-y-yes. I ag-gree.” She hugged her arms tighter to her body. She was wearing a coat, but she always ran cold. 

“Oh, poor thing. Why are you wearing such a thin coat?”

“I w-was using m-m-mine to cover up the n-nuns. Th-they were f-f-freezing, even with the f-f-f-fire.” She glanced at him. “H-how are y-you not c-c-c-cold?!”

The doctor stopped in his tracks. “Millie,” he tsked, “you can’t care for others if you aren’t caring for yourself.” He unwrapped the blue scarf from his neck and set it down over Millie’s shoulders. He wrapped it around her neck twice, making sure it was pulled over her nose and mouth, and sitting comfortably under her ears.

And thank goodness for covering her face, because Millie was certain that despite the cold, her cheeks were burning red.

“There.” He patted her shoulders and smiled. “Better.”

“What about you…?” Millie asked. Her chill-induced stutter vanished with the scarf’s warmth. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I like the cold,” he replied. “Went hunting with my father and brothers too much not to.”

“You were a hunter?”

“Oh, not like the Huntsmen you have here. It was…” The doctor paused, seemingly weighing what he wanted to say. “Well, it was more of a sport for us. But we did eat what we killed.”

“Ah.” 

The orphanage’s chapel came into view far too quickly – Millie wanted to keep walking with her face in the good doctor’s scarf for as long as she could. Oh, well, she mused. At least she’d had this opportunity with him.

Doctor Thane opened the door for her, and Millie stepped inside, turned around, and started to unravel the scarf. 

The doctor stopped her. “Keep it for now. I have another just like it back in my room.” He smiled softly. “Besides, we’ll be out walking in the cold tomorrow, right? You’ll need it to keep warm.” 

“Oh.” Millie’s face warmed. “Um, thank you, Doctor Thane. Really.” She ran her fingers over the fabric, marvelling at its softness. She’d never held such a fancy piece of clothing – the doctor not only came from money, but he had plenty of his own to spend on such nice things. His cologne filled her senses, drifting off the scarf and filling her head with daydreams. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow.”

He clasped his hands with a wide grin. “Take care, Miss Millie.”

Millie stepped inside the orphanage and watched him leave from the window. Her heartbeat finally slowed when he was out of view.

She pressed the scarf to her nose, drinking in the smell of his cologne. He’d given her the scarf so easily – her, a poor woman who made a paltry living dusting a run-down church. Maybe it was just because she had been shaking so violently, but… he cared about her. The thought made her head spin. 

I love him.

Millie felt warmth bloom in her chest at that. I love him, she thought again, and she laughed to herself, like a giddy schoolgirl realizing a crush. Doctor Thane, I love you!

She knew she was being silly, but Millie couldn’t help it. For the first time in years, she felt a true connection to someone. And at the very least, he cared about her.

Maybe, just maybe – she’d allow herself the fantasy – he loved her, too. 

—

“Ah, that’s not quite right…”

Xander frowned as he erased the lopsided circle. Normally, drawing after a long day of seeing patients was relaxing; tonight, however, Xander couldn’t seem to get his mind and hand to work in tandem. He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his auburn locks. Maybe I’m trying too hard, he mused. Thinking about it too much.

He started to sketch once more. The less he thought, the easier the movements came, and soon, a clear visage appeared under his pencil.

Millie…

He sketched in her hair, her round cheeks and soft jawline. Goodness, she was so pretty – he couldn’t help but grin as he doodled, like a schoolboy with a crush. Xander’s mind wandered. Millie had been faithfully assisting with his examinations, leading him from home to home, and overall being extremely pleasant company. 

It was also clear she had a crush on him as well, no matter how desperately she tried to hide it.

What a funny little mouse, he thought as he started another doodle. His hand moved of its own accord, and Millie once again materialized on the page. She was so easy to draw, all gentle curves and rounded features, like a porcelain doll brought to life.

As he continued sketching, he drew more of Millie, remembering every silly thing she’d done, every shy glance his way, every gaze she’d held, every kind word. He filled a spread with just her. When he stopped to admire his work, a deep, radiant warmth bloomed in his chest, like the sun shone between his ribs.

Oh…

A grin spread across his face. How’d he let himself become such a soft-hearted, lovesick fool? Not that he minded – not for Millie, anyway. 

—

Things were dire in Gloomwood.

The plague had continued to spread like wildfire; nothing Doctor Thane had done had cured a single patient. Despite remaining steadfast to his cause, Millie could see the endless suffering and lack of an answer was wearing on him. Heavy bags hung under his eyes like storm clouds, and a few strands of silvery hair had started to manifest at his temples. He hadn’t shaved in at least a few days, and while he was quite handsome that way, Millie knew he hadn’t had the energy or willpower to shave, and that broke her heart. 

He’d come to the orphanage’s door late in the night. Millie was the only one left; the sisters had all passed at once two evenings prior, and the city constables had scooped them up and burned them as soon as they heard, much to Doctor Thane’s chagrin. How the cops had managed to find out so quickly left a sour taste in Millie’s mouth. She hadn’t told anyone. In fact, she had been on the way out the door to alert Doctor Thane so he could dissect them when the constables arrived, snorting and beating their batons on the walls.

He sat in one of the beat-up upholstered chairs before the fire. The light of the flames danced along his auburn locks and cast deep shadows on his handsome face. Millie watched him from her place beside a window, admiring how beautiful he looked, even in such a haggard state.

“I’m leaving Gloomwood tonight,” he said. 

“What?” A hole opened up in her stomach. 

“I’ll be back,” Doctor Thane assured her. “I… I’m not capable of treating this plague alone. I’ve written hundreds of letters to my colleagues, and none have answered.” He glanced at the windows, and seeing the curtains were drawn tight, he relaxed some. “I have reason to think they’re not making it out of the city at all.”

“Doctor…” She paused. “I believe you. But I don’t know how you’re going to get out.” The constabulary had effectively shut the city down, imposing a strict curfew and restricting traffic into and out of Gloomwood. 

“I snuck past the coppers to get here, didn’t I?” He stood and crossed the room, stopping before Millie. Her face became hot as he took her hands and squeezed. “Don’t you worry, little mouse. I’ll sneak out and be back with help before you can blink.”

Little mouse? Millie wanted to melt into a puddle. She’d never been called such a sweet name before. She was sure the good doctor could feel the heat radiating off her face.

“Be safe,” she mumbled.

“I will. I’m more worried about you. You have enough food to hole up here for awhile, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Since she was the only one living at the orphanage, she didn’t have to worry about not having enough to eat.

“Good. Don’t leave, okay? If you can, keep the lights off, even during the day. Keep the curtains closed, and don’t answer the door if anyone comes knocking.” Though his expression was soft, his tone was deadly serious.

“I can answer if it’s you, right?” Millie wasn’t sure where this bold flash came from, but she both instantly regretted and was exhilarated by it.

“Please answer if it’s me.” He chuckled, a sly grin on his lips.

She forced a smile back at him. Though his departure was like a knife in her chest, she trusted he would come back to Gloomwood with help. Why wouldn’t he?

“I’ll miss you, Doctor.”

“Xander,” he said. “You can call me Xander.”

Oh, right. Millie had almost forgotten he had a real name, not just Doctor Thane. “I’ll miss you, Xander.”

—

“Doctor!” Millie dropped her knitting and ran across the room to hug him, then, remembering what he’d said before he left, she corrected herself. “Xander, I mean. I’m so glad to see you!” 

“Millie!” Grezzo scolded, “Get off him! The man’s had a hard day, he doesn’t need you hanging all over him like a circus monkey!” “It’s fine,” Doctor Thane – no, Xander – replied. 

Millie then remembered that hugging a man she wasn’t related to was improper, and let him go. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to be impolite, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, a true smile blossoming on his face. “I haven’t been hugged in a long time. It felt very nice.” He took Millie’s hand, raised it to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to it. “I’m happy to see you, too. My lady.” The last words he whispered into her skin; they were for her and her alone. “What are you doing here?”

Millie’s knees became mush and she had to fight to keep standing. His lady? Oh, only in her dreams! She forced herself out of her reverie to answer his question. “Remember my friend Grezzo? He invited me here, to keep safe.”

Grezzo coughed, and Millie flushed, pulling her hand back but still smiling shyly. “Oh, goodness, um, let me take your coat. Please, please. Sit down. Make yourself at home.”

When he handed her his coat, it took all of Millie’s strength not to bury her face in it. Despite his long trek through the city (and a faint fishy smell?), the scent of his cologne hung heavy on the fabric. She’d missed it so…

As Xander got settled, with Grezzo leading him to the upstairs room, Millie hung his coat and smoothed out the crinkles. If they had enough water, she’d wash his clothes, maybe encourage him to take a bath… for sure she’d cook him a nice, hot meal.

Look at you, Millie. Finally cooking for a man! She laughed to herself. She’d never once thought she’d be in love ever again, much less daydreaming of domestic bliss. Millie went to the kitchen and started to rifle through Grezzo’s cupboards. 

She’d always heard that the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Maybe if she cooked up a good enough dinner, Xander would fall hopelessly in love with her, like she was with him.

—

Xander had returned early that night, much to Grezzo’s annoyance. The doctor had planned to get to the Underport that evening, but a scuffle with a gang of batbeasts had gone awry, causing him to retreat back to the Emerald Eye. 

Millie took him upstairs to clean him up. Xander sat rather broodily in a chair, clearly licking his wounds. He perked up, however, when Millie approached with a basin of clean water and a washcloth. Or was she imagining things?

“This might sting. Sorry,” Millie said, lightly dabbing at Xander’s cheek with the wet cloth. He winced but admirably stayed as still as he could. He cast a glance at Millie, and grinned when she caught his gaze. Millie felt her face growing warm. Damn him, and his unfathomably handsome face… Looking at him had started to become difficult again. Could he see what a fool she was for him? Certainly, considering how her face always seemed to become beet red around him these days. Millie cursed herself for wearing her emotions so openly.

The doctor placed a hand over hers as she cleaned the wound again, and Millie gasped softly. She tried to pull her hand back, but Xander curled his fingers over hers. “Xander…?” 

He chuckled, his bright green eyes lidded. “You really are going to make me beg, aren’t you?” 

“Huh?” Millie blinked. His dark, hooded eyes, his low, rumbling drawl of voice… was he…? “Are you… flirting with me?”

Xander stared at her, dumbfounded, then laughed. “I have been since we first met. But thank you for finally noticing.”

“Oh.” Millie squeezed the water from the cloth and stared into the basin – anything to avoid looking at him. 

“Hey. Look here, mousey.” He reached up to caress her cheek, force her to look into those impossibly green eyes. “You don’t have to say anything, or actively reciprocate. Just know… I’m really quite fond of you.”

“I, um… I do reciprocate. A lot.” The fancy-sounding word felt heavy on her tongue. Reciprocate: to feel the same way. 

He feels the same way I do!

He smirked devilishly. “I know.”

“Then why’d you say that!”

“To get exactly that reaction. You’re predictable, little mousey.”

Millie glared at him, but his bright, relaxed smile shattered any annoyance she might have had at him. “Does this mean, um… we’re together?”

“Do you want to be?”

“More than anything,” she confessed, the words tumbling from her like an avalanche. 

“Then I’m yours, and you’re mine.” Xander stood, clasping her little hands in his large, warm ones. “You’re the one good thing left in this city, Millie. And I’ll be damned if I lose you now that I have you.”