Page 8 of Search for the Lost

“He started it.” Leo looked as though he’d sucked on a sour grape.

Minkis only hissed in reply.

Aspin shook his head. “Elly’s right. Let’s get going.” With no further ado, and without waiting for the rest of them to follow, he stepped through the portal.

Leo sighed and went through after him.

With the absolute conviction that things were probably going to get a lot worse before they got better, Crispin followed his lover and his brother.

As Crispin entered the Hall of Mirrors, his stomach lurched. The room was too perfect—sparkling clean and all straight lines and glossy reflective surfaces. It almost hurt, how in-place everything was.

When he’d come to work before, its organized splendor had always put him in a good mood as he headed to his desk to get his assignment for the day—or to sometimes receive one from the Oracle itself. (Themselves? Squirrels!)

Now he just wanted to get out of here.

At least out in the hallway there were some scuffs on the walls and a few cracked floor tiles. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wishing the disorganized rush of thoughts away. Leo, how do you live like this?

Leo seemed to be in no better shape. He held his chin high, but his hands were shaking. When he saw Crispin looking at them, he shoved them into the pockets of his crisp white pants.

Cypher Appledrop, Crispin’s own personal assistant and a handsome faun to boot, clomped into the Hall. A bright smile split his face, his little tail wagging behind him. “Ah, Director Moss’caladin, I’m so glad you are here. I have a scroll-full of matters needing your attention.”

Leopold offered what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile, but ended up looking a little manic. “Crispy, please.”

Crispin groaned.

Cypher cocked his head sideways. “Pardon me?”

“We don’t need to be formal. You can call me Crisp⁠—”

“Crispin will be just fine.” Crispin stepped in front of Leo. “He meant Crispin, not Crispy.”

Cypher blinked rapidly, looking from one of them to the other and back. “I didn’t realize you were bringing… him in today.” Did the faun sound jealous? “And hello, Ambassador Minkis.” Cypher essayed a formal bow.

Minkis chittered his appreciation from Crispin’s shoulder.

Crispin frowned. The squirrel was getting more respect than he was. Some of the staff still privately (and sometimes not so privately) objected to their boss dating a “recovered asset.” Including at least three of the curators. And apparently his own assistant too.

“Crispin asked me to come in to, ah, help with the reporting backlog.” Under Bidulla Krönk, his former ogre boss, reports had stacked up in boxes in one of the staff bathrooms, and no one knew what secrets (and general administrivia) might lie in wait there. It was grossly irresponsible of her, but new Crispin found it far less concerning than it had been to him the day before.

“Oh.” The confusion on the young assistant’s face was adorable. “I didn’t know the Prince of Chaos was good with… organization?”

He had Crispin there. His brain wasn’t working in nearly as organized a fashion as he would have liked. Still, the slur against Leo hurt. What had he ever done to earn such scorn⁠—

Pinch.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Cypher’s voice had the tone of someone concerned about an elder auntie who should probably no longer be living alone.

“No,” he lied. “Just had an itch.”

Leo cleared his voice. “Please don’t call my partner the Prince of Chaos.” He paused, reflecting. “King of Chaos would be way better.”

“Um… sure.” Cypher turned to Aspin. “And who is this other unexpected visitor?”

Leo gestured. “This is Crispin’s brother, Aspin.”

The faun frowned. “Don’t you mean your brother?”

“Of course.” Leo nodded vigorously. “That’s what I said. I’m sure of it. I am, after all, very orderly.”