Page 82 of A Phoenix Reborn at Christmas

“I see.” His uncle rose from his seat. He took a step around the desk, walking towards Percival. “But you remember everythingbeforethis attack?”

“Yes.” Percival nodded. “But my memories from my death until a few minutes ago are still gone.”

His uncle gave a tight smile. “Well, I cannot imagine there is much useful information to be gleaned from working in a bakery.” He paused. “So you are exactly who you werebeforethis attack?”

“Yes,” Percival answered.

“Good.” Uncle Ignatius nodded. He turned to look at Cyprian, who sat on a chair facing the desk. Cyprian glowered at Percival. But that was nothing new.

After a moment, his uncle looked back at Percival. “Good. Then we can continue as things were.”

“But, Father. I?—”

His uncle held up a hand. “Silence, Cyprian. You are just upset because he is more competent than you and because”—he looked at Percival once again—“I am going to leave him in charge of Everflame Glass Factory.”

Cyprian’s face flushed red. His eyes flashed.

“Leave, Cyprian.” Uncle Ignatius returned to his desk and sat.

Shoving himself to his feet, Cyprian strode from the room.

“Percival, get changed.” Uncle Ignatius’s gaze flicked over Percival’s burned clothes. “We have much to discuss. Your absence has caused innumerable issues and complications.”

“Of course, Uncle. And I apologise once again.” Percival paused. “But I will also need to deal with Ines, a servant. She lured me into the ice sorceress’s trap. I imagine for money. Like I said, the ice sorceress is dead. But the servant needs to be swiftly dealt with.”

“I’ll have several of the factory guards sent to find her immediately. Now go get changed.” Uncle Ignatius reached into a drawer.

Percival walked to his office, an action he’d done every day for years. He stared down at the factory below. The workers filed towards the doors, finished for the day. It all felt so familiar to him.

But still, his skin itched, like something wasn’t right. Percival paused. He glanced back at his uncle’s office.

Percival had been missing. He’d been killed, almost permanently. And his uncle hadn’t even cared. He’d just cared about Percival’s role in the factory.

But what had Percival expected? A smile? A hug? A word of gratefulness that Percival was still alive? Percival almost laughed.

He entered his office and closed the door. Percival knew his uncle. He was not one to give in to weak or soft emotions. He wasn’t sentimental.

Still, Percival couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Like he didn’t want to be here.

Which was beyond ridiculous. Percival was happy here. Well, maybe not happy. But this was where he should be. This was where he belonged!

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in?” he answered.

“My lord, I have some tea for you,” a female banshee, dressed in servants’ garb, said. She carried a tray.

Percival frowned. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Luna, a new servant. I was hired to serve Lord Ignatius Everflame and Lord Cyprian here at the factory.” She smiled. “But after your ordeal, I thought you might like some tea.” She inclined her head.

“You can leave it on the table.”

The banshee did so, bowed, and left.

Percival walked to a cupboard where he kept a change of clothes. Normally, it was there just in case of an incident where he might give off too much smoke. Phoenixes rarely burst into flames unless they were dying, of course.

But why had he burst into flames today?