Gemini closed her leather-bound tome with a delicate yawn, the kind that spoke of refined exhaustion rather than mere sleepiness.
"Coby, escort our guests to their accommodations. I require rest—any remaining business can wait until tomorrow." She paused, considering their makeshift attire with obvious distaste. "Also, visit the nearest city and procure proper clothing for both gentlemen. The garments I transfigured from table linens won't maintain their integrity much longer."
With aristocratic grace, she ascended the spiral staircase beside the marble fireplace, her silk dress rustling against the polished steps.
"Gentlemen, if you would follow me," Coby materialized beside them with a formal bow, his large eyes gleaming with professional courtesy.
Though Tony burned with a thousand questions about spatial physics and impossible architecture, something about the house-elf's otherworldly presence suggested that Gemini would prove a more forthcoming source of information.
The staircase led to an elegant second-floor corridor lined with three mahogany doors. Coby selected the nearest, opening it with ceremonial flourish.
"Your suite, Mr. Stark."
Tony stepped inside and felt his breath catch. The room rivaled any five-star hotel he'd ever experienced—plush Persian carpets beneath his feet, hand-painted wallpaper depicting pastoral English scenes, and dominating the space, a magnificent four-poster bed draped in midnight-blue velvet curtains that whispered of old money and older magic.
But it was the window that truly captured his attention.
Moonlight transformed the Afghan desert into an ocean of liquid silver, dunes rolling like frozen waves toward the horizon. The view was impossibly beautiful—and impossibly there, given that the tent's exterior dimensions couldn't possibly accommodate this room's placement.
"Dr. Ethan's quarters are identical," Coby informed them. "Miss Gemini occupies the third floor—strictly private, gentlemen. I trust you'll find everything satisfactory?"
Without waiting for response, the house-elf bowed and vanished.
Tony immediately investigated the adjoining washroom, his engineer's mind cataloging impossibilities. Running water—both hot and cold—in the middle of the desert. A bathtub large enough for two people. Pristine white fixtures that belonged in a Manhattan penthouse, not a magical tent.
"So why the hell did she make us bathe in that oasis?" he called to Ethan.
His companion's voice drifted through the wall between their rooms. "Probably thought we were too filthy for the good china."
By the time they'd exchanged brief goodnights, dawn was already threatening the eastern horizon.
Afternoon sunlight streaming through impossible windows jolted Tony from the deepest sleep he'd experienced in months. For one disorienting moment, he thought he was back in his Malibu workshop—then reality crashed back with the force of a physical blow.
The cave. The terrorists. The girl who claimed to work magic.
A knock interrupted his mental inventory. "Tony? You conscious in there?"
Ethan stood in the corridor, looking remarkably refreshed in clothes that actually fit. Clean-shaven, well-rested, and wearing what appeared to be designer casual wear.
"It's past one o'clock," Ethan continued with amusement. "You've missed breakfast and lunch, but I suspect our host anticipated that."
Tony discovered his own outfit laid precisely on the bedside table—definitely not there when he'd collapsed into bed. Someone had entered while he slept like the dead, leaving behind clothes that looked suspiciously expensive.
After the luxury of a proper shave and hot shower, both men descended to find Gemini ensconced in her favorite armchair, absorbed in what appeared to be a leather-bound grimoire.
The domestic magic surrounding her was casual, almost unconscious—teapot refilling her cup without her glance, silver knife floating through the air to slice pastries into perfect portions, fork hovering at the ready beside her elbow.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she said without looking up from her reading. "I trust you slept adequately?"
"Like the dead," Tony admitted, settling at the dining table. "Any chance of food? I could eat a horse."
"Coby—sustenance for our billionaire guest. Something substantial, if you please."
The house-elf materialized with a spread that would have impressed Gordon Ramsay—eggs Benedict, fresh fruit, coffee that smelled like heaven, and pastries that belonged in a Parisian bakery.
"So," Tony began between bites of the best breakfast he'd tasted in years, "just out of curiosity—you're operating this whole rescue service solo? No family business? Parents not concerned about their daughter running around war zones?"
Something flickered across Gemini's composed features—too quick to interpret, too deep to ignore.
"My parents are deceased," she replied with careful neutrality. "One adapts to circumstances."
The casual way she delivered the information hit Tony harder than expected. This wasn't some rebellious rich girl playing at adventure—this was an orphan who'd built something extraordinary from necessity.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "That was thoughtless."
She acknowledged his apology with a slight nod. "When would you prefer to return to America? I can arrange transport at your convenience."
"Actually..." Tony set down his coffee cup, decision crystallizing. "Could we extend our stay? Maybe a week? I'll pay whatever additional costs, but those weapons in the terrorist base—they're Stark Industries products. I can't leave them operational."
Gemini's entire demeanor shifted, businesswoman replacing bereaved teenager in the space of a heartbeat.
"Extended accommodation runs ten thousand dollars per day, per person. Food, lodging, and complete security included." Her smile turned predatory. "Of course, for ten million dollars, I could simply eliminate the entire weapons cache. Molecular disintegration—not even atomic traces would remain."
Tony's eye twitched at the casual mention of physics-defying destruction. "Twenty thousand daily for both of us sounds perfectly reasonable. We'll handle the weapons personally."
"Acceptable," she conceded with obvious disappointment. "However, our timeline remains fixed—one week maximum. I contracted with Ms. Potts for your safe return within that period."
"Fair enough." Tony leaned back, studying her with renewed interest. "But I have to ask—what exactly are you? This magic you keep mentioning—is it real? Are you some kind of government experiment? Alien? Time traveler?"
Gemini rose gracefully, moving to stand beside his chair. When she smiled, there was something distinctly dangerous in the expression.
"Curiosity killed more than cats, Mr. Stark. Ask too many questions about our world, and certain... authorities... might decide your memory requires editing. They're usually precise, but accidents happen." Her tone remained conversational, almost friendly. "You wouldn't enjoy being an idiot, would you?"
"What if I paid for the information? Money talks, right?"
"Not in this case." She turned away, hands clasped behind her back like a professor delivering a lecture. "Complete knowledge of our world is restricted to family members only. Specifically, husbands or fathers."
Tony nearly choked on his coffee. "Wait—what?"
"Two options," she continued with maddening calm. "Marry me, or adopt me as your daughter. Those are the only paths to full disclosure."
"I could adopt you!" Tony's entrepreneurial mind seized the opportunity. "You're what—seventeen? Eighteen? I've got plenty of money, excellent lawyers—"
CRASH!
A serving platter slammed onto the table with enough force to rattle the china, food scattering across the pristine white tablecloth.
"Absolutely not!" Coby materialized in a fury, pointing an accusatory finger at Tony. "You dare suggest becoming Miss Gemini's father? Her bloodline traces to the oldest Pure-blood families! Her guardian is among the most respected wizards alive! You're nothing but a Muggle!"
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"Coby." Gemini's voice could have frozen fire. "Apologize. Immediately."
The house-elf's ears drooped, tears welling in his enormous eyes. "But Miss—"
"Now."
Coby turned reluctantly to Tony, his voice thick with barely suppressed rage. "My... apologies, sir. I spoke out of turn."
Before Tony could respond, the house-elf burst into anguished sobs and thrust his hand directly into the kitchen's blazing oven.
"Bad Coby! Forgetting Miss Gemini's teachings! Only animals are judged by blood—we are people! Bad, bad Coby!"
The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
"Coby, stop." Gemini's command cracked like a whip. "Heal yourself and return to your duties. We'll discuss your punishment later."
As the house-elf reluctantly withdrew his charred hand and began muttering healing charms, Tony stared in horrified fascination.
What kind of world, he wondered, had he stumbled into?
And more importantly—did he really want to leave it behind?
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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