Page 109 of Our Radiant Embers

ADAM

It was one of those rare London mornings that glistened like a gem, a clear blue sky arching above, the temperature not yet high enough for haze to rise from the city. Out on the balcony, I tipped my face into the sun, closed my eyes, and took a minute to soak in the warmth.

Then I turned to the book that portrayed France’s magical elite. Its cover was a rich burgundy, the title embossed in gold. Enchanté: The Unfiltered Guide to France’s Arcane Aristocracy.

Charming.

I opened the pages to a satin ribbon bookmark. When I’d offered to get started without Liam, it had been partly to counter his unease that I’d sensed, yes—more than that, though, I had yet to share my inkling about the Blanchard family. There was no need to unsettle him when I might very well be wrong.

But it was a place to start. I checked the index at the back and then flipped to the correct page, dominated by a family crest surrounded by lilies. All right, then.

‘In the tapestry of Paris’s magical elite, the Blanchard family stands as a testament to arcane prowess and enigmatic influence, firmly positioned within the top ten Paris mage families. Their ranks boast four distinguished mages, each mastering elements as diverse as the city’s own rich palette, while the extent of the broader family’s power remains a closely guarded enigma.’

Diverse elements, was it? If it hadn’t been for my father’s comment, I might have simply concluded that elemental control in France varied more widely within families.

‘Amid the swirl of rumours,’ the introduction continued, ‘there’s talk of an ancient artefact, a hidden wellspring of their considerable influence, though specifics are elusive.’

So…this artefact. Was it, in fact, the ley lines, and they’d simply chosen to obscure the source of their powers? Also—if they had four top-ranking mages, did they all secretly control more than one element? And if the answer was yes, did they register at Nova-level for each and every one?

Because if so, wow. That kind of power would be terrible and awe-inspiring.

Could Liam’s magic evolve further?

I inhaled, tucked a finger underneath the leather bracelet clasped around my wrist, and kept reading.

‘Adding a dash of intrigue to their storied legacy is the famed fallout with the Duval family in the 1940s, a broken engagement that sowed the seeds of a rivalry, simmering just beneath the surface and occasionally boiling over.’

Oh, bloody hell. A broken engagement in the forties—that couldn’t be a coincidence. Right?

I leaned forward just enough to glance into the flat, a straight shot at Liam moving around the kitchen in a pair of boxers. He was…important. God—he was so important to me. I should call him, tell him what I’d found.

Which meant telling him that his great-grandfather belonged to a family line that had set Notre Dame on fire.

The other family, though. What about them? The Duvals, and now that I thought about it, I recognised the name as the Blanchards’ counterpart in that escalation. Two people had died that day, the irreparable damage to a beloved cultural monument notwithstanding.

I skimmed the detailed text on the Blanchard family, bouncing from name to name until—there. The engagement.

Lucien Duval had been engaged to Margaux Blanchard. When he’d broken it off upon returning from the Second World War, it had been a huge affront that had tongues wagging and forced a duel between him and Etienne Blanchard, Margaux’s brother. Etienne Blanchard had not survived the challenge.

Lucien Duval. I’d found Liam’s great-grandfather.

Slowly, I got up and made my way towards the kitchen, clutching the book to my chest. Something about my face must have tipped Liam off because he stopped to look at me, then turned off the stove. Fried eggs, half-finished, had only just begun to thicken in a pan. The sight turned my stomach. I looked away.

“You found something.” Liam’s even inflection made it a statement more than a question.

“I believe so,” I said anyway.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”

“Well.” Carefully, I set the book down on the kitchen worktop. “Depends on your perspective, I guess. Although I haven’t…I only read up on the other family, not yours. Because my father mentioned them, and I thought—you know, maybe.” I’d been trained in eloquence, yet somehow, I didn’t manage to make sense outside my head.

For a second, we didn’t speak, the space filled with distant city sounds. Liam’s gaze was heavy on me, and I didn’t quite manage to hold it.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Start from the beginning, please?”

Right.

“Okay, yeah.” Get it together. “So, a couple of years ago, my dad and Eleanor took a trip to Paris. It was related to a client project, but they also used it to explore business ties with the Parisian magical elite. Does the name Blanchard ring a bell?”

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