Page 11 of Our Radiant Embers

“Studying me like I’m a fascinating scientific specimen won’t change my answer,” I told him.

“I’m just trying to understand your rationale.”

“You could consider asking.”

Something close to amusement flashed in his eyes and faded again, tension pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a smart guy?—”

“Careful there,” I interrupted. “Continue buttering me up and it’ll become a slip hazard around here.”

Adam shot me a narrow-eyed look. “You’re a smart guy, and you’re not delusional. You know this is too big for your family. So why insist on being hands-on when I’m offering you an alternative that’ll let you save face?” He paused, brow furrowing ever so slightly. “The project running smoothly will reflect well on you, too.”

In all fairness, it made sense—in a ‘may your throne crumble under the weight of your conceit’ kind of way, granted. But sense nonetheless.

“True.” I let it sit between us for a moment. “It will also reflect on us how we treat the people who work for the project—and that’s where I don’t trust your family.”

Blunt? Yes. He’d been too, though, so he could hardly complain. Also, the last time we’d discussed this topic had been a slippery slope to…yeah, well.

Adam leaned back in his chair, oozing defiant confidence. “You keep waffling on about that.”

“Ever visited an active construction site?”

“I visit sometimes.”

I flicked him a dismissive look. “Really.”

“Yes.”

“And what, exactly, would someone like you be doing there?”

His chin tipped up. Without a word, he set his coffee down, rose from his chair, and walked past me. Since I was only human, I let my gaze linger on the way his trousers clung to his exasperatingly perfect arse. Yeah, he was hot. Too bad about the personality.

He turned with a decorative sand bottle in his hands, a twitch of his lips hinting that he’d caught me looking. That was fine; I hadn’t aimed for subtlety.

“Quaint,” I commented, crossing one leg over the other. “Didn’t take you for the kind of guy who keeps beach souvenirs. It’s so…plebeian.”

Still no response from him. He removed the cork and set it aside. Then, after offering me an edged smile, he threw the sand in the air.

And lit it on fire.

Holy shit.

The grains glowed a blueish white, suspended for a second before they condensed into a triangle. It turned red before Adam caught it in his open palm. I choked back a warning. Hot. The triangle, not Adam. Which, that had to be…God, I didn’t remember. But I’d fucking learned this stuff during my studies. Like, blue marked the hottest part of the flame, red the coolest, and it took something like two thousand degrees to melt sand, didn’t it? And clearly, my brain was grappling for the useless comfort of facts because I’d never actually seen a Nova in action.

“You wanted to know why I’d be on a construction site?” Adam took a couple of swaggering steps towards me and held out his hand. “This is why.”

Glass. He’d melted the sand into a small arrow made of crystal-clear glass. Christ, what a deliberate display of power, designed to show me just how out of my depth I was. Yeah, all right—message fucking received.

I straightened my spine, curling one hand into a tight fist so I could focus on the sting of fingernails pressing into my palm. “Neat party trick.” My voice wasn’t as firm as I would have liked, but I pushed on regardless. “Bet it brings all the girls to the yard.”

Should I feel threatened? I wasn’t sure.

“You know what’s funny?” Adam asked.

“I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”

He looked down at me, broad shoulders, head tilted at a thoughtful angle. “You were the quiet type in school. What happened?”

It surprised me he remembered because yes, I had been the quiet type. While I’d had a handful of friends, we kept to ourselves—not drawing attention, good students who handed their homework in on time, unremarkable magic potential. I’d been adept at blending in and knew to keep my mouth shut about things that set me apart, like the ability to see magic in a way others didn’t.

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