Page 100 of Our Radiant Embers

Liam left around two, after we’d slept for a couple of hours and had shared leftover cheese, nuts, and an apple on my balcony. It wasn’t until I got ready to head out myself that I noticed the folded note sitting next to my wallet and keys.

‘Even if it’s hiding, you’re worth every second.’

Was I?

I bit my lip against the sting of tears and took a deep breath. Another. Then I tucked the note into my wallet.

A reminder, just in case I forgot.

* * *

When I arrived back at the manor, my family was largely absent. Only my youngest cousin Arabella practised the piano in the wing that housed my aunt, uncle, and their two daughters. Christian was old enough to have his own space.

I used the chance and ducked into the library. Years ago, Gale had sorted our books on magic by topics, and it took me precious minutes to locate the section that dealt with other countries. China, Italy, Egypt…There—France.

Six books in total. Neither France’s mythology nor its magical society in the Middle Ages seemed likely to yield much relevant information, so I dismissed those books along with two more on the witchcraft trials and on Catherine de Medici’s ties to the occult sciences. More promising was one titled Parisian Arcana, and another on France’s most prominent magical families, published some twenty years ago.

It was a place to start. I turned to make my escape, books tucked under one arm.

And found my father standing in the doorway.

He was studying me with an air of aloof surprise, and how had I not caught his approach? Maybe because the tinkling notes of my cousin’s practice still filled the air. But I wasn’t doing anything forbidden, not at all—just browsing for a thrilling read, felt like developing a sudden niche interest in France’s magical tapestry, don’t mind me.

“Now that’s an unexpected sight,” he said, one eyebrow arched as he stepped into the room.

Casual, casual. It wasn’t like he’d be able to sniff the connection to Liam on me. And maybe, longer term, Liam might even want to make a subtle show of his growing powers—but not yet, not while he was still adjusting.

My shrug turned out suitably dismissive, tone light. “Now that I’m thirty, I figure it’s time to sharpen my mind along with my body.”

“How commendable.” My father glanced at the books. “And your chosen intellectual gateway is France?”

“Cassandra mentioned she’d love a trip to Paris sometime. It reminded me that you said magic is completely different there.” My expression was pleasant enough to qualify for a monarch’s royal portrait.

“Not completely different,” my father corrected. Like most people, he found it hard to leave an imprecise statement uncommented. “But there are nuances.”

I tilted my head. ”Nuances?”

“A small number of families are capable of controlling more than two elements, for one.” My father put it out there as a casual statement.

“Oh?” Polite interest was what I aimed for, and I hoped I succeeded. “How strange. I thought it was one of those elemental rules. Pun unintended.”

My father pursed his mouth, watching me with a strange kind of attention. “Not for those rare few who draw power from the ley lines.”

Ley lines. Really?

In the UK, the concept of magical currents that connected geographical and historical landmarks, monuments and sacred spaces, had fallen into near-obscurity. Sure, there were some who still defended the idea, pointing to how the biggest magical communities had evolved around storied sites—magic thrived where a great many people got together and shared tales and beliefs.

I shifted the books in my arm. “Right, you might have mentioned that. Isn’t that just a myth, though? It seems odd that they would have learned how to do it and everyone here has failed.”

“As always, innovation is the result of circumstances, determination, and happenstance.”

Something about his tone resonated oddly with me. My father was no fan of answering endless questions, though, so I’d have to select them carefully. “The Blanchard family…” I hesitated. “Do they control all four elements?”

They’d fit the bill, wouldn’t they? Not that I knew much about them, but they certainly were powerful—the burnt ruin of Notre Dame could speak to that. What were the chances, though?

“Since when are you taking a vested interest in strengthening our alliances?” The words were laced with pointed criticism. All right, time to make my escape if I didn’t want another debate about when to announce the engagement.

“Since always,” I said. “I just happen to think there are various ways of going about it.”

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