Page 118 of Our Radiant Embers

To keep up appearances, he left for the construction site before me. Our first at-scale test of the waste recycling unit would be a nailbiter—we’d gathered enough rubbish from construction activity to feed it through several chutes that already existed, and then, well. Fingers crossed.

I arrived some minutes after Adam and picked my way through the emerging landscape of the commercial area, the morning breeze tugging on my clothes. He was talking with Eleanor, and I hesitated before I decided to approach—he’d told me that the idea of an alliance was slowly taking roots. If I didn’t want to leave it all to him, I better make an effort to play nice.

They stood next to the tower. There’d been further delays to it although Adam didn’t know the specifics—“not like they ever ask for my input”—but it sure looked impressive. Lush greenery wound around it, pink blossoms dripping colour that was at odds with the naked soil that still dominated the area. Its clear, phallic glass shape glowed with faint residual fire magic that would show at night, interwoven with a transparent spiral that dipped in and out of sight, ready to collect rain and guide it down in playful patterns. A wind sculpture at the top spun slowly with the breeze.

Its magic composition, though? It was a mess. The elements snaked around each other, tendrils whipping at the air. That would take some work.

I joined Adam and Eleanor with a polite smile and a fairly neutral, “Good morning.”

“Liam.” Eleanor nodded, assessing me with a quick, sharp look. For the first time, it felt like there might be a hint of respect in her tone.

“Eleanor.” I nodded back, and by design, it had been a couple of weeks since I’d last seen her. It had seemed best to steer clear of the sharks until my magic steadied. “How are you?”

“Very well. Very well indeed.” She pressed her lips together in something that wasn’t quite disdain. “I hear you stand ready to deliver on your high claims of unprecedented innovation?”

“We are,” I said. “I’m sure there’ll be a few glitches here and there, but nothing we won’t be able to solve.” I felt like a fraud for not mentioning Adam’s help, but we’d agreed it was better this way.

“Surprising,” Eleanor stated crisply. “I fully expected you to fail.”

Lovely.

I glanced at Adam, who widened his eyes at me. Play nice. Right—not the moment to mention that they had yet to deliver on their own claims regarding the energy penis.

“It’s an honour to prove you wrong,” I told her with the saccharine air of an artificial sweetener. “How are your projects coming along? With everything on track on our side, I’ve got some capacity if you’d like another opinion on the energy”—I inserted a pause so brief that only Adam would notice—“tower.”

And, oops. Playing nice? Ten out of ten points to me.

“How kind of you.” Eleanor’s tone implied the opposite, yet the note of respect was more discernible now.

“Oh, my pleasure.” I shoved both hands into my pockets and strove for a casual statement, nothing that suggested I knew what Adam was trying to do. “The way I see it, we have a shared interest in making this a success. If it is, we’ll be working together for years to come. We may come from very different backgrounds, but that shouldn’t stand in the way of a fruitful collaboration.”

Ah, Christ. I’d aimed for casual and ended up sounding like a politician trying to win key opposition votes. Fortunately, Adam came to my rescue before I could trip over my own tongue some more.

“Well, it’s hardly a secret that partnering with you wasn’t our first choice.” He grinned at me, the way a friend might. “But we’ve made it work, haven’t we?”

“We sure have,” I agreed and reminded myself that this was what I’d signed up for. So what if I knew what Adam tasted like, what sounds he made when he was turned on? In public, we were friends—if that.

“I hear your sister will accompany you to the gala tonight?” Eleanor asked, her face a mask of polite interest even as she watched me closely. For what? Oh. Should I imply that Laurie was more than she seemed to make us appear even stronger? I resisted glancing at Adam for cues.

“She will,” I said simply.

It was two invitations per family, and after some deliberation, we’d decided that this wasn’t the event for me to attend alone. Showing up with my mother or father would send the wrong message, so it was either Jack or Laurie, and between the two of them, she’d be far more comfortable navigating an elitist crowd that sneered behind our backs. ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,’ she’d said, and even I had to admit that she’d come a long way since being bullied at school. She was still my little sister, though, even if Cassandra had taken her shopping a week ago. The resulting dress made Laurie look five years older and really quite imposing.

Eleanor made a considering noise. “And will this be her first time attending such a high-profile gathering?”

My expression was perfectly pleasant. “It will be, yes.”

“How exciting,” Eleanor said.

“Oh, yes.” I was Teflon, everything just rolling right off my skin. “She’s looking forward to it quite a bit.”

“And you aren’t worried she might find it…” A delicate pause. “Overwhelming to be surrounded by so many powerful mages?”

“Thank you for the concern.” I let my mouth curl into a smile. “But my sister can hold her own, and of course I’ll be there with her. And I hear both Adam”—my gaze flicked to him—“and Gale will be there too, so that’s at least two friendly faces.”

According to Adam, Gale had been ordered to attend. Apparently, it had been a while since he had last shown up at a social event, and Benedict Harrington felt his absence might be read as an admission of weakness. ‘Social chess,’ was what Adam had called it. ‘Everything is moves and countermoves.’ I’d told him it seemed more like an instance of medieval jousting, where the longest lance held the biggest sway. ‘Not everything is about dick size,’ he’d replied, and I’d kissed the laugh right off his lips.

“I expect it will be a perfectly pleasant atmosphere.” Adam stood very upright, his head tilted at a proud angle—a practised projection of confidence, as though his aunt’s mere presence triggered an automatic straightening of his back. “No one would cross Archer Summers on her home turf.”

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