Page 140 of Our Radiant Embers

I didn’t reply—neither denied nor confirmed it, simply straightened my back, pressed my lips together, and waited.

Something might have betrayed my surprise, though, because Eleanor gave a sharp, biting laugh. “Honestly, Adam. Your lack of discretion is astounding. Most mages with leanings like yours, they know how to take care of things quietly. You, however? Oh, no. You just had to take a lover and shack up with him in your city flat.”

In my…

My flat. With a doorman who’d seen Liam come and go so many times.

“You’re spying on me?” I dropped all pretence of a calm, collected attitude. “How fucking dare you? I’ve done just about anything you ever asked of me.” My attention swivelled to my dad. “I show up when I’m told, I make nice with the right people, I’ve staged so many moments to make the others look more powerful than they are. And now there’s this one thing I want for myself?—”

“The hold-up of your formal engagement to Cassandra Hartley is an embarrassment,” my father began, and no, okay, I’d had it.

“Cassandra doesn’t want to marry me either!”

The last time I’d interrupted my father, I’d washed up at a hole-in-the-wall pub trying to drown my sorrows. This time, he stared at me for an endless second that twisted through my intestines. Then he sighed as though I was a burden he’d never asked for.

“Thank you for the clarity, Adam.”

I waited for the rest. Nothing came. “That’s it?” I asked once silence started to weigh on the room. “‘Thank you for the clarity’?”

“I’ve learned not to count on you,” he said, open resignation in his voice. “It’s been a slow and painful process, but here we are.”

It hurt. It fucking hurt. Maybe I should have expected it, but it turned out that a stupid, naive part of me had still believed in miracles. Toughen up, honey.

“I’m your Plan A,” I said faintly, feeling my way along unfamiliar terrain as I kept my attention on my father. “If I walk out this door now, it leaves the others vulnerable. You won’t be around forever.”

”Good thing we made alternative plans,” my uncle spoke up for the first time. I glanced at him, then at Eleanor, and back at my father.

“Alternative plans?” I asked, aiming for defiance.

My father assessed me with a narrow look, his expression as grave as his voice. “Tell us about Liam Morgan.”

So this was what it came down to.

My words were as steady as the beating of my heart behind my ribs—hard, yes, but sure and regular. “Water mage,” I started. “Oldest of three siblings. Some five years ago?—”

“Get out.” Sharp like a whip, no discernible emotion on my father’s face.

I rose from the armchair. Head held high, I refused to look at anyone other than my dad. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Highly unlikely,” Eleanor stated with the kind of confidence that grated along my teeth.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I told her.

Ten seconds passed—I counted them out in my head, and really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. My father was a proud man.

I nodded and turned to leave.

It was only once I was out of sight in the hallway that my knees suddenly buckled, a high tide rising behind my eyes and threatening to pull me under. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand and waited until it passed.

I made a choice. Whatever it takes.

25

LIAM

For the second time in as many days, Adam showed up unannounced on my doorstep. He looked a mess—caught out in the rain with his hair plastered to his skull, lashes clumped together and eyes wet.

“Hey.” I folded my arms around him and he sagged into me, skin and bones and sadness that radiated off him in waves. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

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