Page 22 of Our Radiant Embers

Eleanor clasped her hands, a thoughtful twist to her mouth. “That could come in handy.”

“Indeed.” Father sent me a mildly approving look. “Well played, Adam.”

I tried to hide my shock. My father believed that lack of criticism was a form of accolade and rationed praise as though each word cost him a pound.

“Thank you,” I mumbled. Speak up, son. “Along those same lines…Andrew Morgan used to work for J. Brown, and it seems they’ve been cutting corners with labour regulations. I told Liam we’d address it.” At the subtle narrowing of Eleanor’s eyes, I added, “In the spirit of seeming collaborative. And because we don’t want them holding up the construction process by checking every detail.”

A silent glance passed between Eleanor and my father, unspoken agreement in the way they angled their heads.

“I will look into it,” Eleanor said stiffly.

“Thank you,” I told her. “I’ll let Liam know. I suspect they’ll still want a say in the choice of contractors, though.”

“We cannot afford to work with amateurs.” Father’s voice was sharp.

“Yes, I’m aware.” I flashed a smile, striving to infuse the words with a certainty I didn’t feel. “I’ll handle the Morgans.”

I would. I didn’t know how yet because Liam wasn’t someone who took kindly to being handled—but I’d figure it out.

After all, what choice did I have?

5

LIAM

The dark, warm scent of soil and greenery draped around me like a linen cloak. Gentle rain tinkled on the glass roof of the metal structure, the day’s chill seeming far removed from this verdant oasis. Years of being friends with George had turned his family’s greenhouse into a familiar space of quiet comfort for me.

“So, let me get this straight.” He glanced up from a collection of roses. Their petals were a vivid array of colours, some so deep and rich they seemed almost unreal. “Adam Harrington—the Adam Harrington—climbed down from his high horse long enough to set foot in your house. And promptly decided it needs a do-over.”

“Well. That’s a simplified version of events given it’s just an office, but…roughly accurate, yes.” I tucked a hand into the pocket of my jeans. Since the trickle of earth magic in my veins didn’t compensate for my brown thumb, I was under strict orders not to touch anything as I followed George around the space.

“Okay.” Slowly, he shook his head, a frown crossing his features. “Why? Like, what’s he getting out of it?”

Ah—the crown jewel of questions.

“I mean, it’s just his brother giving me a first idea of what it could look like. We’re not obliged to take their offer after that.” Adam had said it would be the best we’d get, though, and I didn’t doubt it. “But my best guess? A chance to lord it over me.”

Although that hadn’t been my impression yesterday, when he and his brother had dropped by. Just like the first time I’d met Gale, he’d seemed quiet and sweet, and it was clear how much he looked up to Adam. For his part, Adam had been subtly protective, stepping in when my sister had asked why Gale had studied architecture when most fire mages went for something like physics or materials science. In Laurie’s defence, she hadn’t been aware that Gale was a Spark—only Nan Jean and I could read someone's magic potential.

Adam didn’t have any other siblings, and his cousin Christian was also a Spark. To my knowledge, Christian had two younger sisters who rarely attended events—which suggested their magic potential might be equally low. If Adam was the only powerful mage of his generation...

The pressure on him would be enormous.

“You’d owe him,” George said. “If their offer comes with a discount.”

Yes, there was that. I focused on the leaves of a fern, droplets of water shimmering on its delicate fronds. “I’m aware.”

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

Another excellent question.

“Not entirely.” I inhaled, the air in here pleasantly humid. “But he’s right that if this thing goes ahead, I need an actual office.” I rubbed the velvet-soft petal of a rose between my fingers.

“No touching,” George told me, and I snatched my hand back. Right.

“I barely touched it.”

“I can feel it wilting as we speak.”

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