Page 43 of Our Radiant Embers

The question of how magic passed down through generations was still up for debate. While genes were the most obvious factor, exposure seemed to play a role as well—there’d been cases when a child adopted at a very young age had evolved to mirror the parents’ brand of magic. And then there were cases when a family’s power just seemed to fade away, as though magic had decided to pack its bags and move elsewhere. If I ever had children, they might very well share Gale’s fate.

“Any idea why?” I asked.

Liam tucked his tongue up against his teeth, weighing me for a moment before he replied. “I always thought it might be a clue as to her actual father—her biological one, not the one who raised her.”

“She was adopted?” Fairly unusual in the forties, when she would have been born. Unless, of course, her biological father had been lost to the war.

“Apparently so. I only learned of it a few years ago because my mum let it slip.” Liam’s eyes were very blue—I wasn’t sure why my brain chose this particular moment to notice it. “So of course I went looking for references to magical families that controlled all four elements. Couldn’t find anything, though.”

“Where have you been looking?”

“Anywhere I could get my hands on.”

Meaning publicly available books, most likely. That was hardly a basis for proper research. I’d browsed maybe a fifth of the books in our possession, but I was pretty certain there’d be something on notable magical families.

“Do you want me to check our library?” I asked Liam.

“You’d do that?” His brow furrowed. “Could it cause suspicion?”

“Me reading a book?” I shot Liam a small grin. “Maybe. But I’ll claim it’s something to do with the Initiative.”

“In that case, that would be amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” My cheeks felt warm, so I let my gaze skim over the church roof. “Anyway, we should probably discuss the London Morning thing. I’m going to need some coffee first, though, and yours is probably cold.”

“Coffee would be good, yeah. Strong, please?”

“Give me two minutes.”

I rose and headed inside, grateful for a moment alone to process what I’d seen. It was…Christ. Still a little difficult to believe. It also altered my view of Liam—not as a person, no, or I’d be guilty of lying all those times I’d told Gale that magic didn’t define who you were. But I’d been raised to revere magical power, and there’d been a small, shameful part of me that felt like at least in that respect, I had the upper hand.

While I wasn’t among those who whispered that technomancy was dirty, I’d…Well. I had considered it lesser somehow, an imitation of the real thing. Now?

I wasn’t so sure anymore.

* * *

“An interview?” Liam made it sound as though I’d suggested we shoot a hardcore porno and put it online with our real names attached. Funny, I hadn’t taken him for a drama queen.

“Yes,” I said calmly, fighting a smile. “An interview. Two, in fact—one with The Times, and one with The Evening Standard.”

“No one said anything about interviews.”

“It’s a novel type of urban development affecting three London neighbourhoods. Some interest was to be expected.”

Liam sighed, tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He’d taken off his jumper, nicely muscled arms on display and warm afternoon sun tangling in his hair. A small part of me wondered what he’d do if I leaned across the table, fisted a hand in his T-shirt, and pulled him into a kiss.

Third time’s the charm.

“I don’t think I’m going to be very good at it,” he said.

“It’ll be with friendly journalists, and we’ll get their questions in advance.” Up until this morning, I hadn’t realised that it wasn’t just select politicians that were informed about the existence of magic—the editors-in-chief of certain key publications knew, too. Alaric hadn’t told me how their silence was guaranteed, and I hadn’t asked. “Alaric suggested we keep it easy, wait until early May, so shortly before we begin construction. That way, it doesn’t look like we’re defending ourselves against the London Morning accusations. Just a few sound bites, a couple of pictures that show what the areas will look like—we’ll draw from the models we already have. My assistant will arrange it.”

A tangible moment of hesitation preceded another of Liam’s sighs. “I’m guessing this is mandatory?”

“Well.” I grinned at him, wide and obnoxious. “You can always choose to walk away from it all, of course.”

He snorted, tone light. “Yeah, you’d like that.”

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