Page 60 of Our Radiant Embers

“True. But in this case, it’s also a fact.”

I nodded, and for fuck’s sake, this wasn’t goodbye—it was see you tomorrow, no big deal, but my heart was in a dramatic mood. “I’ll wear that, then.”

“See that you do.” Another second stretched between us. Then Adam reached out to squeeze my hand, smiled, and was gone.

* * *

That was the first night I dreamed of losing control. Magic rushed from my body in waves and waves, rolled over London like a tsunami that snapped skyscrapers like matchsticks and crushed entire city blocks like paper houses.

I woke up in a cold sweat, the first light of dawn trickling through the blinds. With sleep pushed to the fringes of my mind, I got up, dressed, and went for a run.

By the time I got back, the dream was no more than a wispy memory.

12

ADAM

The interviews went fine. I took the lead, oozing the kind of charm I’d been trained for. Liam chimed in with made-up details about novel combinations of known materials, about modular construction techniques that allowed for building components off-site, about drastically improved construction workflows and resource allocation.

Neither his tan nor the light blue shirt that flattered his skin tone could hide how tired he looked. It wouldn’t be obvious in the photos that positioned us in front of a panoramic London view, breathtaking from the thirty-first floor—but to me, it was.

After the second interview, we exited into the lunchtime rush. The Shard’s spire-shaped glass facade reflected the midday sun, towering above a fast-moving sea of suits and phones in pursuit of a decent bite to eat.

“I thought you were sleeping better?” I asked Liam as we turned left. With one of the construction sites just a short walk away, we’d agreed to take a look at how they’d veiled it from the public.

“I am, yeah. Generally speaking.” Liam threw me a sharp glance before he faced forward again. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem a bit tired, that’s all.” Or was I not supposed to care? We were friends, though. Only that, but…friends. I swallowed against the metallic taste at the back of my throat.

“Oh.” Another glance, softer this time. “It wasn’t the Initiative keeping me awake, in this case. Just some nightmare—woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep. Was it obvious in the interviews?”

No regret about us, then. Of course not. I wouldn’t want to date me either—a guy more comfortable in a bespoke suit than with his true self.

“No.” I hoped my smile passed inspection. “You did well. I just know you.”

I hadn’t meant to imply anything by it, but Liam’s brow furrowed briefly before it smoothed out. This was...God. It sucked. I didn’t want to weigh my every word around him. We’d moved past that, hadn’t we?

“I guess you do,” he said softly, attention not on me but on the crowds around us.

We turned onto a narrower side street that seemed to have largely dodged the lunch hour rush. Red brick buildings lined one side, an active construction zone on the other, bordered by a small community garden. It was slightly cooler here, the sun blocked by cranes and scaffolding.

The silence between us provided a counterpoint to the hustle and city noises around us. I fumbled for something to say—the weather, an update on our first fully functional energy tower, how much I wanted to kiss the dip of his throat since he’d undone the first three buttons of his shirt. Nothing quite made it out.

“So how does it work?” he asked eventually. “Next Monday, I mean. With the first demolition.”

“I’m the sledgehammer.” That’s how my family mostly saw me—a tool that got the job done. “So I’ll set the site on fire, very high heat to get a more complete combustion process. We’ll have air mages create a containment barrier, and then earth mages will draw the smoke and CO2 and all into the soil, transform it into calcite.”

“That should be a sight.” Liam’s voice was tinged with warmth. “Haven’t seen you in full action since you tried to scare me with a bottle of sand.”

“You’ve seen me in action plenty.” I hadn’t meant to pack it with innuendo, but the immediate upwards twitch of Liam’s lips told me he’d caught it.

“I wouldn’t say it was plenty.” Then he seemed to remember the line he himself had drawn yesterday, and his face sobered. “No, I just meant—what you and I worked on, that was all about precision. I know what you can do—better than most, probably. But it’s a difference, knowing and seeing.”

My mind went hazy with the memory of Liam under me, of sending tendrils of my magic out to caress the insides of his thighs. Precision. I blinked away the image.

“I expect a standing ovation,” I told him, and he sent me a shrewd look.

“I’ll bring my ‘Team Harrington’ T-shirt.”

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