Page 30 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
She shrugs, aqua darkening her cheeks. “Well, Betmal has taken me to games in six or seven havens at this point, and all the names are pretty strong, but ours is, well…it sounds more childlike to me?” She lifts both hands quickly, as if to apologize. “I don’t know who came up with it, and I don’t mean to offend. But most of the other names are alliterative, as well. Hearth HQ Hellions, Pine Gulch Punishers. But we’re the Ever Misfits. Sounds like a ragtag band of preteens.”
I don’t mean to gawk, but I’m sure I must. She’s absolutely right.
I tug at one of my waves before flipping it over my shoulder as I stare at my half-eaten burger. Eventually, I nod as I return my focus to the stunning young mermaid. “Alright, why don’t you two take a stab at a new logo and new name? Surprise us. You’re our resident creatives. Arkan and town leadership would have to approve it, but see what you can do.”
Betmal strokes a thick lock of Amatheia’s dark hair back behind her frilled ear. “What about the Enforcers, ma sirène? Epics? Eternals? Hmm.” He glances up in thought, then over to me. “Amatheia’s right, of course. We’ll come up with something for you, sweet friend. When do you need it?”
“Welll…” I draw the word out long. “It would be great to share it ASAP if we want to include it in the exhibition game. But maybe, now that I’m thinking about it, it would be better to keep the Misfits for now and unveil a new name later?”
By the end of lunch, Betmal and Ama agree to design not only a new logo and merch, but signs for the competing teams. Now I just need to talk to Manorin about this, because I sprang it on him at the meeting as well. It just came to me, and I couldn’t wait to share it.
“How are things going with Manorin in town?” Betmal eyes me carefully as he takes an elegant sip of his drink.
Rascal. He knows I dated Manorin for many years. Betmal was front and center to the way that turned out…he’s been my friend for a very, very long time.
“Just fine,” I hedge. “He’s absolutely lovely and it’s been nice to catch up.”
Betmal grins at me, revealing twin white fangs. “Oh I just bet it has, darling. How much catching up are you doing?”
Ama nudges him in the side with a little laugh. “Stop needling her, mate.”
Betmal slings an arm around Ama but continues grinning at me. “And yet I sense a moment of rekindling, and I’m nosy, so tell me, Catherine, how much catching up is happening?”
I roll my eyes as I take another sip of my cocktail. “None of your business,” I manage finally.
We share a laugh, but it does occur to me that keeping this arrangement with Nor under wraps might be harder than it initially seemed.
Especially if Betmal is going to insert himself up into my business.
Nosy vampire.
“You’re absolutely sure?” I stare at my comm watch where Wren’s name hovers.
“Absolutely,” she says with confidence. “Annabelle loves us. We’ll come hang out so she’s not lonely, and, honestly, I’m an excellent cook. I can keep the buffet going while you’re gone, do the sheets, all the things. Oh,” her voice goes thoughtful, “I can spend some time in the rose garden too. I’d love that.”
“So would the rose garden, so long as you work your magic on her.”
Wren laughs. “Well, I don’t know. How enormous do you want the roses to be when you return?”
I join her in laughter, considering how her green magic could be used to do incredible things to my flowers.
After we hang up, I clean the kitchen and prep breakfast, but my thoughts don’t stray far from Manorin. He was with Arkan most of the morning after our meeting, then he came back and went to his room to make calls.
The Annabelle’s quiet. It’s late. I should probably let himknow the Hectors agreed to watch Annabelle for our trip to Pine Gulch.
Am I really leaving Ever for the first time in centuries? I didn’t realize how hermit-y I’d gotten over the years, but the prospect of seeing another haven excites me after all this time.
Smiling, I ascend the stairs. When I get to the rose room, I rap lightly on the door.
“Come on in, Sunshine.”
Manorin’s greeting makes me smile, and I swing the door open to find him huddled over a stack of papers, his comm disk on the table in front of him. When I enter and close the door, he sits back in the chair, focus drifting lazily down my body and back up.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
His praise lights something inside me, something that was dead for a long time, then kindled slowly back to life. It turns into a roaring bonfire in Manorin’s presence, though.
I sashay into the room and sit in the chair across from him, looking down at the papers. “What are you working on?”
