Page 120 of Our Radiant Embers

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ADAM

I’d grown up wealthy. In fact, I’d grown up very wealthy. Archer Summers was on a different level.

While her three siblings had carried on the family line, Archer herself had focused on overhauling the inner workings of our community. Simultaneously, she’d furthered the family wealth by means of smart decisions and a network that extended into the top layers of non-magical business circles. Cassandra worshipped the hell out of her.

As our car drew to a halt outside the grand manor, Gale fidgeted beside me, his discomfort rolling off him in waves. I kicked his foot. “Game face on. You’re a Harrington, and you’re above them all.”

“That’s such a load of rubbish,” Gale muttered.

“What Adam means,” Cassandra told him, “is that it’s not about fitting in. It’s about acting like you can’t be bothered to even try.”

Ironic, wasn’t it? When we’d picked her up precisely to fulfil expectations that she and I would arrive together.

“Because you and I are prime examples of that,” I said, and she shot me a tiny smile, regal in a night blue gown that wouldn’t have been out of place at a movie premiere.

“Ah, but babe, we are excellent at pretending we can’t be bothered.”

“Emphasis on pretending.”

We stepped out of the car to the sweet, heavy scent of roses in full bloom that wafted over from the gardens. Fire columns lit the gravel drive, the manor looming like an old behemoth of stone and history. The chatter and laughter of other arriving guests veiled an underlying tension—while violence was vehemently prohibited, Summers’ annual gala acted as a forum where the magical elite refined its hierarchy. Here, alliances could form and end.

“Shall we?” Cassandra asked crisply, head already tilted at a haughty angle.

I offered her my arm. “Let the games begin.”

With Gale on my other side, we made our way towards the grand entrance and into a foyer that spelled understated elegance. Winding staircases that met at the top led up to a ballroom that came with high ceilings, tall windows, and black-and-white geometric flooring.

I spotted Liam as soon as we entered. He was in the upper gallery with Laurie, both of them dressed like they belonged and talking amongst themselves as if they had not a care in the world. Good. ‘Don’t hug the walls,’ I’d advised. ‘Get high, be visible. It projects confidence, and that’s what it’s all about. If you don’t know what to do with your hands, get a glass to hold onto.’

Alaric Hartley, who’d arrived separately from his daughter, was already holding court in the centre of the room. We stopped for a few words even as part of my attention lingered on Gale, a quiet shadow beside me, and I scanned the crowd for possible reactions to Liam’s presence. New faces were rare at Summers’ gala, the Morgans the only family to have scored a first-time invitation in the past four years.

Cassandra nudged me just in time to catch the tail end of Alaric’s question about how the Initiative was coming along.

“Excellent,” I told him. Flowers, suspended in mid-air, slowly rotated above our heads and made me feel just the slightest bit dizzy if I looked at them for too long. “We’re making good progress on all three sites. A few things to puzzle out, of course, which is to be expected given the amount of innovative solutions we’re integrating.”

“I hear it’s going well with the Morgans?” he asked, and here was my chance to place another subtle hint that they were prime candidates for an alliance, get in there while you can.

“Yes.” After a glance at our surroundings, I lowered my voice. “They’ve proven to be unexpectedly competent.”

Alaric pursed his mouth, clever eyes studying me for any change in my expression. “Competent?”

I hesitated as though I wasn’t sure how much to reveal. Then I leaned closer. “It appears we’ve underestimated them.”

“Hmm.” That was the extent of Alaric’s commentary, his attention briefly flicking to Liam and Laurie. I didn’t double down and instead directed the conversation towards lighter topics before Cassandra, Gale, and I moved on.

When I suggested we make our way up to the gallery, Cassandra placed a hand on my arm, leaning in with a wide smile as though I’d said something vastly charming. “You’re serious about this?” she asked in an undertone.

Yes. I was fully aware of what message it would send to the assembled crowd if we sought Liam out instead of the other way around. It wouldn’t lower our standing, no—both our families were firmly established. But it would mark the Morgans as potential equals.

“I am, yes.” I returned her smile. “Please?”

She nodded, expression light, something heavy and thoughtful in her gaze. “Of course. As long as you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” I lied. Truth was that I had no fucking clue—I’d kicked off from the shore and was swimming for ever-deeper waters without a life jacket or compass. But whatever I could do to protect Liam and the rest of his family? I’d do it, and then some.

“Good,” she said softly.

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