Page 73 of Our Radiant Embers

“Because…” I trailed off.

Because that was how it worked, wasn’t it? Yeah, I’d rid myself of people who expected me to continuously pay for them, but I had a handful of casual friends who I sometimes met for dinners or a movie. As the wealthiest guy among them, I picked up the tab a good part of the time. They might put up some token protest, but they didn’t actually mind.

Liam’s protest seemed genuine. But why?

“Because,” I started fresh, “it’s a nice, easy thing I can do for you.”

“Okay.” Liam nodded, voice even. “And what about nice, easy things that I can do for you?”

That was…

Well.

It was the kind of question Cassandra might ask. Or Gale, but as my brother, he ranked in a different category.

I must have been silent for a beat too long, staring at Liam, because he shook his head. “I don’t hang around you for the free stuff, Adam.”

While said lightly, it made me straighten on a quick intake of air. “I know. That’s not what I think.”

“So let me contribute. As you keep telling me”—his mouth curved up—“I can afford things now. Whether it’s a new office or some pizza.”

It made sense. Then why did it stir a strange, sweet pang in my stomach?

“Okay,” I said.

“Good.” The smile sat mostly around his eyes now. He brushed his fingers over my wrist, just a quick skim that was over before it fully registered, and turned back to the cashier. “It’s on me.”

“Won this round, did you?” she asked, fond amusement rounding her cheeks.

“I sure did.” He slapped his card down with an air of triumph, and I ducked my head to hide a laugh. I felt…Christ. I felt free. And that was dangerous, wasn’t it?

It was only for three days, though. Three days by the sea. I could pretend to be a little happier, a little less trapped.

Just for three days.

* * *

My thoughts washed up in time with the waves.

We’d eaten on the terrace of the beach house, then taken the bottle of wine down to the pebbly shore just as the sunset had rolled in along with the tide. I wasn’t used to being quiet with someone else, but over the past few weeks, even months, I’d come to learn that Liam didn’t always feel a need to fill silence with words.

Salt in the air. Bold strokes of orange, pink, and purple across the sky, the sea reflecting them in shimmering colours. A cool breeze sneaking underneath my jacket. The taste of wine lingering on my tongue.

“You know what’s weird?” Liam broke the silence, voice blending in with the gentle lapping of the waves. “I love London. There’s nowhere else I’d rather live. But sometimes, I need to get away to feel like I can breathe again.”

“It’s lighter here, isn’t it?” I handed him the bottle, our fingers brushing. “Like, you ever feel like there’s a certain weight to your magic? Or maybe that’s just me.”

“No, that’s…” A faint sigh. “Yeah. I get what you mean.”

Another moment of silence fell. I flattened my hand against the cool, uneven ground, only a hint of the day’s warmth lingering under my palm.

“Most of the time,” I said softly, “I don’t mind, you know? The weight. It’s like a familiar blanket—warm and comfortable. Just once in a while, that’s when it’s nice to fold it up and set it aside and take a few steps without it.”

I wasn’t really sure what I was saying, whether it made any sense. The rhythm of the sea lulled my mind into slow, dreamy lethargy, and honestly, I was exhausted too. There was the yo-yo effect of partially draining my magic only to reclaim it overnight, and sleeping in a circle was never truly restful. One night in a proper bed hadn’t been enough to recover.

“I never used to feel like my magic was heavy,” Liam said. He handed the bottle back, his words as slow as my mind. “Wonder if it’s because you’re much more powerful?”

Huh. I’d never considered that.

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