Page 14 of Our Radiant Embers

“Fine.” I glanced at his profile. “My place, tomorrow at three. You need directions?”

Let’s see you out of your element.

“I’ll find it.” Curt and precise.

All right, then.

We crossed the hall diagonally, a massive chandelier above our heads. The grandeur of the place was damn near suffocating, each gilded detail and shimmering tapestry screaming of accumulated wealth. Growing up here must have been a starkly different experience from the crowded four-bedroom flat my family had lived in until not that long ago—my parents and my grandmother, my brother, my sister, and me. Never a dull moment, that was for sure, and privacy a rare and wonderful luxury.

I would love to explore this place unsupervised. The Harringtons were of old magic, so it wasn’t just their library that would be a treasure trove—somewhere here, there’d be a dedicated room for circle practice. Rituals involving hand-drawn patterns had been around for centuries, and while a few mundane ones could be found in books, the most potent ones were guarded closely and passed down within families. Only rumours circulated, from circles of power that could supercharge an already powerful mage, to recovery rituals that sped up the replenishment of one’s reserves after they’d run dry, to patterns that vastly extended the reach of a person’s magic.

I’d never match Adam’s power. But if I could increase my own just a little, I might be able to push the boundaries of technology.

We were a few steps from the main door when it opened. A young man in running clothes came in, tracking dirt that would no doubt be mopped up within minutes. His physical resemblance to Adam was startling—the same dark hair and hazel eyes, the same straight nose and full lips. His magic, though, registered as a mere flicker. Another cousin?

The young man caught sight of us and stopped for a shy smile. “Hey.”

“Liam.” Adam’s voice carried a trace of reluctance. “This is Gale, my brother. Gale, you’ve heard of Liam Morgan.”

Adam’s brother was a Spark, the weakest of mages?

I knew better than to blurt out the question. The ability to read someone’s magic was rare and made people uncomfortable, so Nan Jean had taught me to fake ignorance. But, wow. If this was any other family, it wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary—magical power was distributed in a pyramid, with Sparks the most common, Blazes already less so, Suns fairly rare, and just a few dozen Novas in our entire London community.

But families like the Harringtons married for optimal chances to produce powerful heirs. Clearly, it had failed with Gale, and it had failed with Adam’s cousin Christian too. Was this why Gale rarely attended events with the rest of his family—did they hide him away? Then again, Christian had been present at the Blackwoods’ ball for the Initiative, so maybe not. Gale must have been around in school, but given he was several years younger than Adam and me, I hadn’t actively noticed him.

Poor lad, though. Disappointment would be a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“Pleasure,” I said, offering a bright smile along with my hand.

“Pleasure?” Adam echoed somewhat incredulously while Gale’s fingers gripped mine for a brief, cautious shake. “I thought you hated us all on principle.”

“Not quite,” I told Adam. “Just those of you involved in the family business. Since I don’t remember hearing much about you”—I nodded at Gale—“I’m gonna go with innocent until proven guilty.”

To my surprise, Gale shifted to stand next to Adam, a small frown creasing his brow. “I do stuff in the background. Like, I helped with our proposal and Adam’s pitch for the Green Horizon Initiative.”

Hmm. Either my relative ignorance had insulted Gale, or he was defending his brother. Hard to say. The softening around Adam’s mouth implied it was the latter, though.

“Gale just completed his Master’s in architecture,” Adam informed me. “He designed the residential district of our proposal.”

“Not by myself.” Even though Gale ducked his head, it didn’t quite hide the pleased quirk of his lips.

Okay, this was weird. Adam wasn’t ...kind, for lack of a better word. Or warm. He was proud and cold, confident in a way that I both admired and despised.

“Nice design,” I told Gale. “Couple it with some of our ideas and we’re on to—what was it?” I slid Adam a sly grin. “A revolution?”

“Revolutions are only as good as the people running them.”

Ah, there was the perfectly infuriating Adam that I knew. I let my grin widen. “Revolutions also question the established order, so they’re typically led by the underdogs.”

Adam flicked me an unimpressed look. “The American Revolution would beg to differ.”

“An exception that proves the rule.”

“Oh, do we pick and choose our facts now?”

Gale’s gaze moved from me to Adam and back, a spectator at a clown show. Welcome to the circus.

“It’s called context.” I felt abruptly tired. Three hours spent with a guy who wouldn’t hesitate to pounce on the slightest hint of perceived weakness could do that to a person. “Anyway.” I started for the front door that Gale had left open, a cool breeze wafting in. “Adam, let’s pick this up tomorrow. Gale, nice to meet you.”

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