Page 71 of Our Radiant Embers

Breathing, both of us.

The world went slow and quiet. At some point, I drifted back to sleep.

14

ADAM

Liam looked exhausted.

Even though I’d seen him every day this week, it was when he slid into the passenger seat of my car that I truly noticed. He still looked good, of course—fit and tall and tan, not that I was biased. But he radiated tiredness. I should have forced him into taking a break sooner.

“Ready to slow down for a few days?” I asked once he’d tossed his bag into the backseat.

“I was ready a month ago—before I watched you flatten a dozen buildings like it’s nothing. No wonder I’m having nightmares.” He softened the statement with a smile that was fringed with fatigue.

I smiled back. “No one forced you to watch.”

Some loved it—got off on it, maybe. Others found it terrifying when houses turned to ashes and dust, couldn’t look me in the eye for a while after. With Liam, it was different because he saw the magic itself as it tore at steel, glass, and concrete. He’d tried describing it to me when we’d made our way to the second site, after the night he’d stayed over. ‘A tsunami of light that crushes everything in its way.’

“True. But what a sight.” He settled deeper into his seat as I started the car, Lila the Drone performing a cheerful somersault in front of the windscreen. “So,” he asked as we backed out of the Morgans’ compound. “I see you skipped a third night in the circle?”

“Yeah. Gave the floor a break and chose my bed instead—much more comfortable.” I tossed him a quick, bright look. “In case you want to try it out again, there’s an open invitation for you.”

“Maybe later,” he said easily. It wasn’t entirely new—ever since we’d cleared the air after those interviews, playful flirting had become part of our interactions when no one was watching. I made no secret of wanting him. It was mutual, but the pull wasn’t strong enough to outshine the reasons we shouldn’t. Not for him, at least.

“What does she look like?” I asked instead of giving voice to any of the thoughts swirling around my head.

“She?” he repeated with a hint of fond amusement. “Did you name her too?”

I huffed out a laugh and turned the car towards the North Circular. “Pending. But feels like she’s at maybe a quarter or so right now.” I hadn’t been fully drained after the last site in Finsbury, and I’d had a day to recover. But without the replenishment circle, my reserves recovered much more slowly.

“It’s…” Liam squinted against the sun, still high in the sky now that we were nearing the longest days of the year. “Right now, in this light, it’s hard to even make her out—when you’re at full capacity, it’s like a blinding halo that surrounds you.”

“Good thing you can turn it off,” I told him. “The magic vision. Or you’d be walking around with sunglasses at nighttime.”

The way he’d explained it to me, seeing magic was like sorting through layers of reality, eyes adjusting to a certain…dimension. Or something. It required no effort on his side, didn’t drain him the way using his other powers did, was more like a state of mind than an active effort.

“Yeah, I’d be quite the rockstar.” He snorted, then shot me a curious look. “Without the circle, how long does it take you to recover?”

“Another five days, maybe?” I slowed down to pass a cyclist—bit of a dangerous spot here. “It’ll be longer this time, what with spending a few days away from London. More of a trickle.”

It was no secret that in the UK, magic centred around London. Oh, there were other, smaller pockets—Salisbury and Inverness, Wells and Plymouth. But they all paled compared to the size and might of London.

“Does it make you feel vulnerable when you’re low on magic?” Liam asked. “Low by your standards, that is. Not by most people’s.”

“A little, yeah. A little more tired, too.” I pursed my mouth. “But it’s not the Wild West anymore, is it? The Ashtons aren’t going to suddenly jump out from behind a bush and hit me with their worst.”

“What is it with your family and them anyway? I’ve heard rumours, but it’s like you’re reenacting a Shakespeare play.” Wry amusement coloured his tone. “‘Two households, both alike in dignity…’ I used to consider us rivals, you know? Your family and mine, except we’re hardly a match for you.”

I slid him a grin. “One, pretty sure that was all in your head. You and I were”—are—“complicated, yeah, but it hardly counted as an ancient grudge. And two, I think we are pretty well-matched.”

“Are we.” Not quite a question, more a contemplative murmur that didn’t need a response.

“As for the Ashtons…” I braked for a red light. “Honestly, no one really remembers. I think someone slighted someone ages ago, and it all just escalated because everyone’s too bloody proud for their own good.”

“And here I thought it was some thrilling kind of tale,” Liam said wryly.

“Sorry to disappoint.” I lifted a shoulder, and he made an amused noise in response.

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