Page 34 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

Ian. I sighed. He was who I should be thinking about, not Bez the manipulative vengeful Diabolic devil.

“Can you stop doing that?” I muttered, glaring as Bez sucked the syrup off his bratwurst.

“What?” He grinned. “I like to lick off all the sticky sweet parts before enjoying thethickmeat.”

I huffed and pressed my hand to my bouncing knee. He wouldn’t get a reaction out of me. He wouldn’t trick me. I refused to play his mind games. I was mature, intelligent, and saw right through whatever weird agenda he had planned.

“Can you both pay attention?” Al asked with his stern expression—a face he rarely brought out, and something ingrained from following our mother’s teachings on how to command an audience.

“Sir, yes sir.” Bez swallowed the brat in one gulp. “I do love that assertiveness the Alden’s possess. Well, some.”

Ugh. If Al had accidentally formed a Diabolic binding—which he’d never do, because he was the golden boy—he’d have figured out how commands worked. Hell, he’d probably have convinced the chancellors during the tribunal meeting that Bez would make a great addition to the Collective. The two of them would likely hit the town every night, cruising for dates and succeeding on every mission that came their way. That was Al, though. He did everything right.

“I am listening.” I hunched, averting my gaze from either of them, poking my runny scrambled eggs. I’d asked for sunny side up. It seemed no one took what I said or asked for seriously, not even our server.

“It’s my belief Chancellor Driscoll had a hand in this.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Before the attack on the Magus Estate, my squad was issued an order to investigate a strange disturbance in the Dimensional Atrium. An ill convenience since we’re the closest responding sentinel squad outside those within the estate.”

They were also the fastest and strongest sentinel squad. Mother ensured Al had the best team at all times so he’d rise to the top of the ranks. Not that he needed assistance. He ranked second only to her in the sentinel regiment and that came despite him fighting against his place at the top. But at the end of the day, no one really defied Chancellor Alden and her plans for the family legacy. Well, no one who wanted to be successful.

“What infiltrated the Atrium?” I asked, wondering if perhaps this Mythic and misfit mage attack had more to do with the restrictions on the Dimensional Atrium than the Magus Estate. So much power came from the Fae realms, and they shared only the slightest bit of it with the Collective. Aside from Mercury’s Marketplace, the Mythic Council headquarters, and a few select mage-appointed locations, there were few spots Mythics had magical reign in. Most weren’t even allowed inside the Atrium; only those with clearance from the Fae and Collective could enter the Dimensional Atrium.

“It was a baby goblin that’d somehow slipped security,” Al said.

“Adorable,” Bez said.

“It’s believed the portal was triggered by the Mythic signature of the goblin, and his lack of magic didn’t register a need to block access.”

It didn’t explain why Al suspected the vanguard chancellor.

“I mean, anyone could’ve wrangled a baby goblin out of the Atrium.” Al gestured toward me. “Even um…other apprentices would’ve managed.”

“I don’t see how that makes Driscoll a suspect.” I spooned the soupy eggs. Yuck. I grabbed the extra crunchy toast instead which, of course, spilled crumbs all over my shirt.

“It does when Driscoll practically forced Mom’s hand to get me away from my outpost and into the Atrium where the portals connected to the estate suddenly went on the fritz.”

“Since when does she take orders from Chancellor Driscoll?”

“Since Remington explained their inability to play nice was affecting the Collective.” Al bit down on his sloppy, extra thick meat sandwich without so much as a drop of grease smudging his cheek. Gah—he even ate better than everyone else. “Ironically, had Mom ignored Remington’s suggestion, he might still be alive.”

“Well, one point for mommy dearest.” Bez raised a mimosa. “Maybe there’s something to like about her, after all.”

“Okay.” I shrugged, ignoring Bez’s antics because, quite honestly, that was the only way I’d survive being bound to him. “Say Driscoll had a role in this. Why setmeup?”

“No idea, but I think it’s meant to hurt our mother.”

“More like help her,” I scoffed. “Sorry. Just not seeing the great Chancellor Alden all that upset by this outcome.”

“It hurt her standing among the other chancellors, with an Alden under suspicion.”

“Great.” I took one of Bez’s mimosas.

“Hey!”

I downed it, paying his protests of thievery no attention. If I somehow managed to survive the regiments’ pursuit, the charges of treason, and the devil latched to my side, I’d have to contend with my mother’s rage for years. She’d hold whatever social standing lost because I’d ‘allowed myself to be framed.’ I sighed. I could hear the cutting comments during family events already.

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