Page 11 of Two Who Live On

“Consider me at your service.”

“Oh, please lead with that when you see Milo tonight.”

I rolled my eyes as Chanelle flashed her embroidered ticket that the attendant cross-checked with an enchantment before allowing us to pass. The hallway leading to the event was well-lit, with doors blocked off and people trickling through on their way inside. My stomach dropped once we walked into the ballroom. I’d attended dozens of these events at Cerberus, among other guilds in the city, but they rarely brought out their best when hosting academy staff or meet and greets for potential student interns. Everyone was dressed so finely, even Chanelle barely looked the part. I tugged at my loose tie, hoping to cover the stain on my wrinkled dress shirt. I should’ve grabbed a blazer. Bought one before coming. What was I thinking?

“Good luck, lover boy.” Chanelle winked. “If you don’t manage to pry Evergreen from his adoring audience, you can circle back and find me.”

“You’re leaving me already?” A tremble nearly creaked from my throat. These types of parties were aggravating, but they didn’t make me anxious. Not like this. Why was I here?

“Aw. You miss me already. But there are some lovely enchanters I need to felicitate.” Chanelle rubbed my shoulder, her confidence in conversation lingered in my thoughts, and I leapt at it to compose myself. Perhaps her way to assist me or pass along some flirty pursuit she intended on ditching me for. Either way, I held onto that confidence while exploring the ballroom.

The lighting stung my eyes; between the sparkling glasses and shimmering outfits, there wasn’t relief in any direction. Making myway through the crowd, it didn’t take long to find Milo. He stood next to Enchanter Campbell at the edge of the ballroom floor, facing away from me.This place was so vast, swimming with countless thoughts, and a part of me was desperate to throw myself into someone’s mind to escape my own apprehension.

“I can’t believe Cerberus threw together this premature celebration when they should be prioritizing resources toward the growing demonic energy striking the city.”

I shook away the guest’s annoyance for Enchanter Evergreen. Well, secondhand annoyance that was actually disgust for lavish events, a sentiment I understood. Still, they were a day late on the news since Milo had already dealt with the surge in demonic energy during our not-so-successful art district date. He’d eradicated all traces of that horde.

Others in attendance fawned over Milo, making me realize no matter how anxious I was to be here, I needed to be here in my own head—not theirs. I inched closer to Milo and Campbell, eyeing the dancefloor no one used. Guests casually walked across it, but no one joined in while the band played a mellow instrumental tune. Still, many minds were eager for when the event would kick off.

I cleared my throat, hesitating when Milo turned. This was probably a mistake. His bright blue eyes noticed a cater waiter’s tray tilting ever so as he weaved past a guest who’d flung their arm while gesturing. He caught the tray, smiled, and grabbed a champagne flute to hand to Enchanter Campbell.

“I suppose I have you to thank for the lovely rumors about our rekindled love story.” Milo’s half expression from his turned face didn’t carry an ounce of concern or annoyance, but I’d always seen deeper than what he revealed to the world. “Not exactly the detour I want to take for her success or my happiness, but it’s an easy enough roadblock. Maybe. Just have to steer this in the right direction, which I wish would present itself.”

“It’s your own fault for having a winning personality.” Enchanter Campbell sipped her glass of champagne. “If it costs you a few casual one nights, oh well.”

“Ouch.” Milo chuckled. “Is that really all you think I do these days?”

“I haven’t seen someone serious on your arm in almost three years,” Enchanter Campbell said. “You tell me, Mr. Annoyingly Dashing.”

I grabbed a champagne flute off a passing tray and gulped in unison with Enchanter Campbell, struggling to work up the nerve to interrupt their conversation. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be crashing Milo’s event because of some impulsive feeling. This was his night and should stay that way. If anything, I should leave, talk to him tomorrow and explain in a proper adult way how I wanted to invest in a more public and committed relationship. My face burned.

“I’ve had serious relationships since you,” Milo said. “More serious, in fact.”

“Of course. Look, just go with it. The board thinks I’m too rigid,” Enchanter Campbell said. “Me.”

“Impossible.” Milo didn’t even attempt to hide his sass.

“Shut up,” Campbell continued. “Overthrowing a capitalist pig who uses his wealth to monopolize guilds and run illegal operations isn’t enough to demonstrate leadership qualities. Apparently, I need to do all that with a pretty smile, an iron fist, and a dainty hand accompanied by someone more charming.”

Enchanter Campbell referenced Tara’s father, Tobias Whitlock. Between the news and Milo’s occasional surface thoughts, I knew there was a real power struggle between his hold over many guilds while he fought off allegations, maintaining his stock holdings, authority, and ruthlessness.

“I can think of a hundred more charming men that’d look fantastic on your absolutely unrigid appearance,” Milo said.

“Save the sarcasm. Had you left the whole operation to me instead of putting your narcissistic face all over, I might’ve swayed the board members into making me the permanent guild master. Instead, some are on the fence, believing you’d make a better fit.”

“Yuck.” Milo grabbed his own champagne flute and washed away the repulsed thought of him taking on a real leadership role. “I’d run Cerberus into the ground if someone gave me actual authority.”

“That’s what I said. Your off-the-books charitable cases already exceed your department’s funding.” She raised a hand to cut him off. “And save the PR speech; your fan-fuck board members already said it all.”

“I’m sorry.”

I balled my fists. Milo was seriously debating her proposal, weighing pros and cons like it was a possible investment.

“It won’t be so bad. After all, we weren’t terrible together,” Enchanter Campbell said. “And nothing’s going to happen. Maybe a few lunches, a work dinner when the cameras are rolling. You’re always better in front of an audience.”

Anxiety consumed Milo. I waded through the slosh rolling off him and brushed past guests who walked between us. He searched for ways to decline Enchanter Campbell’s proposition without offending or affecting potential futures. I couldn’t glean what he saw, but he picked apart his next words very carefully as if one faulty phrase would topple over what he’d worked so hard for.

“How’s Dorian going to handle this?”

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