“And reparations will have to be made,” I say. “Large, public displays of philanthropy.”
Isla opens her mouth again, but I keep going.
“Every stolen piece of art,” I say. Then, more darkly, “Every child sold into slavery at your father’s behest.”
Isla presses a shaky hand over her mouth.
“I’m not the only one watching,” I say. “And I can’t guarantee that I can control what this other party will do if they aren’t satisfied that the rest of you aren’t involved. Though the wanton destruction of anything accessible through tech comes to mind.”
Isla meeps in terror behind her hand.
I try to soften my tone. “The realm needs stability. What else are we here for, born into all of this … the money and the titles … but to protect everyone else? That’s why I’ve come to you, Isla. That’s why I’m asking you to accept responsibility. To do what needs to be done.”
Isla’s hand falls to the table. Her eyes, wide and filled with tears, lock to mine. “You’re right, Mirth.”
Noah tugs his phone out of his pocket. He presses a single button, then holds it to his ear. He then clearly interruptswhoever answers. “We need you. Meet us in the Racetrack box. It’s easier for you to come to us and … easier to secure that space.” He pauses for a moment, his tone softening. “I’m sorry. We’ll explain. Come now. Don’t speak to anyone else.” He hangs up the call.
“But …” Isla’s hand flutters over the silver cutlery set to the side of her plate, fingertips plucking at the edges of the napkin there. Her eyes are an even brighter blue than usual, flushed with unshed tears. “I’m not … I’m not certain I’m absorbing this …”
Noah takes her hand, leaning close enough to press it to his chest, over his heart. Her gaze crashes into his. But instead of completely melting down, Isla’s back straightens, and her breathing steadies.
The connection between them is real. No matter that it’s been forced along by the matchmaking event and Lord Merton’s attempt to woo me into his bond group through the younger generation.
Isla’s thumb brushes against Noah’s shirt, offering comfort even while taking it.
Then she abruptly leans into her chosen — as if something has just become perfectly clear to her. Her voice is low but fierce. “I’ll fight, Noah. You’re not … you’re not just a prize to me, to be wooed or won or even bought. I’m … I might be overwhelmed, but if this is who my father truly is …”
“It’s okay,” Noah says soothingly.
“It’s not okay!” Isla snaps. “None of this is okay. What if Mirth never found out any of this? What if she did but never came to us? I would have just continued to … to … I’m not my father! If this is who he truly is … I’m … sickened … and …”
“I know.”
“You don’t, really. We barely know each other. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right, Noah. I don’t give a fuck what color your eyes are or what power you wield. I love you.”
Noah’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open slightly.
“I love you, Noah,” Isla repeats firmly. Then, seeming to realize that fierce declarations of love are a little out of place in the clubhouse dining room, she tilts her head prettily to the side and smirks. “And not just because of that thing you do so well with your tongue.”
Noah laughs, still slightly overwhelmed. “Well, keep that on the list because it’s also a favorite of mine.”
With a blush warming her cheeks and still quietly smirking, Isla angles her gaze back to catch mine. “May I ask for … this is going to sound like I’m doubting you, but I’m not.”
“Proof?” I offer her a smirk of my own. “How much do you want?”
“All of it.”
“That can be arranged,” Christoph says. “As quickly as you need. Likely on a secure hard drive, by courier. Mirth cannot be further involved.”
I chafe at that last bit, but he isn’t wrong. No matter what I did last night to secure the children, my position doesn’t really allow for such vigilante justice. I’m supposed to forever be a neutral unifying figurehead, in fact.
“Understandably,” Isla says.
“We’ll be in the Merton box,” Noah says, glancing at his phone screen. “Please give your contact my details. If I’m understanding the dynamics here, I might be the best point of contact for them?”
Awry to awry, he means. Noah knows enough about the Möbius Group to know that our contact is very likely awry. He’s right, of course. I don’t need to see Coda’s purple eyes to know that definitively myself.
“Thank you, Mirth.” Isla, hesitating for just a moment and giving me plenty of time to pull away, touches the back of my hand lightly. “Thank you for trusting us, trusting me.”
