by K. M. Shea
I was starting to attract some attention, but I didn’t care. This was stupid—how could Elite Bellus sweat over my personal life when I met Killian BECAUSE OF A COUP ON MY HOUSE?
“Another thing.” I held up a finger, my smile more savage now. “Don’t you try to give me this ‘I’m concerned for you’ stuff. Neither you nor anyone among the Houses cared enough about me to see if I was even okay until I came in here with Killian, because it finally occurred to you that in your rejection of me you might have given him a foothold in wizard politics. He’s manipulative, but you are obviously just as bad!”
I was pretty sure I’d just bid my opportunity to ask for help a very permanent farewell, but I was so mad I couldn’t see straight.
I mean, really? Was he really going to try and ‘warn’ me when the entire community was so set against me—or so selfish they just didn’t care?
Adept Bellus appeared, a breath of fresh air with her kind smile. “Darling,” she said. “Why are you upsetting Adept Medeis?” Her smile turned apologetic when she turned to me. “Please forgive him, Adept Medeis. His heart is in the right place, but he can be blind at times. I’m sorry for any careless words he might have spoken.”
Elite Bellus stared at his wineglass for a moment, then looked at his wife. “I think I made some improper assumptions and gravely misread the situation.”
“My love,” Adept Bellus smoothly said. “You weren’t even looking in the same direction as the situation.”
Elite Bellus looked past me and paled slightly. “Ah.”
Curious, I twisted around.
Killian was on the other side of the room, but his eyes were almost pitch black as he stared at us. I don’t know that he heard exactly what I had said—there were so many people crammed into the room that even though I had shocked the gossips around me into silence, the rest of the ballroom buzzed with conversation and laughter.
But he must have realized I was upset, because he narrowed his eyes and took a step in my direction.
Shoot! Our act was going to fall to pieces if politics became the main point, or people thought he was using me. I had to stop him.
I gave him my sappiest smile, touched my fingers to my lips, and threw him a kiss.
Killian stared at me—I think he thought I had reached a new level of stupidity.
I batted my eyelashes and emphasized my grin.
His expression finally broke, and he laughed. I couldn’t hear it, but the way he tipped his head back was an undeniable tell.
Phew. Danger over. Relieved, I turned back to Elite Bellus, wondering how I was going to clean up this mess.
Adept Bellus elbowed her husband several times.
He bowed to me. “Adept Medeis, I apologize,” he said. “It was my error. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this old man, and perhaps wipe this conversation from your memory.”
I awkwardly cleared my throat. “I have to give my own apology—I perhaps was…overly blunt and curt with you.”
The Elite shook his head. “You pointed out the fault in my thinking. Thank you.”
“Excellent.” Adept Bellus smiled, her charm almost dazzling. “With that ugly incident behind us, perhaps you could tell us a little more about the situation with House Medeis? I haven’t heard all the details, but it has become clear to me that was a mistake.”
I guardedly explained it to them—reciting how I had fled and gone to Killian. I touched briefly on the inaction of my allies, and on the subject of my sealed magic, before I presented the crux of the issue: my position as Adept.
“The Wizard Council refused to step in and officially recognize me as Adept,” I said. “They require I re-register due to the new strength of my magic. With the signet ring gone, the application is my only hope—which has put me in a dire position given that Mason is doing his best to block me.”
The Elite smoothed his goatee. “I had heard Mason was attempting to rally allies, but I think his progress has screeched to a halt. Everyone abruptly lost interest.”
“Was there any word on why?” I asked.
The Elite gazed past me, again looking at Killian. “I’m sure I have no idea,” he mildly said.
That’s a logical conclusion for him to jump to, but I know Killian isn’t helping me. So what made the change?
“I have the deed to House Medeis,” I continued. “I was the Heir, and according to my parents’ will and our traditions I am Adept of House Medeis.” I paused, my voice hitching slightly. “A part of me understood when my magical abilities were so poor, but that’s no longer the case.”
The Elite sighed. “Mason’s backers made their choice. If they tried to retreat now and let you reclaim what is rightfully yours, not only would they lose face, but their Houses would drop in esteem and trust.”
Adept Bellus set her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Could you interfere? All of this is surely against committee rules and regulations.”
“I can try,” the Elite said. “I’ll tug some strings, and I’m sure eventually I can knock something loose. The problem is that it seems time is of the essence, and as the Elite I am not a voting member of the Wizard Council, or even allowed to sit on it.”
“Any help would make a difference to me,” I said.
The Elite rubbed the back of his head. “I’ll give orders for an investigation—that much I can do. And I’ll make some calls. Unfortunately, it seems Mason planned his attack well. There aren’t many regulations on House inheritance because it’s so ingrained in our society. As a general rule, House inheritance is a House matter, and the law shouldn’t interfere.”
I tried to smile. “Even if it was believed I was too weak to make a good Adept?”
“It’s a House matter,” the Elite firmly repeated.
“It’s likely an unfortunate reflection of our society’s morale.” Adept Bellus sighed. “We are too scared about losing magic. It makes us meddle where we shouldn’t.”
“Yes,” I slowly agreed. “Thank you for the help. I appreciate it—as does my family.”
The Elite nodded. “Of course. You were right—I should have sought you out at Drake Hall once I’d heard you’d been run out.”
“I thought we agreed to forget that conversation.”
“Forgetting doesn’t remove the truth of your words. Which I ought to begin working on.” He offered out his hand. “Good luck, Adept Medeis. You’ll get your House back, and you’ll make a fine leader.”
I shook his hand. “I hope so.”
“I’m sure your relationship with His Eminence won’t hurt your chances. I’d say at least half of everyone here tonight believes you must be his one. But it seems to me that even without Killian, you’ve got the necessary fire to take back what’s yours,” he wryly said. Adept Bellus scolded him, but he ignored it and gave me a wink, clicked his heels together, and was off.
I frowned a little as I mulled over his words. The other supernaturals would think I was Killian’s one? I’d heard the phrase once or twice, but I didn’t remember any exact specifics. (Before I ended up in a mansion full of vampire housemates, I can’t say I had ever paid a lot of attention to vampire habits and politics.)
Adept Bellus shook her head as she watched her husband leave. “He is a dear man—opinionated, but still dear.”
“Yes?” I said—I wasn’t 100% sure I was supposed to even respond to that.
“Now that you’re free, I have so many people I’d like to introduce you to—or rather they would like me to introduce you to them! Come along, Adept Medeis. This way!” Adept Bellus glided off without checking after me.
I glanced back at Celestina, who grinned at me, then followed the older woman, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.
Hours passed. I talked to so many people I could no longer distinguish faces (I also ate so much I was pretty certain that if I had even one more piece of tiramisu I wasn’t going to fit in my dress anymore). It was late—past 3 AM—and with all the people crammed inside the ball
room the place had become stifling hot.
Like, I was seriously baking, and was starting to wonder if I was overheating.
“Celestina, are they serving ice water anywhere?” I peered up and down the tables of food—which were still being replenished—and tried to spy out the servers wandering around with drinks, but it seemed there were only alcoholic beverages—no cool, sweet water.
“I don’t believe so, no.” Celestina pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you want me to text Gavino and ask him to get some?”
I grimaced—I hated the idea of asking my friend to fetch something I was perfectly capable of getting. But sweat was starting to drip down my spine, and it was getting hard to breathe in the heat. “Maybe—”
“No need.” Killian appeared at my side, pressing a tall glass of ice water into my hands. He, of course, looked as cool and crisp as ever. No heat stroke for Mr. Breezy.
I took a big gulp of the water, then held the cold glass to my forehead. “You’re magic,” I mumbled, feeling a little better.
Killian took the glass from me, then captured my right wrist. “Come.”
I staggered after him, hoping he would lead me to more water. “Where are we going?”
“To cool you off.” Killian led me past the musicians and beyond a set of ridged columns, to the glass windows that lined one side of the room.
There were a few doors that opened out into a walled in garden area. The doors were already wide open—trying to get a breeze in, probably—and none of the staff protested when Killian tugged me outside.
It wasn’t much cooler outside—apparently it was still in the heat of summer in the Committee’s piece of the fae realm. But it wasn’t as oppressively hot, and there was a slight breeze. Even better, it was quiet. So quiet my ears were ringing in the silence.
I slipped past Killian and crossed the patio, hopping onto one of the cobblestone paths that led into the gardens—which were full of fragrant fae flowers, some of which glowed in the dark blanket of the night. There was a thick stone wall that stretched between the gardens and the patio of the building. I dusted it off then boosted myself onto it. The instant relief to my aching feet made me groan.
Killian gave me my water, and I sipped at it, closing my eyes when I finally heard frogs croak and crickets chirp.
Killian and Celestina exchanged a murmured conversation, then Celestina slipped past me—patting me on the shoulder as she swept by—and her gun appeared in her hands as she headed into the gardens, probably checking for any potential attackers.
Josh and Gavino remained by the patio doors, their gazes watchful as they slowly inspected the area.
“Did you make any headway with your House?” Killian asked. Even though he wore his suitcoat still, not even a bead of sweat dared to dew on his forehead. Given his usual body temperature, he was probably the coolest thing around after my ice.
“I think so.” I shook my glass, rattling the ice cubes. “I talked to the Elite about it. He said he’d start looking into it for me.” I twitched the long skirts of my dress, trying to get a little more air.
Between my natural heat as a wizard and overheating from the oven-like room, I was finding it hard to cool off. I took my last gulp of water, finishing it. “Have you talked with everyone you wanted to? Has our…relationship played its part?”
“Yes,” Killian said with great satisfaction. “Now it’s just a waiting game, to make certain the warning was received.”
“Warning?” I asked.
“It’s nothing.”
Chapter Sixteen
Hazel
I set my glass down on the stone wall with me and shrugged. I stared at Killian for a moment or two, debating the genius of my plan, before I decided I was too hot to care. I held out my arms and made a grasping motion with my hands. “Gimme.”
Killian raised an eyebrow. “You want my suitcoat?” He took a step closer, getting in my range, so I latched on to his coat and pulled him in.
“Nope. I want you.” I plastered myself against his chest as if he were a wall of ice. Instantly the cooler temperature of his body permeated the cloth of his shirt and knifed through the heat of my face and arms. I heaved a deep sigh of contentment.
“Are you using me as your personal air conditioner?” Killian’s voice sounded a little incredulous, but I couldn’t be bothered to open my eyes and check his expression.
“Yes. Ahhh, this is heaven.” I turned my head, pressing my other cheek to his chest. “It’s not fair that you get to be so cool all the time,” I grumbled into his shirt.
Killian didn’t reply, but he stepped a little closer so I didn’t have to lean precariously over and risk falling off my seat.
I don’t know how much time passed—a few seconds or a few minutes—but when I no longer felt like an inferno, I yawned. “How much longer are we staying?”
“Getting tired?” I didn’t know if it was because he was relaxing, or he’d had enough of people as well, but his ever-so-faint British accent was a little stronger than usual.
“Yeah, a little.”
“I intend to stay until dawn—but that’s expected given my position.” Killian bumped me a little as he shifted, pulling his tuxedo jacket off.
I peeled my eyes open—because, yeah, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to take his heavenly coolness away and leave me alone to bake. To my delight, once he was free of the jacket, he slid his arms down my back, the coolness of his skin seeping through his sleeves.
“You, however,” he continued, “can return home. Unless you wished to speak to anyone else?”
“Not really,” I said. “I think I’ll need the Elite’s help to change the Wizard Council’s stance.”
“Many of the wizards tend to retire from the ball around this time. You wouldn’t have much longer to speak to them anyway,” Killian noted.
“Yeah. I haven’t seen Mason,” I said.
Killian patted my back. “Did you want to see him?”
“Not really, but Felix is here, so I thought Mason would be, too. Though that would be pretty insane—how would he get an invite when he’s not the Adept?”
“Don’t doubt the pettiness of our society.” I would have thought it was a joke, except Killian’s voice was cold and grim.
I pulled back so I could crank my neck to peer up at him. “Thank you for introducing me to the Elite.”
Killian shrugged. “It would have been expected, anyway, given how closely I work with him.” He paused. “What did he say to upset you?”
“Hm?”
“Before his wife arrived, you were clearly aggravated and talking louder.”
I pressed my head against his chest to hide my face again. How much should I tell him? Or how much did he need to know? The Elite said he regretted his words, and I was sure it wasn’t anything that Killian hadn’t heard before.
“I was surprised,” Killian continued. “I knew you planned to ask him for help. For you to yell at him, I thought something must have gone wrong.”
He wasn’t going to drop it, was he? Well, I may as well summarize it—Celestina would spill everything when I left for home anyway. “He was warning me off you. His wizardly duty or something.” I leaned back so I could watch his face—or specifically the slant of his eyebrows.
“Warned you off?” Killian asked.
“You know, gave me the fatherly talk—you’re just using me, blah, blah, blah,” I said. “Although at the end he changed his mind and said I might be your one. What did he mean by that?” I asked, hoping to distract him.
Killian’s expression didn’t shift as he stared out into the gardens. “It’s what a vampire calls the person they choose forever. A particularly playful vampire might marry multiple times as they outlive their spouse, but the one comes only once in a vampire’s very long lifetime, and they love the one forever.”
“I see.” I wanted to ask how on earth Elite Bellus could even imagine Killian would ever have a one, but that seemed kind of mean to say
, so I kept my mouth shut.
“It’s practically a myth,” Killian continued. “Or a fairytale, really. Most vampires never experience it. A few Elders claim they have. However, given that they are the same Elders who are prone to skulking around their homes at night and reciting excessively long and melodramatic poetry, I can’t say I’m inclined to believe them.”
“You don’t think it’s real, then?”
Killian shrugged. “I think it is far rarer than most of my kind thinks. There is only one vampire I have met that I truly believe found his one.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Rupert.”
“Rupert?” My voice hitched up with disbelief. “Sour-puss Rupert the party-pooper?”
“Obviously, Elite Bellus was speaking foolish drabble.” Killian ignored my less-than-stellar nickname for his underling and pushed on. “But I suppose his warning is the sign of a righteous soul.”
I considered pressing the Rupert matter for a moment. But as nosy as I was, it wasn’t really my business, so I let him change the discussion topic. “You know, considering how much you like to scheme, I find it interesting you like labeling people righteous or virtuous,” I said.
“Why would that make you mad?”
“I’m not mad, I just think it says something about you.”
“I was referring to your reaction to the Elite’s warning.”
“Ooooh. Yeah.” I wondered if I could get out of answering again by mashing my face on his shirt. “Well…he was being kind of hypocritical.”
“He most likely wasn’t wrong.”
