Maeve’s mouth fell open. Abraxas’ attention flew from Hugo and his wide eyes landed on Reeve. A wicked smile at her cousin’s lips.
“I find it hard to believe such crass words have warmed your bed for the last hundred years,” said Maeve.
“Why don’t you tell me in the morning?”
He was so bold, so brazen, so ridiculous, that she laughed.
She tried to find a smart remark to wipe his smirk off his face, but she knew one would not come, and The High Lord was too confident to be swayed by any blow.
“Don’t play the game if you’re going to get your feelings hurt,” said Reeve. “I will always win. I have centuries of a perfected quick wit.”
“More like you’re a perfected prick,” muttered Maeve.
“I have that too,” said Reeve with a wink.
“Set yourself up for that one, cousin,” said Abraxas.
Reeve smiled at him cunningly. Abraxas blushed.
“Fine,” she said. “I yield.”
Reeve and Eryx shared a triumphant toast, slammed their goblets on the bar, and downed their drinks.
She snagged her father’s drink from across the bar. “He who knows all,” she said and turned to Abraxas, “do you know where my father ran off to earlier?”
Abraxas swallowed his drink hard and nodded.
“He’s in his study with the Orator,” said Abraxas.
Maeve thanked him and made her way out of the dining hall.
She rounded up the stairs and headed towards her father’s study. Maeve knocked lightly on the door.
“Enter,” said Ambrose.
Maeve pushed open the door. Her Father and Orator Moon were seated in two large armchairs, smoking cigars.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Maeve.
“Not at all, dear,” said Moon. “I actually have a message for you.”
Maeve sat down with them.
“Let me guess, it’s from Daniel Rodriguez,” said Maeve.
Ambrose laughed, and Moon chuckled.
“Yes,” said Moon. “He said he’d give you Junior Undersecretary.”
“Oh-ho!” Cheered Ambrose.
Maeve smiled. “How many times do I have to decline this job?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone turning down a Junior Undersecretary position right out of school,” laughed Moon. “Merlin’s beard, child, what position could you possibly want? I know you must hate it in the Bellator Sector, all that rivalry isn’t good for the soul.”
“My father’s job,” said Maeve, without missing a beat. “Or perhaps yours.”
Moon choked on his cigar, and Ambrose smirked subtly, pride in his eyes.
