“Keep it down!” Gianna calls after me.
“Not a chance,” I mutter, a smile playing on my lips.
When I slip back into the bathroom, I find Leigh lounging in the tub with her eyes open and wearing a troubled expression. Seeing her unease, my brows dip. Not again. I quietly undress and slide into the warm water behind her. I wrap my arms around her waist to help ease her burdens.
“Hey,” she murmurs.
I kiss her temple. “I brought cookies.”
Leigh chuckles softly. “I’m not hungry.”
“Fine, more for me.”
As we sit in the warm water, surrounded by bubbles, I’m struck by how perfect this moment is. Despite the challenges we face and the threats looming on the horizon, right here, right now, we have this.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect it.
“Leigh,” I whisper, my lips close to her ear.
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
For a moment, she’s silent. Did I overstep? I couldn’t keep it bottled up. I love her. I am in love with her. It’s scary as hell, but what’s more frightening is when she turns around and kisses me, she doesn’t say it back.
The following evening,surrounded by Council ministerial aides, I stand in the glass-encased elevator as it ascends through the heart of the capitol building. As we breach the cloud layer, I press my hands against the cold, tempered glass, my stomach fluttering with anticipation. The nearest aide murmurs, “This way, Your Majesty.”
We glide down the polished hallway, my reflection shimmering on its topaz surface. The massive crystalline doors open to reveal a soundproof room suspended in the heavens. Windows on all sides of the Council chamber offer a breathtaking vista of swirling mist and inky darkness. To accommodate Vyvyan and Vane’s aversion to the sun, the meeting has been moved to nighttime, and artificial light illuminates the chamber. With its ring of sixteen cushioned chairs, the sterile space feels more diminutive than I had imagined. As I enter, the ghosts whisper in my ears, telling me where to sit, how to behave, and when to smile. But I ignore their chatter.
I deliberately arrived at the Council chamber early with a calculated purpose: winning over key councilors before the session begins. My proposals are controversial, starting with the closure of asylums and the dismantling of the outdated Labor Laws, but I know which Council members might be persuaded.Last night, Wilder advised me to maintain peace with Janus, but I won’t let her resistance delay these reforms while more witches suffer. I can secure their support before the formal vote by sharing these plans with the more progressive councilors. Even if Janus maintains her opposition, I’ll have built a coalition strong enough to push through these essential changes. Let her and her conservative faction object. I only need enough votes to pass these reforms, not universal approval.
More Council members file in, including Keris Telfour, who is on my list to talk to, but Bennett approaches first. His navy suit makes his blond hair gleam like spun gold, and his expression barely conceals a sense of urgency when he speaks. “Leigh,” he says. “We need to talk about Stellan.”
“Can it wait?” I ask as Keris crosses the room to the water station in the back.
“Did you read the latest article inThe Tower Tribune?” Bennett asks.
A pit forms inside me. “I did.”
Bennett’s pain is written across his face. Stellan’s article exposed Hammond’s father’s crimes, and the Bishop family’s hasty departure from town only twists the knife deeper. While I feel for him, my window of opportunity is shrinking. I need to reach Keris before the meeting starts in ten minutes.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” I offer quickly. “Hammond was . . . complicated. And I know the Bishops were your friends.” I shift my weight, torn between showing proper sympathy and pursuing my goal. The reforms can’t wait, but neither can I completely ignore Bennett’s obvious distress.
“Huh? I am not talking about Hammond,” Bennett says. “I am worried that Stellan might be taking things too far. The photos he posted should never have seen the light of day.” Bennett’s phone then chirps incessantly.
I pause, not recalling any photos accompanying Evander Bishop’s grave robbing article. “What photos?”
“The ones of an inebriated Keris at the Little Death with a curvy brunette,” Bennett whispers.
“Keris Telfour?” I ask. His phone dings again. “Someone’s trying to reach you.”
Bennett shrugs. “It’s my grandmother.”
He turns the phone over, presumably to silence it, but not before I glimpse the screen. The name that flashes isn’tGrandmother, as he claims. It’s Corvina. My eyes narrow. The only Corvina I know is my brother’s ex, Corvina Miller. She’s a Nebula Cosmic Witch and has been out of the picture since their breakup two years ago. Fynn dumped her for Gianna, and she didn’t take it well.
I squint at Bennett, recalling how we had moved past the lies after he went public about his time with Eos. He had given a story to the newspapers, claiming that his grandmother, Edith, a former councilwoman, had dementia and was unfit for office. This was done to take her spot on the Council, which Eos orchestrated to ensure Bennett’s vote for Elio in the upcoming election. Even though Edith and the public had forgiven him for his crimes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that old habits die hard. Even if he committed such crimes to help me.
“Oh, how is Edith?” I ask, giving him a chance to come clean.
