“Fanor.”
She strode the last couple of feet to me and actually smiled. “Nice seeing you, Evira.” Then she even gave a bow.
Huh.She was usually much more no-nonsense—and harsh. Unfortunately for her, that didn’t do so well when slamming up against the same in me. While I wanted Torvek happy and to embrace his love for her, it didn’t mean I was particularly fond of her. She was good for him, though. Their mentality and approach to things were very similar and melded well together. Just her with most other people… not the best.
So it was definitely strange that here she was smiling, bowing, and playing nice.
The fact she was here at all was… unheard of.
“Is everything all right?” I asked, pushing things along. “Also, as you well know, I’m not Crown Heir anymore. Torvek is.”
Was I being a little icy—pun definitely intended? No. It was warranted. The way things had been going down between her and T didn’t sit well with me. I hadn’t gotten involved, but now she’d come to my doorstep, so all bets were technically off, weren’t they?
She flicked her wild hair. “Please. It’s ridiculous.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s been obvious for ages. You need to be Joint Crown Heirs. Torvek has the patience for the more… frustrating aspects of political intricacies and the roadblocks in the Dracoryn Realm, but he doesn’t have the charm and no-nonsense nature that you bring to the role. Both are needed. Both would be a fantastic formation.”
Huh.That was… insightful.
She stepped right up to me. “Look, can we talk?” She gestured around the busy quad. “Somewhere without supernatural hearing all over the fucking place?”
“If you’re here about Torvek—”
“Really? You?”
“What?”
“Assuming a woman is here to only talk about a man?”
I scoffed. “Hilarious. I’m merely reading the context—and you. Our only connection is Torvek. There’s no other reason why you’d be here, why you’d come to me. Although, making that accusation, knowing it would fire me up, is an interesting choice.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat. I didn’t need them free. I wasn’t threatened by her. “Your purpose?”
“First, we require privacy. A warded space withauditory reductionin effect.”
“Fine.” I held out my hand.
She took it and then I teleported us straight into my dorm room, erecting a sweepingauditory reductionspell the moment we materialized.
“Nice setup you’ve got here,” she said, taking in my combat trophies—of course—then running a hand over the iced coffee table in the seating area, before she took a seat without prompting on my snowy white couch.
I slid into the armchair opposite. “Well? You were saying?”
A smile spread over her face. A genuine one. “I’m sick of it, too.”
“Sick of what?”
“Power touched but not able to be wielded efficiently, pathetic choices made by fools. Your father and grandmother are obviously exceptions, but their more diplomatic way of reigning comes with many they must answer to, and appease.”
“Hold on. You’re here about Exalt?”
“Yes.”
“This is unexpected.”
“I know I’m not technically an heir. At least not to a throne or a coven, or whatever else. But I am in a position of power—touching power but also controlled by the level above it through my father and those connected to him politically. As Warrior Supreme, my father is also revered much like royalty, has high-level influence and standing.”
“The technicality of the heir situation isn’t a deal-breaker for Exalt membership.”
