“Adam rescued me,” he says, with a sincerity so complete that the whole table leans in slightly. “I was in a very dark place.” He pauses. “Quite literally, as it happens.” A small, private smile, directed at me across the table. “He held out his hand and pulled me out of it.”
I reach for my water glass and take a very long sip.
“That’s so romantic,” breathes my aunt.
“He’s remarkable,” says Hex warmly, and his red eyes catch mine for just a second. “I keep telling him so.”
My mother is watching me with an expression I don’t know how to interpret. Something complicated is happening behind her eyes.
The food comes out. My mother has cooked a roast, because she always cooks a roast for important occasions, and it’s genuinely excellent, because whatever her faults she’s a brilliant cook. Hex navigates his cutlery with the careful focus of someone who has never used cutlery before but is not going to admit it. He picks up the wrong fork first. He corrects himself smoothly. He knocks his knife off the table and catches it before it hits the floor with a reflexive grab that is slightly too fast to be normal.
Nobody notices. They’re all too busy listening to him.
Because Hex talks, and when he talks people listen, and the things he says hover right on the beautiful, maddening edge of outrageous.
My uncle starts talking about his golf club membership, with the air of a man unveiling a masterpiece. Hex listens attentively. “Marvellous,” he says. “I find golf terribly relaxing. Though I prefer the courses in Scotland. The ones down here feel a little tame.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “I suppose once you’ve played the private island course outside Reykjavik, everything else is rather a step down.”
My uncle blinks. “There’s a private island course outside Reykjavik?”
“Very exclusive,” says Hex pleasantly. “You’d have heard of it if you were on the list.”
James starts talking about his promotion. The new salary bracket. The corner office. Hex listens with every appearance of warm interest. “That’s wonderful,” he says. “Your first corner office is always special. I remember mine.” A pause. “Well. My first building, really. The office came with it.”
“Your first building?” says James.
Hex looks mildly embarrassed, which is a remarkable thing to witness on a stranger’s face animated by a shadow prince. “I own several now. One does accumulate them. You’ll find that happens, in time.”
James opens his mouth. Closes it.
My father, who has been quiet most of the evening in the way my father is always quiet when there are strong personalities in the room, asks Hex what his family background is. My mother shoots my father a look that means she wanted to ask this but didn’t want to be seen asking it.
Hex considers the question with great seriousness. “Old money,” he says finally. “Very old. The family goes back further than most records do, really. We stopped counting generations some time ago.” He smiles. “It gets confusing.”
“Where are they based?” my mother asks.
“Oh, all over,” says Hex vaguely. “We have a primary residence, but it’s not somewhere most people visit. Rather difficult to get to.” He glances at me sideways. “Isn’t it, Adam.”
“Incredibly difficult,” I agree faintly.
“You must come from good stock though,” says my aunt, looking Hex over with approval. “You’re very handsome.”
“Thank you.” Hex looks genuinely delighted. “I’ve worked hard on it.”
There is a brief silence around the table as everyone tries to work out if that was a joke.
I take a very large bite of roast potato.
It goes on like this. Course after course. My mother tops up Hex’s wine, and he accepts it with grace and drinks approximately none of it, which I only notice because I’m watching him extremely carefully. He compliments the food with an enthusiasm that is almost too much and somehow lands just on the right side of charming. He asks my aunt about her garden with genuine curiosity, and she talks about it for ten minutes while he listens as if she is saying something fascinating.
And then, gently, precisely, he turns back to my mother.
“You must be very proud of Adam,” he says.
My mother pauses. “Of course,” she says, in the tone of someone who has been slightly caught off guard.
“He’s extraordinary,” Hex says simply. “I’m sure you know that.”
My face is on fire. I stare at my plate.
