—The lack of taste pains me—
—I heard Jordan’s getting life-sized ice sculptures of the two of you made…—
—Kill me now—
—By the way…did you know your celebration is on Krampus night? —
—Gods, I would give anything to have Jordan eaten by a Christmas Troll—
—Lol. Is it too late to suggest a troll-theme for your party?—
—Not funny and not helping, Theodora—
Trying to keep my face straight, I bury myself into the depths of Havengard bylaws from the Eighteenth Century.
I’m halfway through a particularly dry passage about property rights for non-magical residents when Cosmo’s phone starts playing some song about nightmares.
“It’s father, I’ve got to take this.” He pushes back his chair and heads out of the library.
Jordan slams her notebook shut, startling me. “I guess I’ll have to ask your opinion. crystal or silver trim on the napkins?”
I blink, making sure my mask is in place. “I think silver would be nice, it’s so wintery.”
“Crystal it is then,” Jordan smirks.
Gods.
“Sounds lovely, and lumpy.”
Cosmo comes back to the table, his face is completely blank.
“Crystal trim for the napkins, don’t you think, darling?” Jordan says, pushing a catalogue towards him. “Silver is so teenage prom.”
He doesn’t reply.
“Cosmo, are you listening to me?”
“What? Sorry, yes. Whatever you think’s best.”
The next second I feel Cosmo in my head.
—Theodora…listen—
Cosmo’s mental voice doesn't match his neutral expression.
—My father is losing his mind. They think the children were incinerated in the fire—
I keep my eyes fixed on the page. —That’s good isn’t it?—
—Yes and no. He’s on a rampage for more kids…they're planning an 'emergency recruitment' sweep through the poor northern cities—
A wave of nausea hits me. Our victory at the weekend just turned into a death sentence for more families.
—We have to tell Bea. Get the Unbound to hide all the kids in the area—
—I know. I’ll get Max and Duncan online to send out a warning—
—Good. Do it—
