"Lisa." I keep my voice low and see her pupils dilate.
I’m not so arrogant that I know it’s just me, or my body, she wants. It’s my Drakeward name.
She’s a power-hungry bitch turned on by the proximity to the throne.
“Very good, Lisa. So, I want Donovan and Wes Hart in the first wave of recruits. They’re Elite, and frankly, excluding Dr. Hart’s sons is unthinkable.” Before she can say anything, I nod my head. “Yes, I know Wes is currently incapacitated, but we’ll start with Donovan. Next, I want Maximus Larsen.”
“Larsen?” she frowns. “But his connection to the Conclave is tangential at best.”
“Then you understand exactly,” I reply, giving her a fake-approving look. “I knew you would. That connection to Kormovia must be strengthened. Of course, we will also have to have Wilson. Father wants me to keep an especially sharp eye on her.”
“Theo Wilson,” Gimble splutters. “But she’s an AUA.”
“Obviously,” I sigh. “So it’s not like she’ll learn anything in the meetings, but I can’t afford to have her wandering around unsupervised.”
Gimble doesn’t look convinced. “Let’s invite Troy Farrington. His family is close to the Conclave’s internal security wing.”
“He’s an idiot, hardly ascension material.” I think quickly. She’s not going to be satisfied with just Max and Dono. “What about Naomi Watson? She’s smart and her family have ties to the Conclave. She’ll be loyal. So, with me, it will be four cadets for the first troop, plus Wilson. Agreed?”
She smiles, a little sharply. “Your father expressly told me to make the first cohort half a dozen strong. I want François de Vaux. Either him or Jordan.”
Gods.
“François is just a freshman, there’s plenty of time for him to join later and I don’t want my fiancee learning innate magic yet.”
“So, Farrington?”
I’m about to agree to Troy the imbecile, when a notion I don’t quite understand takes me. “No. de Vaux then. We’ll see what François is really made of.”
Yes, choosing to have Thomas Crankshawe’s son in our little troop is a risk, but as they say, keep your friends close.
And your enemies closer.
Talking of which.
Gimble steps forward again, this time reaching out to straighten my jacket. "We’re going to do great things, Cosmo. We’re going to forge a generation that doesn't just follow the Conclave—theyarethe next wave of Conclave." She looks up at me, her hand lingering on my chest. "I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“First meeting on Friday, then?” I say, catching her hand and slowly, deliberately moving it away. “Book the Electus Tower meeting room.”
I turn and walk out. As soon as the door shuts, I let out a breath.
I’m not sure if this little Cadet troop bullshit will give us any advantages, but at least I’ve got some control.
Heading back to Electus, I decide to call on Max and Dono.
Irritating, loud and messy as they are, I miss my roommates.
Dono and Max’s new place is exactly as I expected: chaos. There’s a pile of stinking fateball jerseys in the corner and the air smells faintly of stale pizza.
Donovan is sprawled across the couch, tossing a tennis ball against the wall with rhythmic, annoying thuds. Max is hunched over a tablet, his brow furrowed as he scrolls through something—who the fuck knows what.
They both freeze when I walk in.
“Cos?" Donovan sits up, the tennis ball rolling unheeded under his coffee table. “Nice look. Are you cos-playing as Max? Cos-playing. Ha-ha.”
“Fuck off,” I say, pulling out the extra chair and turning it backward to sit. "I’ve just come from a meeting with Lovely Lisa."
“Who the fuck is Lisa?" Max looks up, his eyes narrowing.
