“My co-chair of the Conclave Cadets," I reply, watching their confused expressions. “It’s Father’s new initiative. Pre-graduation Elites indoctrinated into the way of the Conclave. And I’ve just ensured that you two are the star recruits."
Max closes his laptop with a snap. “Still doesn’t explain who Lisa is.”
“Lisa is Professor Lisa Gimble.”
“Ooh, the cougar who wants your perfectly Elite man-meat?” Donovan asks.
I grimace at his description. “Yeah, she and I are ‘in charge’ of this bullshit. But if I have to do it, I want us to control the narrative.”
“Boring,” Max yawns. “I’m out.”
I slap my palm on the armrest.
“There is no ‘out’ anymore, Maximus. Don’t you understand?”
He glares at me with equal intensity. “There is always an out, asshole.”
Sure, I know how he feels but there is more to take into consideration. “Look, it’s not about us. It’s all about Theodora. We have to doanythingthat will aid her.”
Both Donovan and Maximus stop bitching and look at me perplexed. “Feniks thinks we can use the 'innate training' to actually practice the magic we’re going to need to get Wes back, and save Theodora.”
Donovan looks at Max, then back to me. “So we’re playing double agents?”
"Essentially."
“Cool.”
Max nods once. “If Lex thinks this will help Sparkles, of course I’m in.” If I didn’t know him better, I’d swear there were tears in his eyes.
Pulling myself back to standing, I feel the weight of the day heavy on my shoulders, but that’s alright.
And it doesn’t matter that I’m going back to the penthouse alone.
All that matters is sometime in the next month, I’m going to help Theodora burn the entire Conclave to the ground.
24
I’m still worried about Bully.
We didn’t get far with our excavations last night because he was sleeping.
Sleeping!
That’s not the powerhouse-minotaur behavior I’ve grown used to. At least we’re back at work today.
Ludo flings a massive chunk of poured concrete over his shoulder. I dodge getting smashed, then scrabble it further up the tunnel to an area we dug out for debris.
Oh, wait. Concrete and rebar? We must have reached the Tower foundation. Finally.
More cement, stone and struts fly overhead, and me and Bully get in a solid routine for a long time.
How thick are these fucking tower foundations?
As I scrape and shove, I put my mind onto how I’ll get Ludo to open up about whatever’s bothering him. It’s not like we can have a verbal heart-to-heart—or chinwag, as Sparkles so cutely puts it.
Suddenly, the bull freezes—just stands there with one hand on a concrete slab. His breathing is heavy and eyes unfocused.
Minotaur hurts.My hound is equally worried about him.
