Page 24

Dad’s multi-slate buzzes, and he glances down at the screen, releasing Mom as he starts typing a reply.

I’m already on my feet before she can reach for the slim black cane leaning against the chair. “Here, take my hand.”

Her smile softens. “You don’t need to do that, love. You know I can walk perfectly well on my own.”

“I know, Mom.”

Still, I offer my hand anyway. After a beat, she takes it, settling gracefully onto the couch and reaching for the whiskey waiting beside her.

“Darling, by the way.” She lifts her glass and smiles. “I already booked everything for Helion. Remember that conservatory event I told you about?” Then she tilts her head toward the hallway. “Ah. The party’s arrived.”

The front door slams open with a bang before Dad can reply, followed by voices.

“…I told you it’s fine.” Rafe’s voice reaches us first, annoyed.

“It’s bleeding through your shirt, dude.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t fine.”

“It literally does.”

A second later, my cousins barge into the living room. Rafe’s tie is gone, his collar open, dried blood at the edge of his mouth. One cuff is spotted red. Lucan looks untouched, which usually means he was closest to whatever happened.

Marius trails behind his older brother, Rafe’s jacket slung over one shoulder and the car keys hooked around two fingers.

Mom leans back into her seat and takes a sip of whiskey. “Rafe, your mother wants to know why you were fighting.”

He stops short. “I wasn’t fighting⁠—”

Lucan walks straight past him and bends to kiss Mom’s cheek. “He was fighting.”

“Traitor.”

Mom smiles. “Call her before she calls me again.”

Dad leans back in his chair. “Good to see you all survived.”

“Barely.” Rafe drags a hand through his hair. “Marius drives like he’s personally offended by speed.”

“I was personally offended by you bleeding in the car.”

That gets a low laugh out of Dad.

Lucan drops into the chair by the fireplace and looks at me. “Are we actually going to your party, or are we pretending we still have time?”

“We’re going.”

Rafe drops onto the arm of the couch. “Good. They already started sending pictures. Someone’s going to break a neck before midnight.”

“Let’s hope it’s not one of ours.”

“Optimistic.” Marius tosses the keys onto the table.

Lucan groans. “Speaking of family disasters, my mother already started on me about next week’s reception.”

“The Halvern thing?” Rafe asks.

“The Virel thing,” Dad corrects dryly. “Halvern is handling the academy face of it. Our family is hosting.”