Edmund glared at the thin line of dangerous, chaotic energy. It hovered at the outside corner of Aurora’s repair shop. As he panted for breath after sprinting from her side, an icy anger spread inside him. It devoured the warmth that kissing her had kindled. While he’d been distracted with her lips, the softness of her cheek, and those curves beneath her ratty coat, an enemy had struck at the heart of the territory. The culprit had ripped a six-inch fissure in the Rallis energy bond.
He lifted his hand as if he might tear out the damage or better yet, cast a repair spell. If only such a spell were within his power…. Hell, he didn’t know anyone who could fix a bond. For that matter, he’d never heard of a bond that needed repair. Only a truly evil mage would dare attempt to harm one in the first place.
The bond was vital to the health of the territory. It saturated the land and air, allowing the senator and his heirs to keep the land’s energy, as well as the energy of the mages who lived here, safe and orderly. Without the bond, the territory’s energy would vibrate uncontrollably. Like it did here.
He scanned the site with his mage sense…a sixth sense that allowed him to see and manipulate some frequencies of the universe’s energy, but the area was already sterile—no residual vibes, no clues, no enemy. And sure as hell no junkyard gang member in sight. Where the fuck were they?
He clenched his jaw and casted a steer-clear spell over the spot, not that anyone was likely to walk through this far edge of the junkyard. But he wouldn’t risk it. Though he couldn’t fix the damage, he could prevent anyone from getting hurt because of it. He pivoted on his heel among the dead weeds at the building’s corner and strode off toward his car. He had to inform the senator.
There would be no words to soften the blow. Though he could use a calling charm and pass the news on immediately, this was one message he needed to deliver in person.
It was a long drive home, but the car broke records just as it was designed to do, his foot heavy against the accelerator. With every mile, his icy anger crept deeper into his gut, brushing his soul with its frosty touch. Not just anger…fear. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles white, refusing to give in to the shiver.
He pulled into the gates of Rallis Hall, parked the car, and dashed up the front steps. Jasper opened the door with a perfectly timed spell. He always did. His butler talents shined brighter than the family’s silver.
Edmund managed a civil nod of thanks and spun toward his grandfather’s office. His heart thumped hard with every step.
“Sir, the senator is with the governor of the seven counties and the director of P.U.R.E. I expect he’ll be awhile.”
He halted at Jasper’s reminder. Barging in with this news was unthinkable. “Squeeze me into his calendar as soon as this meeting ends, no matter what he has next.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he sprinted up the main stairs to the east hall, then to the north, and up to the fourth level.
His family home sprawled wide and high, though this particular hallway, which led to the attic stairs, was unnaturally cramped and dark. The day he’d come into his true power, he’d placed charms in the hallway’s four corners to make it smaller. Childish, but it discouraged visitors. Today he needed the peace of his refuge. He needed to plan. To find the right words to tell them what had happened. To be in the heart of his family while he still could. Because he knew what was coming.
His heart might have frozen solid at that thought, but a flicker of warmth remained…because of her.
He climbed the last set of stairs and stepped inside the north tower’s attic. The bleak space matched the feeling in his gut. Pacing to one of the east windows, he tossed a Mageman comic book he’d left on the sill into its box on the floor. He stared down at the sprawling front lawn.
Far ahead, a tall fence lined the property. Every inch of the fence was spelled with security casts, blocking any would-be intruders. Half a dozen guards manned the gatehouse, and five times that patrolled the grounds. The property was safe.
The territory was not.
If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought she’d planned it. But that was impossible. His enchantress couldn’t hurt a fly. No enchantress could. Plus, as intended, he’d taken her completely unaware.
Was it a coincidence that an enemy had struck the junkyard while he’d been there?
No. No way.
Someone had been watching as he’d kissed her, someone with balls bigger than wisdom should allow. Whoever it was wouldn’t have them for much longer.
Violating the energy’s bond was an act of war. The bond emanated from the heart of his family and reached to the territory’s borders. The fissure might as well be a rip in his soul. And vibe shite but soul rips hurt. The senator had to be hurting, too, likely worse than Edmund.
He leaned his hands against the window’s sill. His vantage point gave him a view of the woods’ treetops, concealing the city far beyond and the woman he’d waited for.
He wouldn’t lose her again. That flicker in his heart flamed with a painful heat at the idea. How long had she been hiding in the junkyard? Had she wondered about him? Maybe while she’d been making that damn eye? And who the blasted hells had ever heard of an enchantress with a repair shop? He’d only discovered the fact by accident and just in time, too.
Fuck, he should have thrown her over his shoulder and tossed her in the car. Rallis Hall’s north tower would make an excellent home for an enchantress. She’d be right beneath his refuge, easy to keep an eye on. Make that two eyes. One to ensure she stayed out of trouble, the other to admire those curves. If he’d stolen her, he could rub his hands over them while he pondered matters of state, such as a fissure in the Rallis bond.
A fissure that could only have been created by a mage with a power that matched his.
Problem was there were no other mages with a power like his. He was alone. Deadly. Too dangerous to live.
The sudden ring of an old landline ripped through the quiet. He spun around, his vibes up and ready to attack before he’d finished the turn. The shrill ring sounded again, just as impossible as the first. No landline graced his attic refuge.
He strode forward, right arm extended, fingers curved, thumb on top, as if he balanced a wand in his hand. He’d used the control device for years beyond the norm, his huge power so difficult to harness.
He stalked toward the couch. Again, the ring blared. This time he pinpointed its location—behind the couch on a rickety table piled with junk and uselessly draped with a dust cloth. Circling around, he reached out and yanked the cloth away. A black landline gleamed dust-free.
He knew the contents of this room like he once knew Aurora’s curves. This was not part of the Rallis cast-offs. The landline’s rhythmic cry vibrated the receiver twice more before he picked it up, the noise more insistent each time.
He held it near his ear, careful not to touch his head.
“Vow to stay silent!” Though static muffled the strident voice, the speaker’s outrage sang down the line.
He eyed the receiver as if it might provide a clue to the person on the other end. Female, from the pitch. And scratchy. Like an old hag who lived in an isolated hut and no one dared to visit. There was certainly one female in his life who would stoop to wiring a landline in his refuge so she could call him.
“Mother, is that you?”
A quiet pause gripped the connection, lengthening until tension crackled in his ear.
Finally, the caller spoke. “Boy, this is not your mother. If you can’t recognize my voice, then we need to chat more often.” Her words prowled down the line, a beast stalking prey. “Now, vow your silence.”
Hell. This day was not getting better. He took a deep breath and summoned his suave charisma. “My apologies, Lady High Councilor.” He bowed respectfully, a habit when speaking to such illustrious old crones capable of removing one’s head through a landline. That comment about Mother hadn’t helped. The two weren’t friends. “I’ve been derelict in my duties to the Republic not to have memorized the sound of your lovely voice coming through the landline.”
Who knew the woman even deigned to make landline calls? Did she not have a secretary? He should recommend someone for her so they didn’t have to do this again.
“Vow!” Her command washed over him like a waterfall of molten metal, hardening into place as it coated him.
He forced his mouth to move beneath the pressure. “About what am I vowing to stay silent, Lady?” Thrusting the strangled words through her power left him panting for air, but he refused to vow silence about an unknown subject, though he could narrow the possibilities to two: the enchantress living in Rallis Territory and her criminal past or the fissure. Or the fact that he’d destroyed evidence when he’d cast his spell on the unnatural eye. Make that three possibilities.
A push of power was the High Councilor’s only answer. Her energy streamed into his throat and pulled the words from his gut.
“I vow.” He gagged. Unmanly, yet unavoidable. The moment the strained words left his mouth, the heavy weight of a vow to the High C pressed on his shoulders.
A click came through the receiver. She’d hung up on him.
He dropped the receiver into it cradle and grabbed the base to yank out its cord. There wasn’t one. He let the landline thump to the top of the junk pile and pondered kicking the whole damn stack to the ground.
Beyond the attic door, footsteps pounded a warning. He recognized the rhythm, as well as the approaching mage vibes. His twin was coming up the stairs. A one-man cavalry. He wasn’t surprised. Vincent had surely sensed his pain from the fissure and was coming to check on him. In welcome, Edmund pushed the door open with his vibes.
Vin gave him a chin-up nod as he entered. He inspected his surroundings then marched to the nearest window. Edmund glared at the landline once more before returning to his spot at the other front window.
Outside, a car pulled into the gates. Two flags waved on the sides of its hood.
“She’s home. ETA three minutes.” Vin stared out, motionless, straight. Always at attention. “Talk quick.”
Edmund stuck his hands in his pockets. “You’re disturbing my nap,” he drawled.
“Sleeping on your feet, were you?”
“With a rocking dream.” She’d rocked a number of his dreams over the last months. He hated waking up from them. She disappeared all over again.
Their mother’s driver pulled up in front of the house. A sentry, clad in the dark gray of Rallis with a scarlet sash, exited the passenger seat and opened her door. She stepped out, one high heel at a time and looked up at the attic windows, her gaze targeted him like a tracking spell though even she couldn’t see through the spelled glass. Could she?
“Two minutes.”
It’d be nice to confide in his brother. But he’d just vowed silence to something. The only way to find out was to try and see which words strangled him. He took a breath. “Aurora...”
He let the rest of that breath go. His luscious girl wasn’t the secret.
“Aurora?” Vincent prompted.
With another inhale, he prepared to explain, but stopped. He wanted her to himself for a little longer. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought fast. “The aurora borealis can’t be seen from here except on very rare occasions.”
Vincent blinked. “I used to think highly of your bullshit skills. Not anymore.”
Edmund ignored the taunt. It wasn’t like that would be hard to earn back. With another breath, he tried the next topic. “A fi—” The word cut off, his air stopped as if a hand shoved down his throat to block his vocal cords. He grabbed his neck as if he might dislodge the energetic grip, but his hands couldn’t touch the vow. There’d be no telling anyone about the fissure after all. Why the hell had the High C done this? The senator needed to know the territory was facing a serious threat.
“Are you choking?” Vincent’s alarm took a moment to penetrate Edmund’s oxygen deprived brain. He spun around, giving his back to his brother, not wanting a witness to this, but Vin didn’t cooperate. Edmund shoved away the hand on his shoulder, but a backwards hug came next, along with a serious thrust of Vin’s fist into his diaphragm. Vibing hells, his brother was giving him the Heimlich. Edmund might have laughed. Unfortunately, this vow was going to kill him before he had the chance to share the joke.
Another thrust. Consort of the goddess, that vibing hurt.
“What is going on in here?” His mother busted into the room. The door banged against the wall.
As the threat of his words disappeared, the silence vow finally released its chokehold. He took an enormous gulp of air. It resounded around the room.
“Vincent Burr Rallis, were you strangling your brother?” Their mother had no qualms at reprimanding the commander of the Republic’s army.
Vin lifted his hands, palms facing his body in an innocent mage’s pose. “My arms weren’t around his throat. He was—”
“He was practicing his Heimlich, Mother,” Edmund rasped.
The lady of the land’s nose flared. “Oh, for goddess’s sake, Edmund, is that all you can come up with?”
He cleared his throat. “Apparently I’m not the bullshitter everyone thinks I am.”
“And neither are you well-mannered.”
He tried to break it to her gently. “Manners are just a façade men put on for the women in their lives.”
She puffed up. “They certainly are not. Manners are the foundation of civil society. They keep a people cohesive and cooperative. When the entire group has common expectations of behavior, fewer misunderstandings occur. For instance, the rules of this house. One in particular comes to mind. Dangerous items confiscated from criminals are housed in the basement armory and are not removed until the convening.”
Edmund shook his head, hands in pockets. “I’ve not heard that rule before.” He looked at Vin. “You?”
“Nope. Haven’t heard that one.”
Truth. It had never been specifically verbalized as a rule.
“Edmund!” His mother actually stomped her foot. “The unnatural eye is missing! Imagine my surprise, my utter embarrassment.” Her vibes skewed slightly with the last words, jerking in the air.
The vibes of lies always reminded him of crickets chirping.
“I opened the deadening box to find it empty. Empty! In front of the entire judicial panel.” Crickets again.
He’d known this was coming. “Mother.” He shook his head, disappointed. “You might have opened the box, but it wasn’t in front of the judicial panel. The hearing for that violation was erased from the convening’s agenda scrolls. I cast the spell to erase it myself. The man who bore the eye is dead. There’s no point in convicting him of a crime.”
She shook her manicured finger in the air. “That eye was strewn with power. Utterly drenched in it. Who knows what that man was capable of seeing with it? In my life I’ve seen many cases of unnatural physique up close and personal. Never have I encountered the power that reeked from that sphere.”
It hadn’t reeked. It had sung with power, despite the fact that it had been in the skull of one of the darkest mages in existence.
His mother took a breath. “Someone made that eye. Someone needs to pay. The entire Republic abhors unnatural physique.”
She was right. The vibes of unnatural physique made it impossible for a ruling family to bind a mage and ensure his loyalty, leaving the mage a renegade with uncontrolled energy. That was reason enough for the founding families to despise it. But it wasn’t just the descendants of the Mayflower mages who hated it. The uprisings of ’93 and ’02 that started in the south and spread to the northern territories would never have happened if the radical political groups hadn’t had access to unnatural physique. Artificial muscles had powered the rebels beyond human strength. Enhanced skin had repelled defensive spells and let them charge through the army’s barricades. Thousands of innocent mages had been caught in the crossfire and died.
What had Aurora been thinking to create such a monstrosity? That eye had severed the metallist mage from his Rallis ties and might even have contributed to his insanity.
But there was no point bringing that up that now. The eye was gone forever. Wiped from existence.
“We can all guess who the criminal was. It was a metal eye worn by a metallist mage, who is now dead. Making this public knowledge will only reflect poorly on Rallis.” And endanger his enchantress. He stepped forward and placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “I understand your feelings on unnatural physique, but for the sake of the territory, we need to keep this within the family. I’ve taken care of it. I also took care of mailing our census this afternoon.” His change of subject probably wouldn’t distract her, but it was worth a try.
Before he’d driven to the junkyard, he’d slipped the papers into the new mailbox at the corner of Goodale Park. Reporters from the city’s three major papers had captured the moment, Edmund’s attempt to help the city heal. No one would ever forget the little boy who’d opened the mailbox on the corner of Park Street and Buttles Avenue, excited to be tall enough to reach all by himself, only to be brutally murdered, along with twenty-eight other mages, the terrorists’ bomb triggering when he’d opened the mailbox.
Five months gone and the park had yet to be repaired. Its beloved elephant fountain remained a partially crumpled heap on the park’s northeast quadrant. To prod the park committee into action, he’d finally had a new mailbox installed. The former blue metal hump that had hidden the bomb had been replaced with a glass one—see-through and strengthened with spells to ensure it was indestructible. There would be no hiding deadly weapons in this one.
He’d publicly taken the crystalline hump’s virginity with the fat census envelope while the reporters’ image spells snapped around him. The background of the pictures would clearly show the committee’s lack of work on the fountain.
Edmund always played his part to bring their mages peace, to lead them into their future, whether he wanted the job or not.
His mother nodded. “I heard. Nice move.”
“Yep. I can see the headlines now. Rallis Family Census Heir-Mailed.” He looked over at his brother. “Those reporters are fools if they don’t take advantage of that pun.”
Vin shrugged. “They’re fools. You better call and suggest it.”
Their lady mother covered her eyes with a hand but collected her frazzled wits easily. “Since I have you both here, the P.U.R.E. Ball is in two days. You are going, Vincent. And Edmund, you will have a proper date.”
“Of course, Mother. I’m asking the love of my life to the ball.”
She stared at the ceiling, exasperation drenching her every vibe. “Just show up with someone appropriate.” Spinning on her heel, she disappeared down the stairs, her footsteps silent, like all well-mannered mages.
Vincent stared. “I cannot believe she didn’t notice.”
Neither could Edmund. He wasn’t unique in his ability to sense lies. Many mages could...when they bothered to pay attention. And their mother always paid attention, except, apparently, when Edmund spoke of love.
“You’re telling the truth.”
* * * *
Aurora huddled over the morning newspaper at her usual booth, but her eyes skipped over the words. Instead, Edmund occupied her mind. He’d held that metal eye and blindly believed she’d done nothing worse. Her lips softened, as if in sympathy for his gullibility, but really it was in memory of his kiss. Heat uncurled inside her and rose to the edges of her skin.
She flicked the paper shut with an annoyed snap. The heir was not gullible. And that kiss needed to be forgotten. She lifted her mug and took a scalding swallow of coffee to drown any remnants of the memory.
Behind her, bacon sizzled on the grill, the hiss merging with the diner’s sleepy atmosphere. Its scent mingled with yeasty waffles and fresh ground coffee. Though Bleak’s Diner had good food, their coffee was the best in the territory…the best in two territories since she’d not found its equal in Noble Territory either. She could only guess that Bleak added magic beans to his daily grind. Like sunflowers on a rainy day, she was droopy without it.
She leaned back as Izzy paced over, coffee pot in hand. The waitress’s bright yellow hair, bobbed but spiky at the ends, swished in time with her pace. The tips of her spikes were a rainbow of colors that matched the tiny beads in her nose ring.
“I heard a rumor about you.” Izzy poured the hot stream of caffeine into Aurora’s mug, then set the coffee pot on the table and rubbed at her scarred fingers.
Aurora closed her eyes, but it was too late. The roar of the bomb exploded in her mind. The cloud of fire burned her face as if it were in front of her all over again. Its thunder had silenced everything. When it had receded, it left the screams and moans of the dying in its place. Her mind processed the memories like snapshots of sounds and sights, Merida dominating many of them, begging, pleading, demanding her help. Around them, fate’s chaos squeezed them together, binding Aurora to her future.
“I heard you have a sweetheart.” Izzy said, oblivious to the horror that held Aurora’s mind. The waitress was another survivor of the bomb, her scarred fingers just one of her souvenirs. “If it’s true, then he isn’t worth cleaning your sheets for if he doesn’t come in here with you. A man ought to take his woman to breakfast the morning after, feed her something sweet to remember him by.” Izzy smiled with tight lips. It was hard to catch the other woman in a full smile. “You seen Bull?”
A few days after the bombing, Bull—Izzy’s brother and current leader of the junkyard gang—had insisted Aurora and Merida fix his sister’s crushed hip and legs when he’d learned what they’d done to Lily. One month later, Izzy had been the first person to move out of the forest and live with the rest of society despite her illegally enhanced physique. Although Aurora had nightmares on a regular basis about Izzy being exposed, the brave woman didn’t seem worried in the least.
The diner’s door chimed open.
“Speak of the devil. Here he is.” Izzy picked up her coffee pot, the dark, rich liquid steaming thanks to her spell. “Morning, Bull.”
“Morning, Iz.” He fluffed his sister’s hair and slid into Aurora’s booth, across from her, as if he’d been expected. He was broad enough that sitting next to him on the bench seat would be an intimate experience. A construction worker by day, Owen Crombie, a.k.a. Bull, spent his evenings in the junkyard training for amateur mage fighting matches. He always won. A dark mind mage, he read the dark thoughts of his opponents. His mage power was just another muscle to use when fighting fellow mages, though his ability was a deeply hidden secret.
He eyed her coffee. She tightened her fingers around her mug. Bull wouldn’t hesitate to swipe hers for a sip or four. She pulled it closer. It took two full mugs of this brew daily to power her up. Never mind that she was on her third. “Get your own.”
He smiled and mouthed the word please to his older sister. Once his own mug of coffee was safely in front of him, Aurora spoke. “What do you want?”
He held up his hands, palms in. “I can’t come see the enchantress of the Drainpipe just because I want to?”
“You could, but you don’t. The only time you come see me is when there’s a problem.”
“Not true. Remember the time I brought you those tickets to the symphony when they were playing at the amphitheater?”
“The ones you didn’t want because classical music sucks trash vibes and you refused to waste a precious date night with Boobs Brunette fully clothed?” She tapped her finger to her lips. “Yes, I believe I remember that.”
He lifted his eyebrows to the crown of his nonexistent hair in a parody of innocence. “You had a good time, right?”
“So did you, I’m sure.”
He nodded, male satisfaction stretching across his face.
“Uh-huh. So did she. I get it.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement, but then the satisfaction faded. “I wish you could find another good time for yourself. Seems that every corner you turn lately another problem squares off at you. And if there happens to be a corner out there with no problem, you’re tensing up anyway, expecting one.” He leaned against the booth and spread both arms on the back of the seat. “I’m not around all the time and even I’ve noticed. Tera has noticed. Merida, Izzy.
“Next thing you know, little Lily is gonna be crying over faulty flower crowns because you’re too distracted with problems to spell them together right. They’re all keeping their heads down, Ror. They’re living the way they need to in order to survive.”
She stared, searching her friend’s hard face. Of all her friends, Bull was the one who understood her fears the most. “What if we can’t hide forever?”
He leaned forward and spoke softly. “This whole country comes from a long line of hiders. If we didn’t have hiding in our blood, every mage’s ancestor woulda burned. You gotta believe. You gotta have faith. You used to. Otherwise why even bother fixing the engines on these people? If I walk into a fight thinking I’m gonna lose, you know what happens?”
“Yes—”
“I lose.”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “Junkyard talk, Ror. I’m disappointed. You say it, but you don’t mean it. You gotta let the faith seep into your skin and drench your bones for the sake of the forest people.” It was Bull’s term for the people she’d enhanced, as well as those who knew what she’d done, whether they lived in the forest or not. “Because pretty soon they aren’t gonna believe either. And if they stop trusting that they’re safe and protected, they’ll stop working so hard to keep their secrets hidden.”
He leaned to one side and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. Pulling out a piece of paper, he slapped it on the table. It was an envelope. An expensive one based on its creamy color and linen texture. The inside was lined with gold. She knew because it was open. Turning it over, she saw her name scribbled on the front.
“You opened my mail?” She gave him a one-sided frown and pulled out the heavy card inside. She didn’t need to read far. “P.U.R.E.? Hellhounds, Bull. No way. Where did this even come from?”
“Delivered by messenger. One of the gang intercepted him.”
“Which doesn’t explain why you opened it.”
He lifted his mug in a toast. “Anything in the name of security.”
“Do you know what P.U.R.E. stands for?”
“Yeah. Prissy Ugly Rich Elitists.”
She laughed, exasperation bubbling up with the humor.
Izzy walked up with another newspaper. “Table four left this behind. Thought you might like to read their leftovers.” The invitation fell to the floor as the paper brushed against them.
“Whoops.” Izzy bent and picked up the stiff paper. “P.U.R.E.? I hardly think they’re going to find many People of Universal Righteous Energy in the Drainpipe. At least not as they define it.” She read further and then donned a real smile. “You are cordially invited to the P.U.R.E Ball.” She turned toward the rest of the diner. “Hey, guys! A girl from the Pipe is going to infiltrate the P.U.R.E. Ball.”
A chorus of cheers and applause filled the open space of the diner. Bleak, the cook, hooted his approval through the kitchen window. “You show ’em who really lives in the Pipe!”
“Yeah! Damn P.U.R.E.,” an older man by the far window chimed in. “Prejudice Used to Refuse Equality.”
Another diner raised his coffee mug. “We’re just as right as the light.” Another round of yeas echoed through the diner as everyone raised their mugs, including Bull. He lifted a brow, daring her to join. She lifted her cup.
Izzy set the invitation down. “You show P.U.R.E. that the people of the Drainpipe are as worthy as everyone else. We’re Pipers.” She pumped her fist in rhythm with the shortened term for those who lived in the Drainpipe. To those outside the Pipe, it was an insult, but everyone here was proud to be a Piper. She walked away and the crowd turned back to their papers and eggs.
Aurora glanced around to make sure the diners were back to minding their own business and then leaned in to Bull. “What the heck?” she hissed. “I thought you wanted me to hide.”
He lowered his voice. “The forest people need to stay quiet and discreet. But after yesterday, that’s not an option for you. I saw that kiss. I didn’t see him in time to stop him from trespassing, obviously. I’d guess he saw you in your shop and followed you?”
“I don’t know. He had a see-me-not charm. Did you see what he held in his hand?” She answered for him. “My father’s eye. The Rallises had it all along. Edmund destroyed it in mid-air.” She shoved the invitation back at him.
“Ah. Edmund, huh? Interesting.”
Aurora stayed silent. He’d see through any defense she offered.
His thoughtful frown lasted a lengthy moment. “We need a change of strategy.” He pushed the invitation back to her side of the table. “Starting with this. This is your fight. You go, give them your goody-goody, innocent-me smile, and say whatever’s necessary to keep them away from the junkyard.”
“No. I don’t like these people.”
P.U.R.E. disguised itself as a grassroots movement aiming to reunite society in the aftermath of the terrorists. But they were only interested in select portions of society. “This is just another version of the light reigning supreme over the dark.”
“Screw them. You are P.U.R.E. in the truest sense of the word—kind and caring, out there with your little rebel heart doing good with your gifts. Go. Represent the forest people and the Pipe whether or not the snobs know it.”
His hand engulfed hers as he gave her a pat. “Drenched with faith…this is how it works. You go challenge the best fighter. Win. Then you’re the biggest and the baddest and those under your protection stay safe.”
She shook her head. She knew the biggest and baddest. It wasn’t her. Edmund took that title without lifting a finger. She pulled her hand away from Bull and stroked her fingers over the embossed writing on the invitation. A hand-written message appeared.
Pay up.
She’d already guessed the source of the invitation, but there it was, spelled out for her. “No.” She shoved the invitation back into the envelope with a furious thrust.
“Do you want them to come to you? Because that’s what’s gonna happen next.” He gave her exactly enough time to picture the results of that and then delivered his next punch. “You spent years vowed to that vibe shite founding family. You know how they work.” He planted his hands on the table. “You’re the only one of us who can run interference with these people. This is your fight. Go to the ball. Dress up. Dance. I’ll find you a dress myself if I have to.”
“So now you’re my fairy godfather?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Maybe you can blow off some steam in the process. Relax. Find a bed buddy. Choose him, if you want. Keep your enemies close, huh?”
“A bed buddy?” Her incredulous tone drew the stares of the other diners.
“I was being polite. A fuck buddy. But do the nasty at his house, not at yours.”
Izzy returned with offers of refills putting an end to the argument. Bull accepted and ordered three entrees of breakfast. Aurora declined, her stomach locked at the idea of attending a P.U.R.E. ball. Besides, she’d lingered in the diner too long anyway.
He nodded at the door. “Go. I know you’ve got to get to work. I got your coffee. And remember to pick out a dress.”
She slid out of the booth, leaving the invitation behind, but he caught her by the tail of her coat. He shoved it into the back pocket of her pants.
Stomping out of the diner, she paced down the sidewalk as if she could outrun her pocket. Bitter cold wind wrapped around her as she stepped around the cracks in the broken concrete. Almost all the sidewalks and roads of the Pipe were pockmarked and cracked. Little tax money was thrown in this direction. Fine by her. Money meant the light creeping closer, bringing their judgment and prejudice.
But Bull was right. Not going was a guarantee that Edmund would return. Her stomach twisted; a puff of glitter clouded around her. Again. She looked around, right and left. Goddess, had anyone caught that?
Her shoulders slumped as she caved to the only option.
To save the kingdom, she’d go to the ball.