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“You do realize I can legally murder you, right?” I checked.

Perhaps he wasn’t aware.

Instead of quaking in fear, the buffoon chortled. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.Andyou know you want her to enchant your pen. You should have asked last week.”

He was much, much more observant than I’d assumed.

I didn’t bother to continue the tiresome form as we waited for the witch. Instead, I decided to make the tea, breaking open one of the hampers packed in one of the boxes I’d take with me tonight. One was for my parents; another, for my fraternal grandmother; a third, for my cousin, Kore; and the one including scotch, for Ronan. The fifth was a spare. Might as well use it.

Opting to break out my own tea set, still on its tray in my drawer, I prepared three cups of loose leaf Lady Grey, each with a dehydrated lemon slice, set honey and sugar in their small ball, before placing one shortbread on each saucer.

“Dude.” I didn’t bother to acknowledge that with an answer, so predictably, Gideon continued. “Are you a grandma in a very convincing disguise?”

I glanced at his four mugs. They must have been white at one time, but the constant tea and coffee stains made them all appear distinctly muddy. Hence why I had not ever accepted a cup of tea from my coworker of six months. That didn’t stop him from offering.

“Not all of us are heathens.”

“I mean, I saw that fancy-ass teacup before, but I didn’t realize you had the whole tray and everything.” He shook his head. “You people are weird.”

“I believe you mean civilized.”

“No, no. I meant weird.” He waves to my elegant tray. “I mean, I get it. The pretty china, the custom suits, the hand kisses and holding doors open. That’s one thing. But how in the name of all that is unholy are youalsofucking lethal? You gotta choose, man. You’re either a barbarianora goddamn princess.”

Princess. I had heard worse insults.

“My grandfather trained me,” I told him.

It wasn’t common knowledge, but after six months of acquaintance, I was curious about his reaction.

His smile disappeared, replaced by wide, alarmed eyes. “Wait, you mean?—”

I nodded.

Everyone knew the name Cassius Regis.

Thirty-three years ago, he snapped and attempted to annihilate the majority of Highvale’s population—something he could and would have managed, had my mother, his own daughter, not intervened, along with some of the other founders. People were not about to forget seven hundred deaths, and a threat to thousands more people. All new bloods, all valers.

What would Gideon say? Recoil? Demand how I could let such a vile person exert any influence on me? Withdraw his club invitation tonight? I genuinely couldn’t tell.

“He—” His mouth closed. “Damn. I mean, he’s still around, huh?”

I took a certain degree of amusement in his bafflement. “Yes.”

“And hetrainedyou?”

I might have broken Gideon’s brain. “He did. His power’s exactly like mine, so he was the only one who could, really.”

That was an understatement. Cassius didn’t train me, he raised me, from the day I was born to the day I was no longer a menace to the rest of our family.

“So, you got the tea and cookie side from Mom and the murder side from grandaddy?” he attempted to joke, though his expression hadn’t yet cleared.

While I’d certainly made the conversation awkward, Gideon wasn’t running. No insult had crossed his lips. I wasn’t surprised. I’d guessed as much, but I appreciated the confirmation. Gideon was someone worth keeping a relationship with. Who knew all this time in the Guard would get me a new…if not friend, perhaps friendly acquaintance?

“Clearly, you haven’t met my mother,” I replied.

Upon consideration, casually meeting her might have led him to believe she was the kind of woman who’d sign up her son for etiquette classes.

“My father is the gentleman. The tea, the clothes, the manners—that’s him. He seemed to believe instilling some charm in his sons was necessary to make people forget they could snap and kill everyone at any time. My brother sucked up all the schmoozing genes. I stuck to the propensity for murder.”