Page 16

KLEOS

I wasn’t the best of cooks. I could feed myself without resorting to daily takeout like my cousin, but I had the same weakness there as I did in potion brewing: a lack of creativity.

My grandmother complained about that flaw over and over again back when she used to teach me. Why couldn’t I understand that if the recipe said one scarab, and my stock so happened to be small, I simply had to have the presence of mind to use two— but remove the head of the second first?

Because that wasn’t what the recipe said, that was why.

We butted heads until we both accepted that I would never be a proficient potion brewer.

What I excelled at was baking . Baking was predictable: follow the instructions to the letter, and the likelihood of failure was close to nil. My anxiety could handle baking. Soufflé didn’t count. I only attempted soufflé au fromage when I was too fond of myself and needed some humbling.

Given the fact that I needed Silver in a very good mood tonight, I played it safe, sticking to my strengths: I ordered two courses from our favorite fusion Vietnamese restaurant—a ruinous place we all adored and rarely patronized—and baked a decadent chocolate fondant.

If I went a little heavy on healing magic at the gooey center, it was no sin.

The effects of excessive healing magic were similar to weed while being milder: it made everyone a little more relaxed and happier.

My plan was to wait until we got to that last course, after plenty of wine, delicious food, and an ever-so-slightly drugged dessert.

My plan went to shit.

Silver took one look at the selection of complex dim sum, sniffed the air—that woman could smell chocolate a mile away—and turned to me, her hands on her hips. “Fess up. What did you do?”

Dammit .

Gideon, bless him, walked in just then, providing me with a well-timed escape.

He had the keys to all the Valesco properties, our immense Palladian house on the 3rd circle included, so he never rang.

Perfect man that he was, my cousin was carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

It was absolutely not required of him—he could show up sweaty and emptyhanded any time he wanted—but the unspoken law of our relationship was that he provided alcohol and I provided baked goods.

Silver, as my oldest friend, and someone who didn’t have any kind of trust fund, was encouraged to never bring anything to me.

For all that, she also wasn’t emptyhanded.

There was no mistaking the little leather pouch in her hand.

She brought me goodies! The kind of goodies I couldn’t wait to unwrap.

Even more than the wine. But she seemed in no mood to give me anything right this moment.

I wisely ignored her and focused on the newcomer. “Oh, flowers! Let me find a vase. And is that cava? I’d better put it in the fridge for dessert?—”

“Kleos, don’t insult my intelligence. You can bring a damn vase, fill it with water, and levitate it right here like this.” Silver snapped her fingers to demonstrate it.

I sighed, and snapped my fingers. Twenty seconds later, the flowers were in their vase, floating to the nearest sideboard.

I still took the bottle by hand. Electronics and magic didn’t mix well—I didn’t want to break my fridge again.

Undeterred, she followed me to the open-plan kitchen, though her attention stayed on Gideon. “Your cousin fucked up. She bought us food from Zest .”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Gideon rubbed his hand over his tummy. “I haven’t had Zest in forever. What’s the occasion?”

“As I said,” Silver replied for me. “There’s no occasion, so she fucked up. Big . What’s going on, Kley?”

I sighed. That was what I got for getting myself a friend who knew me better than the back of her hand. “Look, it’s no big deal.”

“If it was no big deal, we wouldn’t be eating Zest. Dinner must have cost you two weeks of pay. Now, fess up before the food get cold.”

“No.” I refused to let her bulldoze through my carefully crafted, planned evening. “Fancy fusion dim sum, with wine, then I’ll fess up.”

We glared at each other, neither of us giving an inch. Out of the two of us, she certainly was the stubborn one, but on the rare occasions when my mind was made up, I wasn’t one to give an inch.

Sweetheart that he was, Gideon, he was seated within fifteen seconds. I grinned. Outnumbered, Silver grumbled all the way to my vast, elegant dining room.

The Valesco house once belonged to my grandparents.

They moved to a smaller, yet just as imposing townhouse on the 11th circle—quieter, not as close to the Hall or the Guard—after my parents’ wedding.

My mother claimed the ground floor, my father, the first, and I was in the attic.

On the third and fourth floors, there was the world’s most boring library, a billiard room, cigar room, and other parlors meant to entertain that I never stepped into when I could help it.

They were all filled with ancient artifacts, suitable to impress fellow politicians.

This house was, first and foremost, the home of the high magister, at the head of the ruling council of Highvale.

Void of warmth, personality or, quite frankly, taste, and never untidy, without a speck of dust, it was a professional setting.

I hated every inch of this place. But I’d made the attic mine over the eight years since I’d been allowed to move there.

Sort of. My mother was strict about the kind of furniture permitted in her house, and had approved each piece, but my space was no longer the monstrous pink and white princess bedroom she’d designed for me.

The dining room was painted sage green, and my furniture, white with silver accents, was almost modern by Highvale standards.

If I’d been completely free to do what I wanted, the walls would be darker, or brighter, or both.

There would be dramatic black pieces, and deep greens or reds. One could dream.

One day, they’d let me move out, and I’d jump from room to room with a paint brush.

As things stood, my favorite place in the entire attic apartment was my balcony, and its view of the large canal running up to the Hall of Truce through the public gardens at the very center of Highvale. This view was worth millions, and there wasn’t a day when I didn’t appreciate it.

Tonight being in late October, it was too cold to eat on the balcony, but my dining room’s floor-to-ceiling windows gave a gorgeous view of the park, the Hall, and beyond them, the clear starry sky.

My silver-brushed table could sit six—maybe eight at a push—but I rarely had more guests than these two.

We all had our favorite seats: Gideon, his back to the balcony, because the man never feared anything; Silver, to his left, with a clear view of all entrances and exits, as well as the kitchen, in case I was cooking; and mine, to his right, where I could peek at the canal below.

I sat there for dinner even when I was alone.

Sometimes when I was lucky, looking down, I could see one of the kelpies swimming right in front of the house.

They were wild of course—and highly dangerous—but given the general state of the world, creatures of nature and magic were drawn to the Vale.

The city was high in the Alps, and surrounded by so many layers of protections saving us from the pollution, the excess of iron, and the overpopulation of the world.

Gideon moaned at the first mouthful.

“Whatever you did, I forgive you,” he announced.

I beamed at him, serving all of us some already decanted white. Gideon was never the problem here. He always forgave far too easily. I didn’t think he even understood the concept of holding grudges.

Silver? She cultivated them with more care than an herbalist lovingly watering their hydrangeas. Especially against those she loved. And I didn’t judge her for it.

Silver had been abandoned as a child. Her mother hadn’t truly had much of a choice in the matter, objectively speaking, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d given birth to her and walked out of her life before Silver could remember her face.

I knew most of her history from my parents, as Silver never talked of it.

The moment she was born—the size of an adorable, if tiny little baby girl—Silver weighed three stones.

Strange, for such a dainty child who didn’t look much heavier than one, but manageable nonetheless.

In a world where everyone knew there were paranormal creatures out there, not that abnormal.

But by her second month, she was ten stones—the size of a newborn, but heavier than her own mother.

Her mother dropped her off at a paranormal agency in Athens and walked out of her life, unable to cope with a child with all the needs of a newborn, and yet simply so heavy .

There wasn’t a technical term for a condition so unique, but when she was brought here, the elusive demigod couple who took her in her called her an ironskin . Which made no sense because she was a hell of a lot heavier than iron. But I suppose her skin was just as strong.

A girl doesn’t like to talk about her weight and all, but I was pretty certain that, at five foot one, dainty, athletic, and seemingly lighter than a hundred pounds soaking wet, Silver was as heavy as an average truck.

I genuinely couldn’t move her an inch, if I pushed her with every bit of my physical strength.

That said, Silver had no other ability beyond pure, brutal force, so she was vulnerable in this city, full of so many magic users. While no one was truly capable of harming her by touch, they certainly could do a lot of damage by magic.

Most kids in town had some degree of magic protection—even shifters, vampires, and fae, weren’t as easy to charm as a regular mortal. Silver had zero shields.

We started school together at twelve, her, notorious because of her strangeness, and me, known for strange incidents, as well as my illustrious parents.

No one wanted to be caught misbehaving by Kleos Valesco, which left me isolated.

And no one wanted to be punched by Silver for using magic that affected her in her vicinity, which meant she had no friends.

For all that, we didn’t necessarily get along at first. She was fire to my water. But it soon became clear that we were two weirdos, and could join forces or suffer separately.

One day, some idiot kids attempted to push her into the canal, and without even thinking about it, I retaliated by sending a stream of water strong enough to push them back all the way to the other side of the street—leaving Silver completely dry.

It wasn’t completely uncontrolled magic, but I hadn’t planned on it either.

Just because I wasn’t the crazier of the two of us didn’t make me a saint when people got on my nerves, and I didn’t like bullies.

We’d been friends ever since. From the moment I learned to enchant objects, I tossed stones charmed with shields in her bag when she wasn’t looking, and for a while, she pretended not to see them.

And by all the gods, I sincerely pitied anyone who dared to piss me off in front of her.

My methods of retributions didn’t leave people bleeding on the pavement.

Unfortunately, all of her fierce loyalty was tinted with a degree of mistrust and proving her right sucked.

I should have told her. I knew that. But I also knew her reaction would have been explosive, and at the time, I hadn’t been concerned enough to bring her in on it.

The plan had been to figure it out, then let her help me hunt down and torture the asshole who’d burned me.

Silver hated when we kept anything from her. And she would loathe this. Because it was serious—more serious than I would have thought, given what was on Gideon’s desk.