He never thought he would see her again.
He had grieved her and hated his mother—their entire society—for a long time.
Unforgiving night spilled from his pores, wafting into the air around him. The slip in control was ill-advised, and it annoyed him, but this place brought his loss back in vivid detail each and every time.
Mother had known he would damn himself to save her, and so she had ordered him sedated to prevent him from throwing away his life. Her words, not his. He might not have been present for Grier’s trial, but he had watched the video, listened to the audio, and read the transcripts until he could recite each syllable as her life sentence was handed down, until that night was as real as any memory to him.
“Darling,” his mother cooed, snapping him back to the present. “I heard you were here.”
“You saw me on the video feeds,” he corrected, but he couldn’t stop his faint smile. She had, after all, returned Grier to him. Forgiven was not forgotten, but it was progress. “How are you?”
“Better now that you’re here.” She leaned in, smelling of the grapefruit essential oil she preferred to any perfume, and bussed his cheeks. “Come to my office. I was about to eat a late lunch. You can join me.”
On reflex, his gut cramped at the invitation. Not long ago, he would have passed on her offer, but Grier was healing him in all ways, and his mother would appreciate evidence of that.
“What brings you here at this hour?” She rounded her desk, pressed a button, and a sentinel appeared with a second china plate and napkin-rolled silverware. “Ungoddessly, isn’t it? The sun is so bright, and there are so many humans underfoot.”
“I could ask the same of you.” He sat and accepted the plate and utensils, then the half portion of Cobb salad from her. “You’re working all hours lately.”
“Yes, well.” She stabbed a leaf with gusto. “That Pritchard boy has some ideas on how to improve security. We’re upgrading the tunnels and running wiring for cameras.”
The fork in Linus’s hand froze halfway to his mouth as the implications sank in.
That Pritchard boy was Boaz Pritchard. He was meant to be her gofer as a punishment for helping Linus break into Atramentous with Grier to access what remained of the Great Library in order to harness her goddess-touched powers and save the city from Gaspard Lacroix.
His twelve-month sentence was up more than a year ago. Yet here she was, talking as if they remained in touch with one another. The notion Boaz’s patented charm might be working on his mother unsettled him.
“That is his area of expertise, or so I hear.” Linus forced himself to eat. “When does he rejoin the Elite?”
“Oh, that happened months ago.” Her attention remained on her meal, avoiding his eyes. “However, I have decided to post a contingent of Elite at the Lyceum. He will be heading the squad as well as overseeing the sentinels assigned here.”
Linus gulped a cherry tomato whole to keep from choking. “You’re bringing him back?”
“You two have bad blood between you,” she said with mild reproach, “but he truly is quite resourceful. I came to appreciate his gumption during his time here, and I can’t think of anyone better to head this new initiative.”
There had been blood, all right. Smeared down his face when Boaz broke his nose for bringing Grier flowers after her crush paraded his first girlfriend around town. Coating his shins when Boaz jerked him down from a tree branch where he sat to sketch Grier. Crusting his fists the first time their mutual dislike turned to blows.
“Employment at the Lyceum is at your discretion,” he said blandly. “You don’t need my permission.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission,” she parried sharply. “I was simply informing you so that you can let Grier know what to expect.”
“Ah.” That explained the advance warning. “I’ll tell her at dusk.”
“Good.”
The rest of their meal passed without mention of Boaz, which made his lunch far more palatable.
“I should be going.” Linus checked the time, and she smiled to see him using her gift rather than his phone. “I have an interview to conduct.”
“Linus.” His mother stabbed the last boiled egg on her plate. “He is over her, isn’t he?”
“Boaz has been engaged to Adelaide Whitaker longer than I’ve been engaged to Grier.” He was careful of his words, aware of the weight they carried. “Long engagements aren’t uncommon in the Society. Marriage is an unbreakable vow, after all.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her shrewd eyes flipped up to his. “I want to know if he’s going to cause any problems.”
All of a sudden, he grasped her fresh appreciation for Boaz’s gumption. She wanted him under her thumb until after the wedding. Maybe until after his own wedding. No doubt it had taken the last few months Boaz had spent back among the Elite for her to carve out this special niche for him.
“Will he abandon Adelaide for Grier? Would Grier have him if he asked? That’s what I want to know.” She pushed back from her desk, disgusted. “I’ve waited long enough, and this promises to be the social event of my lifetime. I won’t have it ruined.” She slapped her palm on her armrest. “I won’t.”
“Grier wouldn’t leave me for him.” The uncertainty in his voice would have earned him a solid pinch from her, so he tried again. “Grier loves me.” The darkness in him snickered, but he ignored its taunts. “She won’t leave me for Boaz.”
At last, his mother nodded reluctant acceptance. “See that she doesn’t.”
A rueful smile tilted his mouth. “I’ll do my best.”
“I expect grandchildren, Linus.” Her gaze softened. “Grier was a lovely girl, and you were such a handsome boy. Can you imagine how beautiful they’ll be?”
Even with the weight of the ring around his finger, he didn’t dare study the future that closely. “I’ll make your request known.”
“You do that.” She tossed her napkin onto her plate, signaling the end of lunch. “Did you need something, darling? You never said.”
“I had time on my hands and thought I would visit my mother. There’s no crime in that, is there?”
“I’m sure if there is, your fiancée will think up a way to punish you.”
“Yes, well.” The twinkle in her eyes disarmed him, as did the innuendo. The Siege had altered many things, including their relationship. “I’ll see you later, Mother.”
Bowing her head, she resumed her work, and he took the elevator up to city hall.
The pointed questions about Boaz had left him too raw to remain in her company. He would brief her on Lethe’s condition later, in case the Atlanta alpha decided to have words with Mother about allowing her daughter to be harmed while in close proximity to a necromancer…again.
Once he stepped out, Morrison abandoned his task of buffing a smudge off the hood to open his door.
“Where to, sir?”
His inflection never changed, and Linus found the routine settling. “Back to Flower Power.”
This time, the trip doubled in length thanks to a collision between a frazzled tourist in a rental car and a street artist who attempted to save a dog from a tour bus but got a broken leg out of the bargain.
“I’ll walk the rest of the way.” Linus let himself out before Morrison could throw the car into park. “At this rate, I might be finished by the time you reach the shop.”
He shut the door and hit the sidewalk, taking his time walking past the touristy kitsch. He reached the florist by four on the dot and was greeted by a tall boy with dark hair plastered to his head wearing a soggy tee with the Flower Power logo on the front.
“I wasn’t playing in the water.” He dropped the hose in his hand like it was a snake come to life. “I was spraying the plants and—”
“The hose attacked you.” Linus nodded with all seriousness. “Clearly you were wrestling it when I arrived to prevent it from assaulting any customers.” His lips twitched. “I appreciate your efforts on our behalf.”
The boy flushed a shade of red to match the walls as he studied Linus’s very wet, very expensive shoes.
“Your grandfather told you to expect me.” That would explain the rambling excuses. Law enforcement made guilty people nervous. Even if the crime was rolling through a stop sign or running a red light. “I need to ask you a few questions about an arrangement you delivered to Woolworth House yesterday afternoon.”
“Granddad told me. I should have known it wasn’t glitter.” He smoothed his hair back and flung the water off his fingers. “This guy, he gave me a packet of coppery-looking glitter and paid me fifty bucks to sprinkle it over the flowers.”
“The same guy who purchased them?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled quick and sharp. “I wouldn’t have done it for a stranger. I’m not a total dork.” He glanced down at his soaked clothes. “Most of the time.” Cheeks hot, he kept going. “He met me out on the street. I was about to get in my car when he came out of nowhere with the packet. He said he meant to drop it off when he placed the order but forgot. Then he saw me and hoped it wasn’t too late. He said it was for the bride, that she loved glitter. It’s a big account, and Granddad is being so extra about it. I wanted to get it right. For him.”
More than likely, Volkov had read the florist as the type who wouldn’t appreciate the implications his bouquets weren’t adequate. Far easier to bribe the delivery boy with a generous tip for a perceived favor.
“Do you have any glitter left?”
“Nah. I used it all. He told me to sprinkle it on in my car. It was kind of windy yesterday, and he didn’t want it to scatter.” He thought about it. “The packet he gave me is still in the passenger floorboard. I can get it for you.”