“Four hours if we’re lucky. We called Doughty in from Buckhead. His rulings hold up best in the Lyceum.”
Doughty was a witch, and a man of science. Between the two disciplines, he made a peerless analyst.
“Keep me posted.” He ended the call as Morrison parked in front of city hall. “Back in an hour. I’ll call if I’m detained.”
There was no escaping the chauffeur routine here on the steps of the building where his mother worked, not when cameras filmed all entrances and fed her a steady diet of information.
Prior to the Siege of Savannah, she had been content allowing a human security force to police the premises while a lone sentinel monitored the upstairs’ feeds from behind a locked door. Back then, she had kept the bulk of her defenses in place on the lower levels. Now the security staff at city hall was one hundred percent sentinel. No humans who applied for the post would receive a callback ever again.
The start of lunchtime meant Linus rode the elevator twice before he got it to himself. Only then did he use his key to gain access to the lower floors. The extra descent gave him time to apply what Grier called his Scion Lawson mask.
Cool. Aloof. Bored. All the facets expected from this personality.
The car hit bottom, and he exited into the main hall. Crimson tiles with heavy veining paved the way to what he considered the arena. Rows of seating for each caste within the Society loomed high overhead, reaching all the way to the ceiling. Ahead of him sat the box where the Grande Dame and her advisors made their rulings.
The darkness in him pulsed, stronger in this place, and he gritted his teeth to keep his power leashed when it screamed within him, shrieking its intent to shred this theater to splinters it would drive into the hearts of any who tried to stop him.
Grier had been tried here. Without meaning to, he had stopped walking on the exact spot where she had stood and been judged. Sixteen years old and found guilty of a murder she hadn’t committed. Tossed away in Atramentous to rot.
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.”