24. Adam

‘Liam collapsed. Thought you might want to know.'

My mind went dark for a second, sudden dizziness washing over me. I sagged against the kitchen cabinets. Early evening light spilled onto the tiles, the rhythm of the sea welling in my ears and the letters of Gale's message dancing in front of my eyes.

Liam collapsed.

Liam.

Collapsed.

When I called Gale, he picked up immediately. "Hey."

"What happened?" White panic squeezed any inflection out of my voice. "Where is he?"

"He just…He fainted, Adam. On the Southwark site. It was just for a minute, he's okay, said he hasn't been sleeping right."

He's okay.

I sucked in a breath, my ribs fluttering. "He's okay—really?"

"Yeah. I drove him home."

"He needs to see a doctor."

Faint humour seeped into Gale's tone. "You tell him that. He sure wasn't keen when I suggested it."

I pushed away from the cabinet and took the three steps to the terrace door, turned, and walked the same distance back. My skin had shrunk to half its size. Liam was—he'd just—how dare he just collapse when I wasn't there to…When I wasn't there.

My chest hurt. My whole body hurt after a week of constantly feeling like my head was underwater, lying awake when I should be sleeping. I'd thought a couple of days at the beach house would help. The opposite was true.

I couldn't do this.

Walking away from him had been the hardest thing I'd ever done. I'd thought I was strong enough to sacrifice who I was with him to protect Gale, to protect my entire family. I'd also thought it would set Liam free—that even if he didn't see it that way right now, it would eventually allow him to find something real, something he deserved.

And now he'd just…He'd collapsed. And I hadn't been there to catch him.

He hadn't been sleeping right?Yeah, me neither.

I couldn't fucking do this.

Gravel lined my throat, but I kept pushing words out regardless. "You drove him home, you said?"

"I did, yeah." Gale paused. "I really think he is okay, Adam. In terms of…Physically, I mean. But he's not okay without you, and you're not okay without him."

"I'm not," I admitted.

Gale was quiet for a beat. "Then why did you end it?"

"You know why."

Another moment of silence stretched between us while I began moving towards the bedroom. My bag was mostly still packed. I just needed to throw my toiletries in, zip it all up, and then hit the road.

"I don't want that for you." Gale's voice was quietly firm. "I don't want to be the reason you're unhappy. It's not right, and I love you too much to allow it."

I stopped halfway up the stairs. "Gale…"

"No." His tone gained a rare edge of combativeness. "For once, I want my say. Yeah, I'm just a lowly little Spark, but I can't have everyone scrambling to protect me for the rest of my life. We'll figure something out, all right? We'll make peace with the Ashtons, and if we drop a few ranks in power and importance, I don't give a shit. Neither should you. We are not Dad or Eleanor, and how they see things isn't the only way there is."

My throat closed up, and it took a moment before I managed to find my voice. "I'm about to pack my bag, Gale—drive home and see if Liam still wants me."

Gale exhaled in a rush. When he spoke again, it was laced with warmth. "Of course he does. He's mad about you, in case you haven't noticed."

This time, the flutter between my ribs felt a lot like hope. "Even if I might have broken his heart?"

"You kind of broke your own, too," Gale said softly. "Time to pick up the pieces and glue them back together, don't you think?"

I aimed for a smile and didn't quite get there, the thick swirl of nerves and anticipation too heavy a weight. "When you wrote that message—were you trying to kick me into action?"

He hesitated for a second. "Liam is miserable. So are you."

"Not going to fight you on that," I said, and when he replied, a smile showed in his voice.

"Go get your man."

"I intend to."

And I had the whole drive to figure out just what it was that I wanted to say.

* * *

The gatestill slid open automatically. So they hadn't locked me out yet.

I drove into the compound, Lila the Drone zooming above me, and got out of the car. The thud of the driver's door set a counterpoint to the quiet evening, light already dimming on the eastern edge of the sky. Their security system would have alerted them to my presence, so I leaned back against the hood and waited even as my skin crawled with the anxious desire to see Liam now, now, now.

When the front door opened, I shot upright.

Oh—Laurie. My pulse tripped over itself, then steadied even as she stared at me with her arms crossed, brows pulled together into a dark frown. "You are an utter twat," she informed me.

I nodded. "Yeah. But I need to see him anyway."

"And why the fuck would I let you do that?" she asked.

"Thank you, Laurie." Liam's voice floated to us from further inside the house, and something in me tugged loose. "I'll take it from here."

She didn't budge as she glanced over her shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I am." He sounded closer now, and when I caught my first glimpse of him, it was like water rushing in my ears. He looked…God. Beautiful, because he'd always be beautiful to me, but he also looked tired and drawn, like he'd maybe even lost a bit of weight.

And it was my fault.

With a put-upon sigh and a warning glare at me, Laurie stepped around her brother to head back into the house. She pulled the front door shut behind her, leaving us alone in the front yard. I barely noticed her departure, too focused on Liam. Even in a crowded room, you're the only one I see.

"Liam." Just that—just his name. It was all I could think to say.

"Adam." He pressed his lips together, assessing me. I knew I looked just as bad as he did, the dark circles under my eyes evidence of too little sleep and too much time spent thinking about him. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to…" I needed to see you. I need you. "I need you to take better care of yourself."

His chin firmed. "Pretty sure you lost the right to tell me that when you walked out on me."

"I know." I inhaled and took one small step forward, towards him. "But I really need you to take better care of yourself."

He closed his eyes for a second, a barely noticeable quiver to his mouth, and oh God, I just…I wanted to reach for him, but I didn't think I was allowed. His shoulders rolled back as he fixed me with a hard stare. "Fuck off, Adam."

Just like the last message he'd sent—except his voice was rough and desperate, like he didn't really believe in what he was telling me. I bit the inside of my cheek, then shook my head. "No."

"And why the hell not?" He blinked away a wet sheen to his eyes. "You did such a good job the first time."

"It damn near killed me." I rubbed at my forehead, voice dipping low because yeah, it had. "Like—Jesus, Liam, I probably stared at you for a fucking hour before I made myself move."

He didn't say anything for several seconds. Then—"You're still wearing it."

What? Oh, the bracelet. I didn't even notice it anymore.

I tried for a smile and took another tiny step towards him. The evening sun cast long shadows onto the area in front of the Morgans' home. "I haven't taken it off since you gave it to me."

"No. No." He crossed his arms, a stubborn shadow falling over his face. "You don't get to do this, Adam. I fell so fucking hard for you. Even though I knew there was a snowball's chance in hell you'd love me back, I still fell so fucking hard for you. You don't get to mess with my head like this. If you're not going to stay?—"

"I'm not going anywhere," I cut in.

"And why the fuck should I believe you?" It came out harsh, but there was an underlying ache to it.

I dropped my arms by my side. "Remember when you told me you made a choice, and it's me? Well, I made a choice, too."

His eyes were wide and so, so blue. "What choice?"

"Isn't it obvious?" My stomach was knotted up, heart trying to hammer a path out of my chest. "You, of course. I choose you."

"And why should I believe you?" The same question as before but quieter now—less combative, a hint of desperation woven into the words. I met his gaze and drew a breath that tasted like salt even though we were nowhere near the sea, golden evening light clouding my vision.

"Because I'm really quite in love with you."

His chest rose. "But," he said, almost a whisper, "you walked away."

"I was wrong." Another step towards him, and another. "I thought I had to, I thought it was better for both of us. But I was wrong."

"Nothing's changed, though. Has it?"

I reached for his wrist and curled loose fingers around it, reached for him with my magic too and wound it around his other wrist. He let me.

"You collapsed," I said, and even now, it still made my world grind to a halt for just an instant. "You collapsed, and I wasn't there. I—It scared the hell out of me. I'm not going to lose you."

He studied me, his pulse fluttering under my fingertips. "I'm okay. Although there's something…I need to ask you something. Later."

"Okay." I swallowed. "Can I kiss you?"

For a moment, he didn't reply, his entire attention focused on me. Then, slowly, he nodded, and my rib cage cracked open.

I pulled him into me, our bodies coming together like a meeting of two waves—my mouth on his, his mouth on mine, a waterfall in my head and radiant silence in my chest. I almost lost you. The thought flickered and faded because I hadn't, I hadn't. His fingers dug into my waist, drawing me impossibly closer. My feet between his, our legs slotted together.

Applause startled us apart.

Liam turned his head to shout, "Piss off!"

Jack whooped in response, Laurie calling, "Get a room!" They were hanging out of a window on the first floor, matching grins on their faces. Taking their cues from their brother, I supposed—if Liam had forgiven me, it was good enough for them. Although I fully expected a stern warning from Laurie in the near future.

"Come home with me?" I asked Liam.

He tilted his head. "Home?"

"The flat," I clarified. I wasn't sure when that had become my reference for home, much more so than my family's manor. Around the time Liam's things had started finding their way there, perhaps.

He glanced back at the house, then at me, reflections of evening light caught in his eyes. "All right. Let's get out of here."

"I love you," I told him, simply because I could.

The line of his mouth softened. "I may need a moment to believe that."

"That's all right." I sent my magic down his back in a broad, warm stroke. "I'll be right here to remind you."

"I may need a moment to believe that, too."

I clasped his wrist in a hold that mirrored the bracelet on mine. "We've got time."

Somehow, I believed it. I didn't have all the answers yet—in fact, I didn't have most of them. But I'd chosen him anyway because the alternative was even more unthinkable.

The rest would have to fall in line.

* * *

With the sunbeginning to dip, street lamps already cast their diffuse brightness and outlined Liam's profile. Silence hung between us. It felt bigger than the gap between our seats, further emphasised by the minimal noise of the electric car. Was he having second thoughts? I needed to say something. Usually, I was good at that—knowing what to say and how to say it. Right now, I was stranded without a compass.

"I spent the last three days at the beach house." My voice resonated oddly in the space around us.

Liam glanced over and raised a slightly disdainful brow. "Well, I guess at least one of us was having a good time."

Ah—so I wasn't forgiven just yet. That was fair.

"Not me, no." As much as I wanted to reach out, I kept my hands on the wheel. "I was bloody miserable there. Yeah, it's beautiful, but it just felt…empty and sad, and I couldn't sleep because the waves were too fucking loud, and I almost made two cups of coffee instead of one, and I bought another one of those leather bracelets because I thought, you know, maybe we can be friends one day, and maybe you'll wear it even though you'll be in love with someone else."

For a beat, Liam was silent. "I'm not in love with someone else," he said then.

Which didn't mean he was still in love with me. ‘I fell so fucking hard for you'—he'd said that, hadn't he? Past tense, though. God, I hoped a week hadn't been enough to lose him.

"You would be." I didn't dare to look at him. "Eventually. Because I walked away and you deserve better than that."

Again, he didn't immediately reply. When he did, it was low, a hint rough. "I know why you did it. Doesn't mean it didn't fucking hurt, though."

"I never meant to hurt you." It sounded trite, and accordingly, Liam snorted without much humour.

"Yeah, good job with that."

A red light made me pull to a stop, tail lights of the cars in front of us buzzing under my skin. I turned to face him. "I'm sorry." Still trite. "There's not a second that I didn't miss you."

Briefly, the line of his jaw eased, then it firmed again. "You know what hurt the most?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I knew it would end this way. But I didn't think you'd just run. I didn't think you'd go no contact from one day to the next." His voice dropped. "I thought you'd have the decency to say goodbye."

It was almost exactly what he'd written to me on that horrible morning, after I'd snuck out with the first light of dawn. I'd driven aimlessly for an hour, no destination in mind as the city slowly woke up around me and went about its business as though it were any other day, as though a part of me hadn't just crumpled and died, left behind on the pillow next to Liam's.

"If I had, it wouldn't have been goodbye. Because you might have asked me to stay, and I'm..." Fuck. I swallowed and met his eyes. "I'm so in love with you, Liam. If you'd asked me to stay, I would have. I couldn't risk that."

He slid lower in the seat, the fading light casting shadows over his face. "What about next time?"

"Next time?"

"Next time someone looks at Gale the wrong way, next time your father pushes you to marry Cassandra, next time you have to choose between your family and me."

"I'll choose both."

His mouth twisted in disbelief. "How?"

"I don't know yet." I reached for a smile. "All I know is that I tried giving you up, and myself in the process. I can't do it. I don't want to do it."

"So you'll, what—come out to your dad?" He sounded incredulous, and for a moment, I stumbled over the idea. Could I?

Yes. Not today, perhaps, and not tomorrow either. But I was…God—I was tired. So tired of pretending to be someone I was not.

"Eventually," I told Liam. "It was never fair, asking you to be my secret. So, yes. Just give me some time, please? See if there's a way to first make peace with the Ashtons, and to somehow make sure that Alaric Hartley won't drop us like a hot potato, or even torpedo the Initiative."

The light turned green. We began moving again, traffic flowing around us in an ever-changing constant that carried the comfort of familiarity. I kept my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road, waiting for Liam to say something, anything.

"I'm in love with you, too. In case you didn't know."

Oh. A shot of pure sunlight into my veins, lungs expanding to take what felt like my first real breath in weeks. I chanced a glance at him. "I was hoping you might be."

"Well, I am." Still a trace of defiant unease in his tone, like a part of him wished he wasn't. I could hardly blame him—words were cheap. It was my actions that would have to make the difference.

He'd need time to believe that I would choose him, again and again—that I was willing to make sacrifices for him and us, that I was ready to be true not only to him, but to myself as well.

I was.

* * *

A hintof sweat gathered in the dip between Liam's collarbones. My teeth caught on a nipple.

"I will end you," he began and didn't at all sound like he had the strength to do so, "if you don't stop teasing me."

"Babe." I raised my head for a smirk, his body a play of light and shadows, my fingers lightly pressing into him. A mirror image of what I thought would be our last time, only a week ago. "You know I live for a good challenge."

A tendril of his magic snuck out to brush my cheek. "End you," he repeated, slow and so very soft. It made me blink up at him, my smirk melting into a smile that settled as a gentle glow behind my ribs.

"I believe you," I said—and slid down to swallow his cock at the same time as I pushed two fingers into him. His hips rose off the bed and I choked a little, drew back and pushed him down onto the mattress.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Rude," I told him, grinning.

He chuckled, then exhaled in a rush when I crooked my fingers right as I flattened my tongue against the underside of his cock. This time, he stayed still for me, and I rewarded him with a warm caress of my magic that moved from his throat all the way down his chest, splitting in two to run along the sensitive insides of his thighs and curl around his ankles. His head tipped back into the pillow, body arching just enough to convey a hint of urgency.

"Seriously, though." He sounded almost drunk, eyes on me. "What does a boy have to do to get fucked around here?"

I bit down on another grin. "Sweet nothings like that will go a long way."

"Adam." My name, said almost like a prayer. It made me abandon all thoughts of teasing him. I crawled up the length of his body to kiss him, pressing him into the sheets, covering him up. His arms wound around my back, tight as though he intended to hold on forever. I wanted him to.

This was it. For me, it was him.

Whatever it takes.

* * *

Fried tomatoes with cheese,add some toast—et voilà, dinner sorted. I'd skipped mine, and Liam looked like he could use an extra helping.

He also looked as though, now that the rush was fading, he was having second thoughts about letting me walk back into his life. In a deliciously tight pair of boxers and one of my T-shirts, he was leaning against a kitchen cabinet as he watched me root through the fridge and place whatever seemed appealing on the worktop. His features were tight, eyes clouded over.

No.

"Hey." I closed the fridge door and crossed the small gap that separated us, stepped right into the space between his legs and pushed close. When one of his hands came up to clutch at my waist, the other tangling in my hair, relief bubbled through my veins.

"Hi there." His voice was soft, a faint smile flickering across his lips. I kissed it away before I turned my head to press our cheeks together, simply breathing, our bodies aligned like a mosaic.

"I've got something for you," I told him, and he made a low noise.

"But it isn't even my birthday."

"Like that'll stop me." I brushed a feathery kiss against the corner of his mouth, then peeled myself away even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. It took me a second to remember where I'd put my remaining spare key to this flat. Cassandra had one just in case, and the other…Right—kitchen drawer. I went to retrieve it, just a naked key without any ornamentation, not even a string looped through its hole.

"Would have gift-wrapped it, but…" I offered it to him along with a smile. "I didn't exactly plan ahead."

He glanced from the key in my palm up at my face, a cautious tilt to his expression. "You know you don't have to, like…prove yourself, right? Not like this."

"Actually," I told him, "I do. But that's not why."

"No?" He didn't sound like he believed me, and when I pressed the key into his hand, he was reluctant to grasp it.

"No." I closed his fingers around the key, my own hand cupping his. "This feels like our flat more than mine now. So you should have a key."

He studied me for a long moment, then his face softened, a new light in his eyes. "Okay. Thank you."

I leaned in, nudged his mouth open with mine. We lost a few minutes like that—kissing in my kitchen, velvet night outside the windows and my heart beating slow and steady in my chest.

We didn't talk much while I got dinner ready, Liam still quieter than I was used to. Well, if time was what he needed, I could be patient. We took the plates out to the balcony, the food certainly not gourmet but perfectly nice and simple, melted cheese dripping onto toast that was on the right side of crispy. A portable table lamp cast Liam's features in a warm, gentle glow. He was so fucking beautiful it hurt.

After a few silent bites, he pushed his plate away and fixed me with a heavy look. "There's something I've got to ask you."

His serious tone tugged at the pit of my stomach, appetite draining at once because yeah, no. I got it. And I didn't have all the answers—nowhere near. All I knew was that I wouldn't give him up again.

"Shoot," I said softly.

"You said the alliance with the Blanchards was off the table."

The…alliance with the Blanchards? It was so far off what I'd expected that I needed a second to reply. "As far as I'm aware, yes. I haven't heard anything about it for months."

"I met Isabelle Blanchard. She was visiting the Southwark construction zone with your father, Eleanor, and Gale."

"She was?" I put down my cutlery and sat back in my chair. Fuck—so Liam had met her. But she had no way of knowing who he was—they weren't even related. And no one knew about Nan Jean, so…Okay, this was not a problem.

"Why would she be interested in the Green Horizon Initiative?" I asked, then gave an answer myself, thoughts bouncing around my head. "Unless they're trying to pitch something similar to the French government. But I doubt they'd get the mandate given…You know. Co-destroying a UNESCO World Heritage building."

"I think…" Liam's hesitation was palpable, and he took another beat to study me. Then something in him seemed to soften. "I think there's something wrong with your family's energy towers."

He hadn't called them penises. Unease twisted through my gut. "What do you mean—off?"

"They're…" He didn't finish and instead shook his head. "I better show you."

In my head, a dozen questions bumped up against each other. I sat with them for a moment before I let them go, at least for now.

"Okay," I said simply.

* * *

It waspast eleven when we left the building, tiredness hanging in a faint haze around me. The streets were quiet but not deserted at this hour, and halfway through the ten-minute walk to the Covent Garden site, I reached over and took Liam's hand.

He missed half a step, then caught himself. His voice was low. "What if someone sees?"

"Let them." I sounded far braver than I felt, but I'd chosen him. The rest needed to fall in line.

Without a word, he squeezed my fingers. When I glanced over, a quiet smile played around his lips, and suddenly I almost wished we would run into someone who knew me, us. Can you believe it? Adam Harrington, holding hands with another guy—with Liam Morgan, at that. Saw them myself. It would send the rumour mill into overdrive and force me to take a stand.

A strong breeze made a newspaper page dance across the road. We passed several theatres with neon signs and posters that advertised the latest plays, a sudden cluster of people spilling onto the road after a show. Liam shot me a sideways glance that made me wonder if he expected me to let go. I didn't.

We turned a corner. The construction site was just a couple of minutes further, veiled from the eyes of the public. The closer we got, the more reluctant Liam seemed, his steps halting, until I pulled him to a complete stop.

"What's wrong?"

"You don't feel it?" he asked.

"Be less concrete, I dare you." I kept my voice light and teasing in deliberate contrast to the wariness I sensed from him.

"It's like…" He paused. "It's like there's a wrong taste in the air. I wasn't sure it would be the same here—same as at the Southwark site—but it is."

A wrong taste?

I sent my magic ahead, letting her swoop out like a net that registered anything of relevance—the smouldering embers of a discarded cigarette in a bar's ashtray, the lingering heat of a roof terrace barbecue. Nothing unusual for a summer night.

Slowly, I shook my head. "I don't feel it, no. Might be your special brand of magic?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. It's…" Liam sighed. "Easier to show you, like I said. It's just that I think maybe that's why I collapsed this afternoon. So I'm not too keen on another taste."

"You think—" I broke off and tried to align my thoughts. Tiredness made them stick together like the wet pages of a book. "The energy tower, right? You said there's something wrong with it. And you think that's the reason you collapsed?"

He lifted one shoulder and looked away. "I know it sounds strange."

"Babe." I let warmth seep into my tone. "Your magic is unlike anything I've seen. If you tell me there's a weird taste in the air and something is wrong with my family's energy towers? I'm listening."

"Oh." His tone carried a note of surprise, as though the idea of being taken seriously in the magical community still hadn't quite sunk in. We were alone on the pavement, so I ducked in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Come on, let's take a look. The moment you feel faint, we get the hell out of there."

He raised his chin and rolled his shoulders back, then nodded. "Yeah, all right."

Nighttime London felt slow around us as we kept moving—a few cars, a laughing couple walking the other way. The canvas veiling the construction site fluttered in the breeze. After a light squeeze, Liam dropped my hand as we reached the site. I thought about protesting, but with security cameras covering the entire area, well, maybe that was taking it a step too far. We should decide on a plan before the truth slapped my father in the face.

I used my key card to get us into the site. It had been just over a week since I'd last visited, the risk of running into Liam keeping me away. Even just that amount of time was enough to see visible progress. Buildings were starting to rise from the ground, and they'd finished shaping a murmuring brook that meandered through the space, collecting rainwater for a soothing vibe.

At first glance, the energy tower looked no different—but next to me, Liam had gone tense. I wound a thin tendril of my magic around his wrist, interwove the fire's warmth with a faint, cooling touch of water. He relaxed slightly. We didn't speak as we moved a few steps closer, into a spot where a small group of hedges and trees hid us from the closest camera.

"All right," I whispered. "So, show me what's wrong with it?"

His fingertips came to rest against my palm. Just like he'd taught me, I let my gaze go soft and focused on the tower.

It…

Christ. Thick branches of magic lashed at the air. It felt like a panther, throwing itself against the iron bars of a cage as it tested its strength.

"What the fuck is that?" My voice came out as a hoarse mutter.

"Yeah." Liam withdrew his hand, and the blazing tangle of colours vanished from sight even though it remained bright in my mind. "That's what I thought."

I sucked in a breath that tasted metallic. "This isn't fucking right, Liam. It should not look like that."

He nodded faintly. "Let's move, please? It's a bit—I'm not about to collapse, I don't think so, but it's a lot to take in."

"Of course."

We didn't speak as we made our measured escape and remained silent for another minute, Liam seeming eager to put a little more distance between the site and us. Only once we turned a corner and then another, directing our steps towards the Thames, did I dare break the silence.

"Do you still feel it?"

"Not so much anymore." This time, he was the one who reached for my hand, slotting his fingers into the gaps between mine. "And I've been thinking."

"Don't make it a habit, is what Laurie would say." It was a weak attempt to lighten the mood, to counteract the tight clench of my chest that told me this was wrong.

Liam shot me a smile."Yeah, she would. But…Adam, your family is behind the original concept for the Green Horizon Initiative. It was their idea."

"That's what Alaric Hartley told Cassandra, yes." I frowned. "Why?"

"What if they're…I don't know." Liam shook his head, a hint of frustration edging his tone. "What if there's an ulterior motive? Like, these towers, they just seem so wrong. Like they're about to blow. What if they were intentionally designed like that for some reason?"

I squashed the impulse to defend my family—both, wasn't it? I'd chosen both them and Liam, and this was my chance to prove that I wouldn't fall right back into old patterns. So I tried to sort through the pieces of what I knew.

My family pulling strings to launch the Initiative. The energy tower looking as though it might burst at the seams with all the magic it contained. Those towers—they'd been the first step when we'd designed the areas, everything else coming together around them. They'd been priorities in the construction process too and that made sense—the sooner they were functional, the less we'd have to rely on other sources of energy.

What other purpose might they serve?

"If there's one thing my family is scared of, it's looking vulnerable." It felt as though I was feeling my way along a dark hallway. "It's their worst nightmare—everyone learning that there's just one powerful mage in my generation, and that our magic may be dwindling."

Liam's profile was edged in bronze by a streetlamp, tension in the curve of his mouth. "Well, there's hardly an easy solution to that, is there?"

We crossed the road that separated us from the river promenade and leaned against the wall. City lights reflected on the water, The Shard rising on the other side of the Thames as an angular, luminous silhouette against the nighttime sky.

"If there were, my father and Eleanor would have found it already." I met Liam's eyes and let one corner of my mouth lift in a half-formed smile. "Other than the rest of my generation taking a leaf out of your book and suddenly going Nova, that is."

"I'm a Sun," he corrected almost absently.

"A Sun of four elements. In my book, that's a similar amount of power you wield."

"Maybe. But the point is, how does that relate to those towers?" He watched me, confusion evident in the line of his frown. I let my gaze skim over the water and tried to make sense of it all.

What else? Right, so Isabelle Blanchard had visited one of the sites today, or maybe more than one. Why? What was her interest? And wait, hang on—how had the book put it in its introduction on the Blanchard family? Rumours of an artefact, a hidden wellspring of their considerable powers. Ley lines, if my father was to be trusted.

If Isabelle Blanchard truly knew how to tap into the ley lines…If they were the source of the Blanchards' powers…

Our energy towers incorporated all four elements. They formed an equilateral triangle.

Jesus.

"What if—" I cut myself off and looked around us. The road was still fairly busy with traffic, a few late stragglers walking past us on the promenade, but no one paid us any mind. I lowered my voice regardless. "What if Isabelle Blanchard told my family how to boost our magic by drawing from the ley lines?"

Liam tilted his head and raised one uncertain shoulder. "Why would she do that? If it's true, that's the kind of knowledge that defines the whole fabric of their power. Hardly the kind of thing you casually share over a cup of tea. Or a slice of baguette, whichever."

"I don't know. I don't know." But I could venture a guess. "Not money—they're too wealthy to sell out priceless information. A grab for more power, maybe?" I wasn't sure how this could possibly help, though, so—unlikely. "Or revenge. Getting the final upper hand over the Duvals."

Liam made a low noise. "Or what if their ability to tap into the ley lines got cut off somehow? Because of what happened to Notre Dame, maybe. And now they're looking for alternatives."

Fuck. The pieces lined up, didn't they? Dad and Eleanor's trip to Paris, the likely initial placing of the Initiative's concept and the identification of the three sites, our pitch that revolved around the energy towers. And Liam. A French ancestry that fed from the ley lines, and suddenly his magic increased by multitudes, as though his body was more attuned than most to those sources of power.

I rested both elbows on the river wall and closed my eyes for a second to calm the buzz inside my head. Stop. Breathe.

Something nagged at me.

Ley lines. Lines. The angular lines of The Shard. The Shard was near our Southwark site. Southwark, Finsbury, Covent Garden. Angles. Triangles.

An equilateral triangle.

The Green Horizon Initiative formed an equilateral triangle around St Paul's Cathedral.

Ley lines.

I opened my eyes and turned to Liam. "Pull up a map."

His eyebrows pinched but he didn't ask, simply got out his phone and tapped to open a corresponding app. He tilted the screen so we could both watch the map zoom in on where we stood. The little blue dot, that was us.

I shifted closer, reassured by the steady pressure of Liam's shoulder against mine. "Zoom out, please."

He did. I'd studied our model for the Initiative so often that I could have recreated it blindly.

"St Paul's Cathedral." I drew a line from there to the nearest site and kept going, moving the map until— "Kensington Palace. Ley line number one."

Liam went very still next to me. Me, I felt like I was about to burst at the seams, held together by near-translucent skin.

"Next one." I returned to St Paul's and drew a second line, just bypassing The Shard to hit our residential area, and continuing on to…"The Royal Greenwich Observatory. Line number two. And then…" Back to St Paul's, and to the site in Finsbury. I followed the direction farther, and farther. Nothing. No, there had to be something I'd missed. I moved back and started again. Clissold House? Too insignificant. Bruce Castle? Museum. Grade 1 listed sixteenth century Manor House. "Bruce Castle," I said quietly. "Number three. An equilateral triangle with St Paul's at the heart of it."

I dropped my hand and looked at Liam. He looked back at me, eyes wide.

"Ley lines," he said.

"Yeah."

"And those energy towers..." He blew out a breath. "You think they're like sockets?"

"Sockets?" I repeated blankly.

"Like, if you picture the ley lines as an electrical grid, right?" One of his hands fluttered in a vague arch. "So they zip and zap energy across the globe, and here and there, people have figured out how to install a socket."

"Yeah, baby, speak engineer to me." My amusement faded almost immediately. "But why three? If it's about…God, I don't know. Plugging into the ley lines somehow—why three?"

"I don't know." Liam sounded about as lost as I felt. We stared at each other, my thoughts twisting this way and that. I couldn't fully make sense of things yet, still felt like I was missing crucial pieces of the puzzle. How? But if Gale's magic really could see a boost…

A boat passed on the river, its lights leaving streaks of colour in my mind. Orange and blue and white and green. The elements as seen through Liam's eyes. Did Isabelle Blanchard have the same ability?

"Do you think that Isabelle Blanchard can see magic the way you can?" I asked.

"I have no idea." Liam's voice was tentative, and I'd been so caught up in my spiralling thoughts that I hadn't even realised…Shit.

"They don't know about you." I reached for him with both a hand and my magic, drawing him close. "Even if she can—it would take a leap to realise what it means. And another leap for her to go running to the Duvals. Who may be beyond caring, at this point."

"Fuck, Adam." Liam sagged into me, tiredness coating the words. "When did my life turn into…I don't even know. This."

"Around the time you rained on my parade by competing for the Green Horizon Initiative?" I suggested gently, wrapping an arm around his back to bring him even closer. God, I loved him. Right now, that was just about the only thing I knew for sure. Everything else was a spinning kaleidoscope.

His chuckle was slightly halting, a hint overwhelmed. "Yeah, sounds about right. What are we going to do? I'm still—I don't know how it all fits. But with all those nightmares I keep having, and I know it's your family, but what if they…This is powerful magic they're messing with, and it feels wrong."

It looked wrong, too.

"First things first. We"—I buried my nose in his hair—"will get some sleep. It's been a fucking awful week?—"

"And whose fault is that?" he cut in, humour blended with a subtle hint of lingering hurt.

"Mine. And I won't repeat that mistake." I exhaled, inhaled. "I'm here, and I'm all in."

He was quiet for a beat, then he raised his head to look at me, night shadows catching in his eyes and voice. "I believe that you believe that."

Trust still pending. Yeah, I got it. So I kissed him—right there on that public promenade, one hand in his hair and the other flat against his back, his taste familiar and warm. "Get it!" a hooting group of teenagers commented in passing, and we pulled apart, breathless laughter on my tongue even though none of this was a laughing matter.

"Let's go home," I told Liam, "and get some sleep. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."

"We will?" He sounded desperate to believe me, so I smiled and pushed my own confusion and questions aside, infusing my voice with certainty.

"We will."

* * *

Liam's nightmarejolted me awake.

His breath came out in a gasp, his arm clenching around my chest like a vice. He shifted uneasily behind me, neither away nor closer, just restless. I twisted to look at him in the golden slant of morning light that angled into the room. His features were tight with discomfort, an unhappy pull to his mouth.

"Liam."

He hissed in a breath and buried his face into the pillow.

"Hey," I tried again. "Liam. Babe."

Nothing.

I touched his shoulder. His eyes snapped open, startled and confused, slowly focusing on me as the fear ebbed away.

"Another nightmare?" I asked, voice pitched low to fit the quiet air around us.

"Yeah." He rolled onto his back and sighed. I tucked myself up against him and we lay like that for a minute, breathing together.

God, I'd thought I'd lost this.

"I think your family is playing with fire," he said then.

I raised my head along with an eyebrow. "Pun intended?"

"Obviously." A brief smile flitted across his face before he sobered. "But really, Adam. If they're trying to transplant something that may work in Paris to London…That just seems like a bad idea. And you saw what that tower looked like."

"I did." Powerful magic testing its boundaries. I blinked the memory away. "And I think you're right. They're…desperate, in a way. Protecting our family has become an obsession of sorts, especially for my father and Eleanor. And with me reluctant to fulfil my assigned role…"

Par-for-the-course guilt pulled at me. I did my best to stamp it out.

"It's your life," Liam told me with quiet emphasis.

"I know. I know." My voice caught. "But knowing and believing aren't necessarily the same. I've been raised under the weight of all those expectations, and shaking them off isn't as simple as…As brushing some dust off my shoulders."

"How can I help?"

"By being here. With me."

His fingers wound into the hair at the nape of my neck for a gentle tug. "I am."

Briefly, I closed my eyes. "Thank you."

He didn't reply, but the way his arm tightened around me was all the reassurance I needed. I tangled our legs, dropped my head on his shoulder, and tried to reach for a few more minutes of sleep even as reality filtered in through the cracks in my mind.

* * *

"Good morning, sir."Our butler welcomed me as soon as I set foot into the manor, his tone the epitome of professionalism. His features, however, betrayed a hint of unease. "You are expected in the drawing room."

Was I?

I held my tongue and straightened my back to project confidence. "Of course. Thank you, Mr Davies."

He inclined his head as I changed course and crossed the foyer, my steps echoing hollowly on the marble floor. I'd never noticed how quiet the manor was until the Morgans' home taught me to expect music, voices, and general commotion all throughout the day. Even the nights weren't silent—Jack often stayed up late to fiddle with pieces of code, and Liam's dad struggled with insomnia that had him wander into the kitchen some nights.

The door to the drawing room was open, and I entered without knocking. Rain lashed against the tall windows, a thunderstorm warning issued for later in the day. My father, aunt, and uncle were all seated around the fireplace and turned at my entrance.

Silence stretched like rubber as I walked into the room. I kept my expression easy and pleasant, draping myself in an outer appearance of calm. Well—how convenient that they wanted to talk to me. I wanted to talk to them, too.

"Please sit down." My father's voice brooked no room for contradiction.

I considered standing my ground, then decided against it. The battle lay elsewhere, and if I wanted to get a better sense of their plans, I needed to strike the right tone. "With pleasure," I said as I sank into the indicated armchair. "To what do I owe the warm welcome?"

Sarcasm might not be my best choice.

Dad's gaze sharpened. "Tell us about Liam Morgan."

Fuck. I hoped the momentary flash of shock hadn't shown on my face. "Water mage. Oldest of three siblings." My tone was as guileless as a new-born lamb. "Some five years ago, he came up with?—"

"What do we not know about him?" my father interrupted.

Deep breath. You know his tricks, I reminded myself. He taught them to you. This is just him fishing. Keep it simple, don't elaborate where there's no need.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said.

"I believe you do." He rose from the sofa, towering above the rest of us while my aunt and uncle were calmly watching. "All those times he shared your bed, and you mean to tell me there's nothing unusual you noticed about him?"

My world screeched to an absolute standstill.

How did—fuck. Just fishing? No. No, this was more—there'd been no doubt in his tone, not even much of a reproach, really. ‘All those times he shared your bed.' How…Cassandra? Gale? No. Neither of them would give us up—I didn't know much, but that I did know. Fire pulsed through my veins.

I didn't reply—neither denied nor confirmed it, simply straightened my back, pressed my lips together, and waited.

Something might have betrayed my surprise, though, because Eleanor gave a sharp, biting laugh. "Honestly, Adam. Your lack of discretion is astounding. Most mages with leanings like yours, they know how to take care of things quietly. You, however? Oh, no. You just had to take a lover and shack up with him in your city flat."

In my…

My flat. With a doorman who'd seen Liam come and go so many times.

"You're spying on me?" I dropped all pretence of a calm, collected attitude. "How fucking dare you? I've done just about anything you ever asked of me." My attention swivelled to my dad. "I show up when I'm told, I make nice with the right people, I've staged so many moments to make the others look more powerful than they are. And now there's this one thing I want for myself?—"

"The hold-up of your formal engagement to Cassandra Hartley is an embarrassment," my father began, and no, okay, I'd had it.

"Cassandra doesn't want to marry me either!"

The last time I'd interrupted my father, I'd washed up at a hole-in-the-wall pub trying to drown my sorrows. This time, he stared at me for an endless second that twisted through my intestines. Then he sighed as though I was a burden he'd never asked for.

"Thank you for the clarity, Adam."

I waited for the rest. Nothing came. "That's it?" I asked once silence started to weigh on the room. "‘Thank you for the clarity'?"

"I've learned not to count on you," he said, open resignation in his voice. "It's been a slow and painful process, but here we are."

It hurt. It fucking hurt. Maybe I should have expected it, but it turned out that a stupid, naive part of me had still believed in miracles. Toughen up, honey.

"I'm your Plan A," I said faintly, feeling my way along unfamiliar terrain as I kept my attention on my father. "If I walk out this door now, it leaves the others vulnerable. You won't be around forever."

"Good thing we made alternative plans," my uncle spoke up for the first time. I glanced at him, then at Eleanor, and back at my father.

"Alternative plans?" I asked, aiming for defiance.

My father assessed me with a narrow look, his expression as grave as his voice. "Tell us about Liam Morgan."

So this was what it came down to.

My words were as steady as the beating of my heart behind my ribs—hard, yes, but sure and regular. "Water mage," I started. "Oldest of three siblings. Some five years ago?—"

"Get out." Sharp like a whip, no discernible emotion on my father's face.

I rose from the armchair. Head held high, I refused to look at anyone other than my dad. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Highly unlikely," Eleanor stated with the kind of confidence that grated along my teeth.

"I wasn't talking to you," I told her.

Ten seconds passed—I counted them out in my head, and really, I shouldn't have been surprised. My father was a proud man.

I nodded and turned to leave.

It was only once I was out of sight in the hallway that my knees suddenly buckled, a high tide rising behind my eyes and threatening to pull me under. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand and waited until it passed.

I made a choice. Whatever it takes.