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“We should make reservations for tomorrow, while we’re discussing it,” Kingston said.
“And you?” Kierse asked.
“I read,” Graves said simply.
Ah. Well, that explained why he was always reading. Always regenerating his powers.
“And me?”
“I’m still working on that,” he admitted. “You recovered slower than I would have liked after the wish powder, because I didn’t know how you recharged before we broke into Imani and Montrell’s.”
“Sloppy,” Kingston said.
So many of the pieces were falling into place. The reason it had taken so long to recover from the wish powder was because she had to recharge.
“Speaking of Imani and Montrell,” Kingston said darkly. He rattled the loose ice in the bottom of his empty cup. Kierse realized her drink was gone, too.
Graves grabbed the bottle off of the bar and brought it to the table, refilling everyone’s glasses. “Must we discuss them?”
“They were the ones who let me know about your little project. Though . . . you didn’t inform them she was a new apprentice. In fact, you gave them an entirely different name. Wren?” His expression was knowing. “Montrell had a fit.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Is she a wren?” His gaze swept back to her. “Are you?”
Kierse’s hand went to the pendant at her throat. “Last I checked, I wasn’t a bird.”
Kingston laughed.
But she didn’t know what was funny. Graves had called her “Wren,” and it had gotten a reaction out of them, but she hadn’t realized at the time that it meant more. Was she not the first wren in his employ, then? Something like disappointment was there for a beat, and then she pushed it away.
“It was a name I used to get their attention, and it worked,” Graves snapped at Kingston.
“That it did. And it kept them from looking too carefully for her own magic.”
“Was I required to inform them?” he asked, his voice dripping in bridled anger. He was not one to take orders, and he would not be told how to run his empire.
Kingston just threw back more of the bourbon and laughed. “Of course not, but there’s a balance to things, you know.”
“Yes, and they were disrupting the balance. I put it back in order by reclaiming what was taken from me.”
“They’ll want retribution,” Kingston said.
Graves’s voice turned dark. “Let them try.”
“You are more powerful than both of them. Bloody hell, son, you’re more powerful than every warlock I’ve met, save myself. But you are not invincible.”
“I am well aware,” he said evenly.
“Well, anyway, I came at their behest. My warning has been delivered. I have officially put you back in line,” Kingston said with a chuckle as if he knew that was impossible.
“Did they tell you about their little operation?” Graves asked so low and casual that Kierse could only assume it was a bomb waiting to go off.
“Of course. Of course,” Kingston said, waving his hand. “I know all about the new version of wish powder. Very clever, actually.”
“And that she’s selling it.”
“In Chicago, she is queen.”
“What about outside of Chicago?” Graves asked. “What about here? What about in London?”
Kingston stilled. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“She didn’t want me to tell you about it, but since they sent you to me as reprimand, I see no reason to hold their secrets.”
“What’s wrong with selling it elsewhere?” Kierse asked.
“Magic is more volatile the farther from its owner. And volatile magic threatens all magic users,” Kingston said furiously. “You are one of us now, Kierse, so listen well. Your greatest objective is to keep magic hidden. We are not like the other monsters. The revelation of the magical world can only doom our way of life.”
Everyone was silent a moment as that answer soaked in. There was a reason “monsters not magic” was the motto. Magic was dangerous in its own way. She’d seen it as soon as she entered this strange world.
“Perhaps you should remind Imani of that,” Graves said.
“Believe you me, I will,” Kingston grumbled. Then he waved his glass at Graves again. “Enough business. Tell me everything since I’ve seen you. It’s been too long, and I plan to finish this bottle yet.”
Graves visibly relaxed at the change in topic.
Kierse leaned back in her seat. Maybe having Kingston here was a blessing in disguise, because she was content to sit in the library all night to have him reveal more of Graves’s many secrets.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kierse might have had one or two too many. She startled awake as a blanket was being draped across her shoulders, not having remembered falling asleep on the couch. Graves was still seated, polishing off the last of the bottle of bourbon. Kingston was long gone. The top of her head brushed against Graves’s thigh, the fur of the blanket and his body heating her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, still staring straight ahead.
“It’s fine. I should probably get into my own bed if I don’t want to wake up with a crick in my neck.”
