Page 89 of Fatality on the Field

I exhale, slow and shallow, before I say, “It’s hard for me when it’s shit that’s not in my wheelhouse. Press is normal, sports shit is normal, dressing up is normal. However, I thought I’d left ducking assassins behind once I got on this campus. Plus, now I’m worried about our mate and all you assholes. It’s a lot.”

The siren grins knowingly. “It’s not the game you’re nervous about; it’s everything that can happen during and after that has you all worked up. I can help if you like? A little calming song with a harder push would probably do it.”

He’s not wrong, but I need my edge to stay sharp and observant.

“No, thanks. I appreciate the offer, though. Pretty cool of you.”

Iggy curses softly in Latin, getting our attention as he works to re-button his cuffs. His suit is a deep grey with a tie embroidered with deep red runes. “I love how French cuffs look, but fuck getting them buttoned without help. Slade?”

Morgana rolls her eyes at the mage. “You didn’t even ask, much less say ‘please’. Don’t be a dick, Iggy.”

“I don’t mind,” the siren says as he moves to the mage to help out. “I’m used to Iggy’s ways, Morgana. It’s always in parenthesis, according to him.”

We all assemble in the entryway, lining up like a wedding party that’s got one shot to make it down the aisle without someone breaking an ankle. Morgana scans us once, top to bottom, her expression impossible to read except for the faint, satisfied lift at the corner of her mouth.

“Any last words?” she asks. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Liam offers his arm to her again with an amused look. “Let’s do this.”

She takes it without hesitation, letting him escort her down the porch steps. Kaspar falls in behind them, then Slade, Iggy, and finally me. We look like a murder squad for a very fashion-forward cult. There’s not a person on campus who wouldn’t stare if they saw us, and that’s exactly what was planned.

Morgana turns to the group before we split into separate cars to face the prince. “Li, I know you want to ask. Go ahead.”

He shakes his head and I note the slight puffing of his chest. “Those pearls look fabulous on you. You should always wear things that are beautiful to augment your outfits.”

“I am not wearing royal whatever-the-fuck on a daily basis, no matter how much you flatter me.”

Kaspar turns to Liam, his eyes full of amusement. “You’re lucky the designer survived. She drove me up the fucking wall and then she had to convince Morgana to wear jewelry worth more than a small country’s GDP. It’s a miracle, honestly.”

“Channing intervened twice, otherwise it would have been a bloodbath. If you’re truly interested, that is.” She sucks in a breath and cracks her neck as the rest of us laugh while we imagine it.

“Just get in the car, people,” Liam says as he opens the door for her. “No more putting this off. It’s time.”

Today’s going to be hell, but at least we’ll look good going through it.

fifty-four

MORGANA

If you want to see what a soul leaving a body looks like, you should watch the student forced into an enormous mascot suit just as a stampede of local news, national affiliates, and various influencer parasites breach the perimeter of the stadium’s VIP entrance. There’s a special kind of despair in the way his shoulders hunch inside the costume when he realizes he’s the last barrier between six squadrons of ring-light-wielding camera crews and a space that was clearly not designed for this many egos to bump against one another.

Mental note… have Channing check on anyone doing the mascot thing and how they’re compensated.

My family cuts through the main doors in a swath that’s half pageantry, half threat. The SU PR team’s attempts at crowd control look like someone tried to herd cats with wet lasagna, so we get jostled and shouted at with every step toward the security checkpoint. Somewhere, a whistle blows so loudly it makes my favorite snake hiss. State U security staff in matching parkas block the crowd and start calling VIPs by name to check them in so they can get away from the cameras. The second my name is called, I lead the guys through the crowd like some dude parting a sea.

Liam is at my left and Kaspar stalks at my right, both radiating get-the-fuck-away energy that actually works on people who aren’t powerful enough to shoot their shot. Slade glides behind us with Lucas, the two of them avoiding looking at gathered people entirely. Iggy decided to remain a beat behind them, his glare leveled at any reporter that tries to get past the barriers. My mage is locked and loaded, I bet, ready to dump a magical bucket of water on those who don’t realize we aren’t ready to give statements yet.

Des coils and uncoils on my neck, occasionally tightening like she’s trying to remind me she’d love to intervene. I scratch the back of her head absently, and she flicks her tongue at my finger as if letting me know she, too, is ready to rock. I don’t want to stone anyone with this many bystanders, so I hope I won’t need her or even Iggy’s planned defenses. I just want this damn thing over so I can focus on something more important than a stupid ball game.

Channing meets us as we enter, her hair perfect and tablet clutched to her chest like a shield. Surprisingly, she looks like she was born in a boardroom and raised by hedge fund wolves. Her suit is on point and I guarantee that look is one hundred percent what Jackson Thorne and his boy band insisted on. She slips into step beside me with a look that says the day is already on fire and it’s not even ten a.m.

Not what I was hoping to hear, but not shocking, either.

The first guard barely glances at our credentials. He’s too busy staring at the puffed up dragon at my side. Kaspar gives him a look that would make a lesser man piss himself. We get through with minimal drama, but as the door swings shut behind us, there’s a distinct crackle in the air and a whiff of burnt stench.

“Did you zap that guy?” I murmur to the dragon. “You’re not supposed to do that, you know.”

He grunts, “Only a warning. If I’d wanted, he’d be a stain on this stupid floor. He was too handsy when he searched you.”