Page 96 of Fatality on the Field

This is the worst day ever and it just keeps getting worse with every passing minute.

fifty-seven

IGNATIUS

There are now twenty-three platters out in our VIP suite, which I know because I counted them as the chef put them out and Morgana grew more frustrated. We have brisket squares with spicy aioli, mushrooms stuffed with foie gras, and even little ramekins of something that looks like dessert but I haven’t identified yet. It’s artful as hell, but if it’s the same in all the boxes, it’s certainly wasteful. I admire our chef’s dedication to trying to find something that makes the dean smile, though. The guy has been putting out so many varied dishes in an effort to please her, that it’s probably making the situation worse and he doesn’t know.

I, however, am enjoying eating like a king, so I’m not going to tell him.

Everyone in the room is talking all at once right now, so I’ve claimed a post next to the brisket to scan the room. Of course, because my brain is both my greatest asset and my worst enemy, I immediately start categorizing the melee while I worry about things that could happen from now until the rest of the game finally concludes. I’ve been doing that a lot since the poison boxes incident earlier in the week, because I feel like imagining wild possibilities isn’t being done enough.

Morgana is dead center in the action, locked in conversation with Jolene, Boone, and Channing in the front row. Slade is talking with Benjy and the redheaded one, Doyle, his laugh low as the Irishman gesticulates wildly. Lucas and Liam are by the window, silhouetted in the half-light as they actually watch what’s going on down on the field. I don’t think the prince gives a shit about the pre-game highlights, but the bear is enjoying it, so Liam’s soaking up his golden boy enthusiasm with a fond expression.

I get sidetracked from my people watching when the doc comes over with his mate, jerking his chin at the food. Nodding, I point to the brisket specifically and lean against the wall as they make plates. The two of them turn back to me, looking much more peaceful than they did earlier in the week. No surprise there, but since they didn’t mention their mate is an unemerged supe who can’t overhear the kinds of things we’d like to talk about with them, I’m okay with waiting for our guests to speak first.

“So… We were right about the gals getting along, huh?”

Arching a brow, I look at the bespectacled doctor wryly. “Especially because we can’t talk about anything of substance. That’s unfortunate and I have no idea how you all manage it.”

The vet chuckles and points at their unknowing mate, indicating the weird glasses she put on after they got settled. They’re not sunglasses and not regular glasses, but something in between, the lenses just a little too large, the frames the kind of iridescent that changes depending on your angle but never quite matches anything. I’m willing to bet my favorite tie that nothing about those contraptions is normal.

I take another brisket square and when Presley glances my way, I arch a brow. “What are those for?”

Presley’s eyes follow my own, and his mouth twitches like I’ve surprised him in a math problem. “The glasses?” he asks. “I hoped you’d be able to see whatever magic is on them. We haven’t had any luck, but none of us are mages.”

“I sense the distortion,” I say, “and I know a magical dampener when I see one. But I haven’t been able to suss out the source as yet. I assumed you guys made them so you could keep her safe somehow, but it sounds like I was wrong.”

Prez looks genuinely pleased for a second and then sobers. “She ‘found’ them the day after we arrived overseas. My magpie just showed up at breakfast wearing them and said she didn’t have a choice. Wolfie, Teddy, and Doyle have tested them a bit trying to figure out their provenance, but we know for certain they work. It kept her safe in the destination we visited through a special door in Scotland.”

There’s a long enough pause that we both look away while I recognize what he means. “You went to Liam’s land with an unemerged supe? Are you insane?” I ask quietly. “The ways that could have gone poorly…”

“She wore them the whole way into each court, Ignatius. It seems her instructions were to only take them off when she showered or slept. Even then, she kept them close so she wouldn’t be surprised. We don’t know who sent them, but you can imagine how hard it was to make sure we didn’t violate any laws there or here.”

Uh, yeah, I can definitely imagine and it’s giving me heart palpitations just thinking about it.

“How much does she know?” I ask, still casual, but my hand is clenched tight around the plate. We don’t need more trouble with the local council or worse, the Society.

Presley’s jaw sets as he sighs. “More than she lets on. Enough to keep herself safe, but not enough to—well. The laws are clear, as you know. Nothing can be revealed until the spell breaks. We’re getting close, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

“That sounds like hell,” I say, and I mean it. “The two of you said weird things are afoot down there and you have to manage that while not explaining the cause all the time. Has to make for interpersonal issues—Morgana would flip her lid if she thought we were hiding things from her.”

Wolfie nods, his expression wistful. “Have you ever spent months living with someone you love and have to hide really important stuff from her, even when it’s a threat? Every time something goes sideways, you cross your fingers that it’ll get sorted out, but the hits keep coming because the universe is laughing.” He glances at Jolene, who’s listening to Teddy’s story about his college antics and laughing in a way that lights up her whole face. “We’ve been at the edge of this for too long and she keeps alllllmost gettin’ there, but it doesn’t come. Our guess is a multiple-sided hybrid like Teddy, but it feels like more’n two.”

I make a noncommittal noise and pick up a ramekin, tipping it so the surface ripples. It’s some kind of custard and I’m not sure if I want to try it or not. “Well, if you need a magical assist, I’ll do my best,” I say, “Mage magic is very different from Fae magic, which is different from whatever your demi can do. Maybe I can do something that makes it easier for you until the enchantment breaks? I’m always game to give it a try.”

“Good to know, Professor,” Prez says with a rueful smile. “But given that we’ve identified a shifter and a Fae part—we think—and we have no idea what else is coming, I’m not sure that’s a good plan. Hell, I’m not even sure about the glasses, but we had to give it a try.”

I look at the food spread again and then at him. “What’s it like having to… share her with all the others?”

The Fae leans in a bit, dropping his voice low as he chuckles. “I see. You and the dragon are on the outside, which is why you split off so often. Didn’t play well with others at the start, hmm?” He straightens, flips his hair, and adds, “Doesn’t look like it’ll be long, based on the tenor of your group. At least, that’s what I’m picking up on and I won’t add to that because it’s rude to go deeper.”

The implication is not subtle, though, because his eyes fall on Slade. “It’s complicated.”

We all watch the chattering groups for a beat, letting the wall of noise from the rest of the suite take over as that statement settles. I notice Jolene laughing at something Morgana says, her whole body language open and loose. Whatever spell is on her, it’s not stopping her from enjoying life. She’s not nearly as tense as I’d assume, nor even close to how anxious our family is.

Not knowing about impending danger and larger plots must make it a lot easier to enjoy the moment.

Presley watches the same scene and I see the lines at his mouth go soft. “She’s doing fine, even though frustration flares up occasionally. The Hollow is… difficult to navigate at times, but those of us who are in the circle are bonding well and our mate is as happy as she can be.”