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Havily would have responded but words wouldn’t leave her lips. She wondered if she might have permanent brain damage from all the ways Endelle had invaded her mind trying to get her to understand the skill.
But it was Marcus who stepped in front of Her Supremeness and said, “Maybe it’s the goddamn teacher.”
Endelle lifted a hand, surely to strike him dead.
Havily even rose to a sitting position, her mind spinning wildly, her hands outstretched as though ready to stop the slaying, but Marcus smiled and dipped his chin.
Endelle, much to Havily’s surprise, started to laugh.
“How about we try again after lunch,” Marcus suggested.
“Fine,” Endelle barked.
Havily didn’t want lunch. She wanted to crawl under a rock. And never return. Her head ached as though someone had moved a boulder inside her head, then sat on it, was still sitting on it, was jumping up and down on it.
A soft knock on the door, then Alison entered. “Lunch is ready. Anyone hungry?” Her timing was perfect, which Havily suspected wasn’t mere happenstance.
Her gaze fell on Havily and her eyes widened. As though she always did so, she crossed the room and put a hand on Havily’s forehead. Havily gasped because it felt as though sheets of warm water spilled through her brain and eased her, eased her. The boulder disappeared along with the six-foot-five creature that had done all the jumping, thank you very much.
More tears fell, but this time with relief. She felt an arm under her elbow, Alison’s arm. “Come on. I ordered spaghetti with Italian sausage, your favorite.”
“My first meeting is at two,” Havily said as she reached the conference room. She paused on the threshold. She had intended to argue with Endelle about continuing the lessons after lunch, but she was too stunned by the state of the long executive table. There were fresh pink and white roses in a large silver vase in the center. White ceramic bowls, filled with spaghetti and the promised sausage, sat on maroon silk place mats. The smell of the sauce caused Havily’s stomach to set up a dedicated rumbling.
She took a seat next to Parisa in a chair opposite the door. Goblets containing Medichi’s Cabernet label sat above a fork and a large spoon. There were even linen napkins.
Endelle plopped down in a chair next to Marcus. She frowned at the food. “COPASS has set up Parisa’s hearing for tomorrow at one. Can you believe that shit? The same day as the Festival.”
Parisa, who had just taken a sip of wine, choked. “I have a hearing?” she cried.
Endelle rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t concern you. I mean, you have to be there, blah, blah, blah, but basically Greaves and I will square off and we’ll see who wins.” She pointed to herself. “That will be … hello … me.”
Havily glanced at Parisa and tried to catch her eye, to somehow encourage her not to take Endelle too much at her word. Instead the ascendiate set her goblet down and put her hands in her lap.
Havily glanced at Endelle. She wanted to kick some sense into the administrator. The woman had no idea how her flippant, scornful, way-too-casual remarks could be interpreted. On the other hand, assuming Parisa chose to align herself with Endelle, the mortal-with-wings probably needed to get used to Her Supremeness.
Havily used her fork and swirled the spaghetti against her spoon.
“So Greaves will be there?” Marcus asked. “Somehow I thought he played an invisible role here in the Valley.”
Endelle, sitting to the left of Marcus, shoved the empty chair next to her away, leaned back, and angled her legs up onto the table, crossing them at the ankles. The heels of her stilettos looked like a pair of daggers. Havily shook her head. The black-and-white-striped fur had a faint musky odor and slid up her thighs. That and her black leather bustier just didn’t add up to “Supreme High Administrator.”
She shrugged at Marcus’s question then folded a bottle of Dos Equis into her hand, apparently uninterested in the wine. She flicked the lid off with the tip of her finger, which created a spark, then drank deep. Afterward, she belched. What a fine example of womanhood. “Oh, the bastard shows up when it suits him and COPASS suits him.” She turned to Alison, who sat on the other side of Marcus. “I’ll want you to do some empathic surveillance work, take the temperature of the room, see how many more of these freaks he’s turned.”
Parisa once more picked up her wine. She still hadn’t touched her spaghetti. She’d grown very quiet.
Endelle glanced at her then said, “Just so ya know, I have the worst manners on the planet. I have no subtlety and I hope you can get used to it. Thorne said he’s sure I’ve had a couple of strokes given how old I am, which has inhibited normal social screening. I told him to go f**k himself.”
Parisa stared at her for a long moment. “We had a part-time librarian with your attitude. I fired her sorry ass the second day after I got promoted.”
Endelle lifted her brows, her lips parted. She chuckled. “Well, then let’s hope you don’t get promoted over me.” She took a long swallow of beer then released a sigh and another belch, only this time she politely covered her mouth with her hand. “You’ll need to be tough in this world, ascendiate. Just remember that. Ascension ain’t for sissies.”
“No shit,” Alison murmured.
Havily’s gaze shot to her then she laughed. Alison so rarely made use of profanity that when she did, it was always funny because it was always unexpected. Marcus smiled as well.
Endelle pursed her lips. “I know this hasn’t been a barrel of laughs for you, Parisa, but I want you to know that I’ve decided to assign Medichi as your Guardian of Ascension until we can make you safe here. In the meantime, I want you to stay at his villa. We’ll let him sleep the rest of the day; then he’s to stick close to you until you’ve completed your rite of ascension. You do know about all this shit, right?”
“Yes,” Parisa said, her gaze fixed to the untouched pasta. “Havily explained everything to me.”
“Good. And don’t worry, we’ll get all this sorted out at the committee meeting tomorrow.”
Parisa released a heavy sigh.
* * *
After lunch, Marcus leaned an elbow on the mantel of the fireplace on the west wall of Endelle’s office. He looked his woman up and down. She wore a mid-calf gray silk dress and a dappled scarf, tall gray leather heels. Dynamite. And so at odds with the skunk-lady.
What a contrast between the women, at least from a fashion viewpoint. One thing about Havily, she set an excellent tone for the administrative offices.
