She faltered for a moment. “You can feel my heartbeat?” The question was genuine, even somewhat awe-struck.
“I can sense it,” he answered. “Immortals have far more advanced senses than you Magicals.”
She took a sip of her water and made a mocking motion with her hand. “Does the arrogance work well on Immortal women with far more advanced senses than me? Or do they find you as annoying as I do?”
Reeve chuckled. “They don’t find me annoying.” He slid off the barstool and closed the gap between them. A single finger tucked beneath her chin. “And neither do you.”
He dropped his hand at once and left her with flushed cheeks and wide eyes.
Reeve watched her from a distance, where she and her friends sat on the main balcony, sipping his drink as party guests moved around him. He was certain Ambrose was talking. Then the Orator, then Ambrose again, but whatever they had to say had stopped mattering to him the moment he spotted her.
She tossed her head back in laughter as Alphard Mavros scooted closer to her on the settee. She didn’t notice his advance. She never did. Antony and Abraxas were seeing who could drink the most Dragon Whiskey at once while Astrea monitored them.
Antony yanked his bottle from his lips and clutched his stomach. After a groan, he said, “Damnit, Rosethorn.”
Reeve would have to get on him about drinking so much at their next lesson. Lessons that yielded nothing for the young man. Reeve told himself he kept returning that summer for Antony, but he knew that was a lie.
Abraxas finished his bottle and then raised his arms in a celebratory cheer. Maeve and Alphard applauded. Astrea and Abraxas exchanged a whisper.
Antony gasped. “You cheated, didn’t you, Brax?”
Abraxas’ mouth fell open in hurt, but he didn’t deny it.
“My sister made you a little potion to help you win, didn’t she?” asked Alphard.
“Mind your own business, Al,” said Astrea.
Abraxas slapped her on the arm. “Shut up,” he said through his teeth.
The rest of their conversation vanished from Reeve’s ears as Maeve’s eyes landed on his. Her smile didn’t falter.
It blossomed.
His chest tightened.
Ambrose’s voice pulled him away from the beauty with her eyes latched on his.
“Come, Reeve,” said Ambrose with a smile. A smile, Reeve knew, he reserved for politics.
Ambrose didn’t speak again until they were both seated in his study. Reeve knew what was coming.
“Don’t lay a hand on her.”
Reeve anticipated the crack of Magic that would normally accompany such a command, but it never came. Ambrose’s Magic lay calm and still.
Reeve looked up at his friend. The Premier stared at him with unwavering resolve. Reeve maintained his poker face.
“You might be the most powerful of us all,” continued Ambrose, “but when it comes to my daughter, there isn’t a man alive that can slip past me.”
Reeve shook his head. “I don’t want to slip past you.”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have my blessing. Make no mistake, I am aware that there is likely no safer place for her than at your side.”
Reeve relaxed in the chair. “Then what is your reservation?” he asked with a small shrug.
“Is there Magic that grants her everlasting youth and life like you have?”
Reeve was silent. Ambrose pressed further.
