“Shit,” she breathed. The real world, with its calendars and civic duties, felt like a rude intrusion.
Beside her, Splice stirred. “A problem?”
“I have a meeting,” Goldie muttered. “For the Solstice celebration. I’m… the Herald of the Solstice Flame.”
Saying it out loud made it sound absurd, like she’d forgotten to take off a costume.
“I’m supposed to have done stuff. Historical precedents, a draft speech… I’ve got nothing. Oh shit, and Tamsin! Tamsin asked me to get research. She’s going to be so disappointed in me! Oh, I’m the worst.”
And then—Jonah.
Guilt stabbed, sharp as a thorn. He’d asked her to dinner, and she’d never texted back. Between Ezra’s visit, Splice’s ritual, gods, and visions of murder, her lightning-flash hunger for Jonah felt like it belonged to another lifetime. He was kind. Too kind.
And once he knew about… well. All of this.
She winced, biting her lip. She’d have to find a way to let him down easy. Hopefully.
Splice turned his head toward her, eyes narrowing. “Will the Big Four be there?”
Goldie let out a short, humorless laugh. “I know that the three of them who are still alive will be there.”
“Then you’re not going.” His voice was flat, a low rumble that carried no give.
“Splice.” Goldie gaped at him, incredulous. “Come on. They have no idea I know anything about anything. Hell, I don’t even know if Idoknow anything about anything.”
“I don’t care.” His jaw tightened. “Iknow. And I won’t have you in a position where you might say something you shouldn’t.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you saying I can’t keep my mouth shut? Or that I don’t know how to be subtle?”
He didn’t answer, only glanced toward the sequined throw pillow on the window seat—the one embroidered in glittering silver letters that readI’m Hexy And I Know It.
Goldie flushed. “Icanbe subtle,” she repeated, much less convincingly. “And if I don’t go, everyone will descend on me like nosy municipal pigeons. It’ll be worse.” She shrugged helplessly. “Going is the path of least disaster.”
“I don’t like this,” he said, his subcutaneous vines swirling.
“Well, then, you can come with me,” she shot back. “You can be my… bodyguard.”
His brows rose. “And that’ssubtle?Me, the Thornfather’s Assistant, proxy to the majority owner of the Green Holdings, at your side? Yes. Brilliant plan. If the Land Trustarethe ones we saw in that mnemonic bead, I’m sure they won’t notice whenyou, the person who found the body, show up withme.”
Goldie groaned. “What do you want me to do, then?”
“I want you to stay here, where you will be safe,” he growled.
“That’s not going to happen.” Goldie stood, brushed past him, and stalked to the counter where her laptop sat buried under unopened mail. She yanked it open, dropped back into the window seat, and started typing furiously, panic-Googling anything she could skim in the next ten minutes to look marginally prepared instead of like a woman who’d done absolutely no homework.
“This is actually a golden opportunity,” she said after a moment.
“Really,” Splice said dryly.
“Yes, really.” Her fingers kept flying across the keyboard. “I’m the Herald, which means I can request records—special access, ceremonial precedent, all that. Sure, we’ve got plenty at the library, but I know there’s more buried in City Hall’s archives. Original Land Trust paperwork.” She shot him a glance over the screen. “The file I wanted has probably been checked back insince Truckenham died. Bet it lists the original members. It’d be a start.”
Splice went still for a moment, the annoyance in his posture smoothing into something more thoughtful. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “this could be an opportunity formeto request access to Truckenham’s records. I am, technically, the majority stakeholder’s representative. I could claim it for... procedural review.”
Goldie looked up, and something bright sparked behind her eyes. It was elegant. It was simple. It was—perfect.
“You beautiful bastard,” she breathed. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“The benefits of inheriting a bureaucratic nightmare,” he said dryly.
