“In our line of work, these things tend to happen,” Ashthorne says, reaching for his wine glass.
I accept the explanation without pressing further, though I make a mental note of it.
I can’t think of many reasons my father and Jonathan Ashthorne would choose to spend an evening together.
Much less discuss business.
Let’s not pretend the Thirteen Circle and the Ferrum Syndicate weren’t at each other’s throats until recently.
Something unusual is going on.
Then again, perhaps my father simply saw an opportunity and chose to make use of the truce.
After all, they occupy remarkably similar positions. The only real difference is that one operates in England, while the other does so across the Atlantic.
The conversation resumes and, as expected, revolves largely around their work.
Throughout it all, Piper avoids my eyes.
And I say nothing.
I let her.
After a while, my father seems to remember that Piper and I are also at the table.
“So, Piper, what became of the skating?” he asks. “I understand you competed at the Olympics.”
She looks up and offers a polite smile.
“I did,” she replies. “When I was younger.”
“And you won gold, I believe. That’s a remarkable achievement.”
“I was fortunate.”
“Nonsense,” my father says with a smile. “Olympic gold doesn’t come down to fortune.” He leans back slightly. “And you’ve stepped away from it?”
“For a time,” she says carefully. “I stepped away from competition for a few years. I had considered returning this season, but I haven’t competed enough to secure my place.”
A slight frown appears on my father’s face.
“That may not be the problem you think it is,” he says. “I know a few people in the federation. If you’re serious about returning, there may still be a path forward.”
For the first time since I arrived, she looks genuinely excited.
And the selfish bastard inside me hates that I wasn’t the reason for it.
Fuck.
“Really?” she asks, unable to hide the hope in her voice.
“I’ll have a contact sent over,” my father replies simply. “If it’s something you’re serious about, it would be a shame to let it go.”
“Thank you,” she says, and this time her smile reaches her eyes.
The conversation carries on for a while longer. Eventually, dessert arrives, and not long after, Ashthorne rises from his seat.
“I think we’ll call it a night,” he says. “It’s getting late, and Piper needs to be back at the academy tonight.”
