Page 60 of Fatality on the Field

There’s an edge in his tone, the kind he only uses when he’s dared someone to disagree with him. Most royals bluff with armies or assassins; Liam does it with a smile and iron resolve to do good in the world. However, we’re accountable to more than his soft heart now; we have a family to protect and a big ass conspiracy to fight. He has to think these things through before he speaks. I’ll talk to him about it later when he’s not being lauded for his kindness, though. No need to ruin the moment.

My ears perk when I hear the unmistakable sound of a water fountain in a life-or-death struggle down the hall. It takes a moment, but Lucas finally appears, his hair even more tousled than before as he balances three hospital pitchers in a death grip. He crosses the recovery room like he’s storming the beaches, depositing a pitcher on the first girl’s side table, and then stands there with the other two, unsure what to do next.

“Just—just holler if you want anything else. I can get snacks, or a nurse, or—” Lucas’s voice cracks. He swallows, then blurts, “I’m just glad you’re okay. I know how scary it is to be in the middle of some huge thing that you can’t control and didn’t ask for. Support from the people around me is how I was able to get through it, you know?”

The girl hiccups, managing a watery smile, and nods. The bear beams, immediately forgetting whatever he was about to say as he makes a beeline for the next bed, offering the water like a peace treaty.

“He’s going to need a sedative when the docs get here, isn’t he?” I ask with a grimace. “The kid is such a good egg that he’s going to burn out all that empathy and emotion within an hour. He’ll drop like a damn stone afterward. Bears are known for it.”

“That’s what we’re here for, Kas. We’ll help him.” Liam’s eyes are on Lucas and I can see how much he cares for the kid written all over his features. “He hates feeling helpless. Being able to physically do something to make these kids feel better, even if it’s small, is how he copes.”

I let that hang for a second and then lower my voice. “The doctors. We can’t let them anywhere near the Court. I just… My dragon has a bad feeling, Li, especially with our new friends from our trip talking about Fae being at that damn meeting talking about rebellion.”

Liam’s lips twitch, the polite version of a smirk. “I had that thought the moment you told me about their miracle, old friend. I don’t trust Alwyn, but I trust those in The Hand even less. This has to stay as contained as possible, lest it worsen the problems here and cause some sort of war at home.”

“That’s why I said what I did about paying. When it lands on the Daybreak ledgers, someone will notice. If they dig deep enough, it’s not just the payment that’s a problem. The story leaks, the connection between the Hollow, the Court, and this gets linked together. It will blow everyone’s cover and bring out the worst in our enemies at home and here.”

“Which is why you’re going to help me bury the invoice in bullshit, right? Just like we did with the Bragstone incident. We need to polish it up and make it seem like nothing to pay attention to, like that wizard behind the drapes in the movie.”

I grunt again, mostly because Morgana made us watch that movie and I found it ridiculous, but somehow applicable now. Still, helping Liam keep his father as far away as possible is part of what I do. “I’ll handle it. But if you want this to stay contained, you have to keep yourself under control. No more broad stroke, wand-waving shit. We can help, but we have to be smarter about it. Got it?”

“Understood.” Li’s voice is crisp, but he leans in, so the words are just for me. “You’ve done exceptionally well making certain our mate’s students, friends, and the like are guarded, Kas. I believe she will appreciate it once she’s out of crisis mode. This is the man I remember before her; it’s who you need to be again to get what you’ve admitted you want.”

I look away, suddenly fascinated by a patch of peeling paint on the doorframe. “It’s what I do, Liam.”

The room is quiet for a minute, the only sound is Lucas's relentless, awkward attempts at bedside manner. The kid is so earnest it’s embarrassing. At the third bed, the student—a guy this time—starts to laugh, weakly but real. Lucas beams like he’s just been told he’s won the lottery, as he pours the kid a cup and bows to him.

I catch the tail end of that interaction and shake my head. “He’s going to be insufferable when we get home. Who knew this kid had this much energy for caretaking, eh?”

Liam follows my gaze. “I did and it’s part of why I took him for my own. His heart is five times the size of his bear and it shows through everywhere we go.”

For a second, we just stand there, side by side, not talking. It’s not awkward at all, because both of us are just existing in the chaos around us. I nod toward the window, feeling something pulling at me. I don’t know what it is, but I need a little air. Turning to Liam, I say, “I’ll get started on the paperwork. You should finish up here; Morgana will be looking for you both soon enough.”

“Is that an order, Kaspar?” Liam’s voice is sly, but there’s something heavier underneath it. “Because I could swear, I make my own schedule.”

I missed interactions like this when we were still suffering from the past; sniping at one another is one of my favorite pastimes.

“More like a suggestion,” I say casually as I shrug. “You can keep your mate waiting all you like, Prince.”

After he finally says good-bye to the kids, Liam heads off down the hall, his stride so smooth he could be floating. I watch him until he rounds the corner and then turn back to see the bear fussing with the blankets again. I want to be annoyed, but I can’t. The guy would run through a brick wall for any of us, and I’d do the same if it was necessary. He just knows these kids don’t have anyone until their parents get contacted and he wants them to feel safe again.

However, there’s work to do and if he distracts them, I can get to it. We have a messy hospital to clean up, secrets to keep, poisons to defeat, and a family to shield from the fallout.

Today, at least, nobody died, so I’m going to call that a win.

thirty-seven

MORGANA

Being in charge of shit never gets easier, no matter how hard you work at smoothing things over. It’s especially difficult when you’re the reason the tiles are cracked, the grout is charred, and there’s a press horde with strobing flashes on the frosted glass doors downstairs like it’s the fucking Oscars. These poor folks at the hospital are overwhelmed in every possible way, so I’m doing my best not to complain out loud as I’m being raked over the coals yet again on a stupid phone call. Rich donors and their even richer friends are acting as if I could have prevented some psycho from sending poison to the school—who plans for that? Not a normal university, that’s for certain, but some jackass with a weird accent has spent at least twenty minutes bitching me out for not having protocols in place that would make the CIA seem paranoid.

Whoever he is, he won’t give his name and is definitely making up his title, because no one goes by shit like ‘The Commandant’ in this day and age.

The screen on my phone is as shattered as my nerves after I threw it during the last call, and I feel my jaw ticking as it always does when I’m going to lose my temper. If I squeeze this thing any harder, it’s going to crumble in my palm. Des has looped herself three times around my left earlobe, which is a sure sign she thinks something is going to go very wrong soon. She’s not wrong; I’m at my wit’s end with these people.

“Sie sind nicht dafür geeignet, eine Führungskraft unserer nächsten Generation zu sein, Dekan LeCiel. Ich werde mich für Ihre Absetzung einsetzen!⁠*”

That makes me want to scream like a banshee on a mission, but I calmly reply, “Hören Sie mir gut zu, Herr Kommandant. Ich weiß nicht, wer Sie sind oder in welcher Verbindung Sie zum College stehen, aber so redet niemand mit mir. Der Letzte, der das getan hat, liegt in zwei getrennten Gräbern – für den Fall, dass man seinen verdammten Kopf findet. Verstehen Sie?⁠*”