Page 90 of Fatality on the Field

I didn’t expect that, either, and it’s weirdly… nice? But I give him a stern look, hoping that conveys that he can’t start electrocuting anyone who looks at me funny or happens to touch me. People are more effusive than I’d prefer in this area, and he’ll be draining his battery to the nubs if he does. The dragon just gives me a satisfied smirk when I roll my eyes and continue into the next checkpoints.

Once we get through both of the two remaining badge checks, I hold onto Liam as we make our way up a wide stairwell lined with brass handrails and more tributes to State U’s football royalty. It’s immediately obvious as we hit the third floor that this is where the VIPs spend their time. The carpeting changes from basic red to the fancy shit I saw the other day and the walls have commissioned paintings of the past star players and coaches. There are so many vases of fresh flowers it’s like the aftermath of a mafia funeral and I rub my nose as I look at the boring flower types the committee used.

No one listened to Channing and me about varying the decorations from past years and it looks a bit tacky in my opinion.

Our ‘escort’ ducks into a side corridor labeled VIP Event Prep and finally hands us off to the people working there. Kaspar peels off immediately, starts his sweep of the hall before he grunts his assent. A scared-looking volunteer walks over and opens the door to our private green room. I’m struck again by how insane this fucking place is because what goddamn non-professional sports team has a facility with green rooms? It’s absolutely insane and I doubt it’s the last nonsense I’ll see today.

The suite is a long, narrow room with one wall of glass overlooking the field, and a conference-table setup in the middle. Maybe it’s not a green room, but a conference room? Still weird as hell, especially since it’s clear someone’s already been here today. There’s a charcuterie board that’s been mauled, an open bottle of bourbon on the table with two glasses poured, and a litter of mini-muffin wrappers on the floor under one chair. The thermostat is set to tundra and the chairs are askew.

“Gee, I’m glad the Dean’s party warranted a fresh, clean room to decompress in between all the events,” I say drily. “Not to be a snot, but someone’s in deep shit.”

Lucas throws himself into a chair at the end of the table and kicks his shoes off, rifling through the cheese and salami without complaint. Iggy floats to the bourbon, snags one of the glasses, and does not wait for anyone to join him before he throws back half of it. Slade chuckles and Liam sighs, shaking his head as Kaspar stalks the length of the table, pokes his head into the connecting bathroom, and gives the HVAC vent above the TV a hard stare. Once satisfied, he posts up near the door, arms folded, and eyes flicking back and forth like he’s tracking invisible threats.

I guess the guys don’t care that we’ve been relegated to a used space, but I know it’s an insult aimed at me because of my history, my gender, or both.

I slide into the seat next to Lucas and don’t even bother with pretending it’s not time to kick off these heels. “Iggy, pour me a glass as well, please?”

The mage grins a little at me as I look at him before I recline in the chair and close my eyes. “Absolutely, Morgana. It’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

Nodding, I murmur, “I assume the day will get worse, and the slights will get bigger despite how hard Chan and I worked on this shit. So I’m trying to find my center whenever I have a moment to keep my temper in check. We have enough to worry about without my gorgon begging to create more statues for Liam to wrap flowers around.”

“Not that I’m unwilling,” Liam says as he takes the chair on my other side. “I enjoy gardening when I’m in a mood, as Kas will attest.”

The dragon snorts. “Don’t get me started.”

“Maybe let’s not encourage that part?” Slade adds as he finds a bottle of water and sits down next to Lucas. “We all need to focus on this going well, everyone being safe, and not losing our shit in front of a zillion cameras.”

Channing walks in a beat after he says that, parking herself at the far end of the table as she growls softly. “Rest assured that I will make the state of this room and the disrespect clear to those who were assigned this area. I’m fairly certain they understand that any further ‘pranks’ will be dealt with swiftly and without preamble.”

I arch a brow as I look at the table we’re sitting around. There are game-day gift bags, but they’ve been rifled through. “Hopefully, you made your point. I have a list of names to deal with after this game, but I’m starting to feel like a Johnny Cash song at this point.”

Iggy brings my glass over and then walks over to sit next to Slade. “I would not have expected you to know the Man in Black, Morgana.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, professor,” I say before I take a long sip of my drink. “But as long as no one succeeds in killing us, you have time to find out.”

Slade pushes the cheese board in my direction and murmurs, “You should eat. This is going to be a long day and you’ll need the fuel.”

“I just ate,” I protest, but each of them glares at me and I wrinkle my nose. Taking a wedge of brie, I also grab a handful of almonds for good measure. I check my phone — five missed calls, three texts from Channing even though she’s in the room, and an email from the local news requesting an exclusive.

Nope. We decided it’s one big gaggle for a specific amount of time—no one is cornering me or any other person I know for their own benefit.

My eyes skitter to Lucas, who is licking cheese off his fingers. He stretches his arms overhead, the motion pulling his shirt tight across his chest and I blink. He catches me drooling and winks playfully. “We could always distract you, Lady M. I’m game.”

Liam coughs, shaking his head. “Absolutely not, cub. There are far too many sharp ears to do anything of the sort. None of us want anything public at the moment to prevent prying and paparazzi, remember?”

“Damn it,” I grumble as I set my glass down. “He’s right.”

The prince helps himself to a bourbon, looking over at his bodyguard. Kaspar finally relaxes enough to grab a chair and sits where he can see the door. He doesn’t bother with food, but when Li passes him the bourbon, he takes it gratefully. Raising the glass, the dragon says, “To surviving game day,” he says, with just enough sarcasm to take the edge off.

“To the next twelve hours being murder-free,” I reply as I lift mine and grin. Everyone else lifts their drink, and adds another hope for the day until we get to my assistant.

Channing looks up from her tablet and says, “For the record, I think all of that is unlikely, but I’ll drink to it anyway.”

I can’t help but beam at her. “You’re doing a fantastic job, you know. We all know this room thing isn’t your fault.”

“Even I know that,” Kaspar admits. “I’d fry them for the insult, but I was told no more giving people what they deserve. Sorry, snow girl.”

Lucas mimes lightning hitting someone with a grin, “I’d pay good money to see you barbecue some of these fuckers. I know I’m from the upper crust world, but watching the stuff here is so off-putting, man. I don’t know why; it just feels gross.”