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“Size doesn’t matter,” he countered. “We have superior architecture, and our garden is much more impressive. Winters, what do you think?”
“Well, I didn’t really see that much of the Dawson estate.” The second Mira said it, she regretted the phrasing. They whistled. She couldn’t very well tell them she had only been there to work on a secret murder investigation. “But your home seems warmer—in a grotesque billionaire sort of way.”
“So it’s even?” Evren summarized.
“Well, I haven’t seen the garden,” Mira added.
“Let’s change that.” Harrington got up and took the bottle of Goldwine with him.
Amelia hooked her arm into Mira’s as they made their way through the house. “Kane and Dawson have had this stupid contest since they were kids.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
Massive glass doors swung open, and Mira tried to catch her breath. On either side of the pathway was a seemingly infinite array of flowers and trees. It was wild and beautiful. Overgrown by vines and roots but in a way that appeared deliberate.
“We have forty-seven different types of trees, brought in from all over the spheres, and three hundred seventy-eight types of flowers,” Harrington informed her as if he was a tour guide.
Like giant umbrellas, several heating spells protected the tropical flowers, which smelled of night-blooming jasmine and other flowers she had never encountered before, from the harsh winter air.
“The garden is beautiful,” Mira agreed, unable to take her eyes off the endless display of flowers in vibrant colors. “You win.”
“That’s the correct answer.” Harrington smiled.
Amelia raised her eyebrows at Mira. “Don’t tell Dawson that.”
“Are you kidding me?” Harrington put an arm around his girlfriend. “It’s the first thing I’m going to tell that pale bastard when I see him next.”
“Where is he, by the way?” Did he stay away on purpose, knowing his friends had invited her?
“Missing him already?” Harrington asked.
“Terribly,” Mira deadpanned. “Is he out on council duty?”
The three Wielders stopped dead in their tracks. “He told you about that?” Evren asked.
“He didn’t tell me—I heard.”
“Dawson doesn’t really share things with us,” Harrington said as they continued their walk to the gazebo. “But from what I gather, yes, he’s currently on assignment.”
When they stepped inside, small lights flickered on, hovering around them like fireflies.
“I didn’t know the council hired Mercer’s former soldiers.”
Amelia balanced the Goldwine glass in her gloved hand and eyed Mira suspiciously. “Is this another bit of information you heard about him?”
Mira shook her head. “No, I assumed as much, given his extensive injuries.”
Harrington topped off Mira’s glass with more Goldwine. “It’s a form of punishment. The council made many former Wielder soldiers take up demon slayer duties with little or no pay. Given who Dawson is, they slapped him with the highest penalty. He will have to work for them for years.”
But it wasn’t a program to reintegrate Dawson back into society after whatever crimes he had committed during the war. If what Oliver told her was correct, the council had weaponized Dawson.
“How long do his assignments normally last?”
Harrington eyed her suspiciously. “It varies. Word of advice: Don’t ever ask about his scars or the war in general.”
She bit the inside of her lip, remembering his reaction when she had asked him if his scars still hurt. Dawson had never answered her question.
Evren sighed into the tense silence and crossed one leg over the other, smirking at Mira. “Know of any single Caster men? I have given up on Wielders.”
The question was so out of left field, Mira opened her mouth and closed it without knowing how to respond.
