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Luc had been Captain of the House’s guards, and he’d been promoted when Malik became Master of his own House. Kelley had taken over for Luc.
My father grinned. “He has an unusually good hand with decorations. And Kelley has done an excellent job in his stead on security.”
“Do you think there’ll be trouble tonight?”
“I don’t know. The Ombudsman’s office doesn’t believe so.”
“And what do you believe?”
A sly look crossed his face. “I believe the issue is in their hands, and I trust them to handle the investigation. And in the meantime, we have guards posted in and around the House.”
“So I saw.” I looked around the room, at the mementos he’d chosen to keep in sight. A few stood on glossy white floating shelves under glass covers. “Do you ever miss it?”
“Miss what?” he asked.
“The adventures.”
He smiled, tucked his hands into his pockets. “They didn’t always feel like adventures. More often, they were terrifying or constraining or infuriating. It is hard to be an enemy, Elisa. It wears.”
“And you’re less of an enemy now?”
“It would be more accurate to say we don’t involve ourselves in situations in which we could cause harm—even collaterally—to the city. And, more important, we found a different kind of adventure.” He smiled at me. “But no less terrifying... or infuriating.”
“Is this your segue into the trials and tribulations of parenthood?”
He raised a golden eyebrow, my dad’s signature move. He’d scared off a couple of human boyfriends with that one. “Fewertrials than tribulations, but yes. We wanted to be parents, and we wanted to keep you safe. We tried to do that.”
He looked at me, considering. “Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do after Paris?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I promised.
“The House is always hiring,” he said with a knowing smile. “And you have an in with the Master.”
“No nepotism. We’ve talked about that. I earn my way or I don’t.”
He walked toward me, took my hand. “I didn’t think I could be prouder of you, and then I saw you fighting at the Eiffel Tower for someone who wasn’t able. That’s who you are, Elisa. You just need to figure out what you’d like to do with it.”
“Am I interrupting?”
We looked back and found Malik Washington in the doorway, wearing an impeccable navy suit, a gingham square tucked into the pocket. His skin was dark, his head shaved, his eyes pale green.
“Uncle Malik!”
We strode to each other, met in the middle.
“Congratulations on the House!” I said as we embraced. “And sorry I couldn’t make it to the reception.”
He smiled. “Thank you. We appreciated the card and the macarons. They were truly excellent.”
At least I’d gotten that present right. “Paris is very good at macarons. How’s life as a Master?”
“There is, somehow, more paperwork. Vampires and bureaucracy are strange bedfellows.”
“So Dad always said. How’s Aunt Aaliyah?”
“She’s good. On a deadline.”
“She always is,” I said with a smile, which he returned.
