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Since I’m not in the mood to get whiplash from Liam’s mood swings, I arch a brow and dryly say, “So you’re talking to me again?”
“No, dickhead. I was talking to the wall,” he retorts before taking a large swig of his beer. “At least the wall is useful and dependable, since I can lean on it without falling. What are you bringing to the table?”
My hands ball into fists, and I have half a mind to drag him outside so we can get this shit over with once and for all. “I’m not going to fight you tonight. Cia is excited and happy, so I’ll pretend you aren’t being a dick.”
“And I’ll pretend you can be trusted.”
My chance to throw something back at him—my fists or some choice words—is gone when we’re interrupted by Lupa and Morgana, each of them flanked by their respective Leader, Remus and Arthur.
“My money is on Gus,” Morgana says, eyeing me with a bored expression.
Lupa laughs, looking like she’s gliding as she closes the distance. “Why do the two of you look like you’re about to fight? It’s a party, lighten up.” While ignoring Liam’s protests, she drags him onto the dance floor.
“Is Acacia going to tolerate my Heir dancing with her consort?” Remus asks, looking almost worried as his eyes follow his cousin.
As I watch the two of them, I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever seen Liam dance before, and I don’t think I have. Not like now, anyway. But Lupa and Liam move like they’ve done this a million times before, which in all fairness, she probably has. However, as the protector, Liam’s place has always been in mine and Cia’s shadow, never at the front and center.
“Let’s see.” I smirk when our living-dead doll spots her consort on the dance floor, spinning and dipping the Russo Heiress.
Remus stiffens next to me, and I shift, ready to hold him back if he decides to intervene. Honestly, I don’t think Cia’s going to have a problem, and obviously Liam doesn’t either—if he did, he would have stayed right here.
“Augustus, may I have the next dance?” I’m almost startled when Morgana turns her eyes on me and holds her hand out.
I involuntarily look at Cia, who’s smiling at Lupa and Liam, even giving them a thumbs up. “Sure,” I say, taking her hand and leading her towards the crowded dance floor.
The music and lights change, and the live band starts playing a ballad. I know the music shouldn’t make a damn difference, yet it feels wrong to hold another woman like this. Morgana must be able to sense my reluctance, because she gives me a small smile and says, “If it helps, we have your cousin’s blessing.” Then, instead of waiting for me to catch up, she moves closer and places both my hands on her slim waist. “Breathe, Gus. Otherwise it looks like I’m holding you hostage.”
My brain finally catches up, and I start swaying us from side-to-side in the same spot. “What do you mean, she gave us her blessing?”
She laughs softly. “I mean that we talked beforehand, and she permitted Lupa and me to dance with you and Liam. Does that surprise you? And if so, which part? That we asked permission, or that she said yes?”
I can’t help smiling at the Hatt Protégé—wait, she’s technically my cousin, isn’t she?—in my arms. “All of it, if I’m being honest. Cia isn’t the sharing kind, and I never took you as the permission-seeking type.”
Morgana laughs again and confirms that she wouldn’t ask under normal circumstances. “Acacia knows it’s imperative I talk to you before you all come to England for the Heir Tournament.”
“Hmm, are you competing?” I ask, spinning her before pulling her back into my arms.
“No. I don’t wish to be one of Arthur’s Heirs. Truthfully, I didn’t even want to be his or my dad’s Protégé, but it is what it is. That’s as far as I’m going for the Hatt family, though. I’m not seeking to grow in rank.” She stops talking and looks at me as though she’s trying to make up her mind about something. “Lupa thinks we can trust you and Cia, and I guess your cousin has already proven she’s worth trusting and believing in. Is it the same with you, I wonder?”
The question feels loaded, like maybe she knows more than she’s letting on. I shouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case. I might not know exactly what it entails to grow up as a Hatt, but if my mom’s behavior is anything to go by, it can’t be easy. What has to be done to a person to make them that cold?
While I’ve never held Morgana in high regard, there’s something different about her. I don’t know if it’s because she’s literally risking her life by being with Lupa, or something else. It would be easy to say I’ve changed my mind about her because she willingly stood witness at Cia and Kai’s wedding, but that wouldn’t be the truth. My opinion changed about her before then.
“You can trust me, Morgana. You stood by Cia when she needed you without having to, that’s enough for me.” As I say the words, it feels like I’m saying them for my own benefit as well. She nods thoughtfully, stealing a few glances at Lupa. “You care for her a lot, don’t you?” It’s a stupid observation that I shouldn’t voice without privacy, even if it is whispered.
“I love her, but I can never really be with her. Even though I love her enough to know she’s it for me, it’s not enough to let her go,” Morgana whispers so passionately it’s almost a hiss. “But I’m not here to discuss her. I wanted to talk to you before you travel to England. It’s imperative you don’t tell Arthur about my real parentage, not under any circumstances.”
The fourth song starts. Luckily it’s still a slow tempo so we don’t stand out while we barely move. Morgana’s head is resting on my shoulder, and my mouth is almost touching the shell of her ear. To an onlooker we probably look like we’re cozying up to each other, which I suppose is better than knowing the conversation we’re having.
“Alexander came to see me the other day.” Morgana shudders, her voice sounding strangled. “Tell Cia that I know, and we can… discuss it when we’re all back here. But Arthur. Cannot. Know. That’s all I can say for now. Thanks for the dance, Gus.”
The song ends, and she pulls back, her trademark cold smile back in place as she looks at me like she wishes she was anywhere but here.
However, when Cia, Kai, Liam, and Lupa come over, Morgana smiles devilishly at my cousin. Then she leans up and softly presses her lips to mine. “Cia had this coming,” she whispers.
Lupa laughs and Cia swears under her breath, but the look in her eyes isn’t one that threatens Morgana’s health. No, if anything, she stares at her with begrudging respect. “Touché, lion. Touché.”
“Why the hell do you want to wade through a cheap maze when you have the real deal at your fingertips?” Liam asks.
