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“Can we get a drink, Liam?” I can’t bear another minute of this conversation.
“Sure. Just water for me till my rounds are over. But you look like you could use a gin or two.”
Nikki waves a hand over herself until she’s standing there in shorts and a sports bra. I’d never burn through magic for something that would take two minutes to accomplish by more conventional means, but I guess it’s a point of pride for her, particularly in front of us. “And I’d better get ready for my fight. But once I get home, I’ll be sure to mention to Gabe that you were asking about him.”
I steer Liam away before he can ask any difficult questions. The server gives him his drinks gratis. Heavens knows whether it’s competitor perks or the family name. Either way, I down the gin in one.
* * *
There are a few matches to get through before it’s time for Liam’s fight. I watch the first two with detached interest, focusing most of my attention on sipping my drinks, chatting to the family, and watching the crowd. Though I can’t help flinching at particularly vicious punches. Ray takes pictures that would put a professional sports photographer to shame. If only he could capture us on camera.
When it’s time for Nikki’s fight—the only female match of the night—my interest peaks. I stop short of cheering her on, on the grounds that would basically be treason, but I can’t help a smile when she wins on points, with no magic involved. Raucous cheering emanates from the table of her girlfriend and other Thornber associates.
Then it’s Liam’s turn, and suddenly, the whole thing seems more real. Less a fun sporting event to provide a backdrop to a night of glamour, more a battle in which my brother could get hurt. I put down my gin and sip some water to quash the rising fear-induced nausea.
For the first few seconds, I close my eyes. When I force them open, Liam seems to be holding his own. Without my mind’s conscious intervention, I’m on my feet, cheering and screaming along with the rest of my family. It’s like something more primal has taken over my usually reasonable brain.
The rounds go by in an absolute blur as I shout myself hoarse. At some point, the referee gives Liam the victory by technical knockout, and I sink back into my chair, as exhausted but exhilarated as if I’d fought myself.
Liam comes over and we all hug him tightly, despite him being a sweaty and slightly bloody mess. For the first time since my return—for the first time in years, really—I feel like a part of the family again.
TWELVE
The next morning, the weekend’s over and it’s time for court. It’s fair to say my preparation has been somewhat limited.
At nine AM, there’s the usual knock at my door. In the ten seconds it takes me to slick on a last coating of lipstick and grab my bag, my mind races through all the different things I want to say to Connor. Apologise. Demandheapologises. Be staunchly professional, like there’d never been any relationship or any argument. Be flirtatious as hell.
But when I push the door open, there’s a stocky middle-aged guy standing there. I fight to hide my mingled relief and disappointment, while I focus on trying to retrieve his name from the reaches of memory. He’d always been around in the background when I was a kid, albeit he’d looked rather younger then.
“Hi, Jack,” I manage eventually.
He nods solemnly. “Miss Sadler. Your father says I’m to keep an eye on you from now on.”
I nod. I daren’t ask about Connor.
We head straight downstairs, but before we can leave, a woman who’s drinking coffee in a corner of the bar beckons me over. “Miss Sadler, could I speak privately?”
She’s about my age and I vaguely recall her from teen years. We were never particularly close, but we were in some of the same classes at school, ended up at some of the same parties, that sort of thing. Nice girl, from what I remember.
I’ve seen her around in The Windmill a few times over the last few weeks, too, but I’ve kept myself to myself, and Chrissie’s disguise was enough to keep old acquaintances at bay. I wrack my brain for a name.Becca, I establish eventually.
I walk over to her. “Call me Sadie, please. What’s up?”
She glances nervously at Jack.
I turn to him. “Could you give us a moment?”
“I’m not meant to let you out of my sight. But Ms Wellburn is a well-regarded acolyte, so I suppose there’s no harm in it. She works directly for your older brother.”
He waves everyone but the two of us outside, then goes to stand by the door, far enough away that he shouldn’t be able to overhear the conversation, close enough to launch into the defensive mode the second anything untoward occurs.
Once we have some privacy, I sit down opposite her on a wooden chair. “Go on then, Becca.” Close to, I can feel her magic. It’s not as spectacular as Bren’s—or indeed, Gabriel’s—but it’s strong and steady.
She smiles at the fact I’ve remembered her name, then starts to twist her hands together.
“It feels disloyal to tell you this. There was no way in hell I was going to mention it to a random lawyer. But once I heard about who you really were—I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you, by the way—I thought you ought to know. I came here this morning specifically to catch you at a quiet moment.”
“If this is something relevant to the case, you need to tell me. The more I know, the more I can help.”
