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He hung up before Miller Lyra could nag about the importance of his role in the family, a spotless image that made everyone assume that the man was in line with the most powerful warlocks on Broom’s Isle. That was a lie, but Henry found he would rather ride the man’s obsession with that lie when the alternate option was Miller unleashing a temper tantrum. He didn’t have time for tantrums.
But he did have all night to play with the box in his pocket and see how powerful its contents were.
Hours later, the sun had risen and the box was almost empty. Seeds had been crushed to powder and dried grass lay scattered, all of which were punctuated by the charred holes that decorated his favorite working table. He frowned at it, head throbbing and body screaming for sleep. He touched the last batch of the mixture he made, which did nothing to spark life into the device he had been trying to jumpstart since last night…no, since a few months ago. The device was a key factor in the issue he had been losing sleep over for quite a while now.
Ozak had said his special nutrients breathed life into items created with magic, but either the man was lying, or Henry just couldn’t make it happen. Frustration sank in his bones, but the small part of him that was still alert reminded him of the time—or lack thereof. There was no time to rest. There was, however, time for a quick shower, so he left his working room and let the hot water rain down on him.
“Leave me some hot water, for the love of heavens,” Ryan called from outside, sounding like a man who had been beaten to death. Henry stepped out of the shower and peered at the man sitting on his bed, eyes bloodshot and aggressively rubbing his forehead.
“You have magic to make water hot. And you have your bathroom,” Henry pointed out. “What time did you get in?”
“Late. I spotted a few friends and decided to stay longer.” Ryan sighed.
“You know this partying phase can’t last for long. Grandma’s bound to find out and you will get in trouble.”
“I know. I will become as boring as you.” Ryan grinned. “Anyway, we would have finished up at a friend’s house, but I couldn’t miss the first meeting.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to see what Pearl has up her sleeve once she hears of our problem.”
And perhaps because Ryan already had a little crush, Henry suspected. He didn’t like it. Emotions messed with the mind, and having a crush would probably distract the younger man. Henry touched the tiles on his bathroom wall and waited until it heated up.
“It’s dried and heated. You can take your shower here and take your time.”
And hopefully, be so tired after and just crash into sleep. Ryan whimpered his gratitude, still rubbing his forehead.
“Thanks, cous. I knew there was some pitying soul inside that hardened heart of yours.”
When Ryan finally entered, Henry switched to drying himself, then got dressed just as the doorbell rang. He inwardly cursed, unused to being late for things. He didn’t like that he had been too preoccupied to mind the time. All these were tucked inside when he finally strode toward the receiving room minutes before his butler, Martin, ushered another figure in.
He expected a more professional façade to greet him, but Pearl walked the same as she often did: with a confident, almost lazy sway of hips that indicated she had all the time in the world. Her brown hair was in a loose ponytail. Her dress was wrinkled, albeit closely-fitting and showing off her curves. He deliberately looked away, gaze resting on white-gray eyes that challengingly eyed him back. Something jolted in Henry’s stomach, much like it did every time he saw those uncanny-colored orbs.
“I’m here,” she announced, voice holding a smoky lilt. “Shall we get started?”
He glanced at the butler, signaling the man’s departure, then expectantly returned his attention to her. When she didn’t elaborate, he gave her an incredulous look.
“That’s it?”
Pearl raised a brow. “Oh, I’m sorry, your Royal Highness. Was I supposed to curtsy?”
His back stiffened. Whatever friendliness he had been supposed to present to her flew out the window as disbelief took over.
“You’re supposed to present yourself to me,” he clipped out.
“What?”
“Your skills. What you can offer to the table. What services we are paying for.”
Her second brow rose. “Shouldn’t you have already read up about it if I was your first choice?”
“You weren’t my first choice. You were the Council’s.”
“Last I heard, you were a Council member.”
She was right and there was no arguing that, especially since the Council was known to decide as a whole.
“Fine. Never mind that. Come on.”
