Chapter Nine
Eoin
How long can this damn meeting last? I’m still not clear on why there had to be a meeting to begin with.
How hard can it be to come up with a test of some kind?
I lived with Hagen for decades, so I know exactly how weirdly creative he is.
Something like this should be easy for him.
All he and his Team Bro friends had to do was give Dáithí a couple of suggestions to choose from. It could have been an email.
So why am I still sitting here at Raeulfr’s condo an hour after the meeting was supposed to start, sweating through my shirt and resisting the urge to get very drunk on my boss’s whiskey?
“Maybe Dáithí changed his mind,” I blurt—not for the first time. “What if he decided he doesn’t want to do this after all?”
Ari nudges my glass closer. “Have a sip to calm your nerves.”
I shake my head. “No, I—”
“That wasn’t a suggestion. Have a damn sip before I choke you.”
“What Ari means,” Raeulfr interjects, “is that the whiskey will take the edge off your nerves while we wait. Someone would have called or texted if Dáithí had changed his mind.”
Would they? “What if they haven’t because they’re trying to talk him back into it?”
The sound that emerges from Ari’s throat convinces me to pick up my glass and have a tiny sip. He’s the most level-headed, easygoing person on my team. If he’s this annoyed with me, I’m probably overreacting to the situation.
Though I’m not sure it’s possible to overreact to the possibility of losing the love of your life.
I chug until my glass is empty.
“Impressive,” Brandt says. “Refill?” He’s pouring before I can answer.
A responsible team leader probably wouldn’t act this way in front of half his team, his boss who is the co-head of government, and the other co-head of government. Too bad I’m not wearing my “responsible” hat right now. I knock the second glass back as fast as the first.
It’s outside work hours anyway, and I long ago mastered spells for sobering up. It might do my team good to know I’m a person with feelings.
Wow, the effects of that whiskey hit fast.
“What are you all here for?” I ask in a desperate attempt to distract myself from the wait and everyone else from my out-of-character behavior. I look around the table at my team. “Go home. Except for whoever’s on duty.” Fuck. Who’s on duty tonight?
I tip my head back and squint at the ceiling, which seems to be rotating. “That’s an interesting design feature.”
“What is?” Brayan asks, but I’m too busy following the movement of the ceiling with my eyes to answer. It’s slowly spinning, but not in a perfect circle—there are all kinds of wavy dips and—
“Whoa!” Hands grab me and lift me back into my chair.
“I thought that was only his first drink?” Niamh says, hovering beside me as Ari grabs my chin and turns my face toward him, peering into my eyes.
I grin at him. “Hi. You have a nice face.”
“Hm,” Raeulfr says as Ari’s jaw drops. I pat his cheek. “Where did you say you got this whiskey, Brandt?”
Brandt’s already examining the bottle. “Fabian got it for me. I didn’t have time to stop somewhere, and it’s not like I can ask my security team to go to the liquor store for me.”
Oh! I swivel in my chair and nearly fall off again—it’s okay, Ari catches me. Who knew he was so good at that?—and wave excitedly at Steffen, who’s sitting at the far end of the long table, a little apart from the rest of us. Hey, this table really is long!
“How many people does this table seat?” I ask, then wave at Steffen again. “Do you have time for a consult? Raeulfr’s been troublesome lately.”
The king’s low laugh always makes me happy. It’s not easy being the person who sometimes has to say “no” to my species leader. “I just want you to be safe and happy,” I tell him earnestly.
Steffen’s chair scrapes across the floorboards as he stands abruptly. “Where are you going?” Brandt asks him.
“To call Wil. He needs to check if Fabian has any more of that whiskey and confiscate it.”
“Sit down. Fabian’s allowed to drink whiskey.” Brandt leans back in his chair, utterly relaxed, but Steffen’s not having it. He points at me.
“Do you see that? Do you see what two glasses of that concoction did to a steady, reliable, responsible man? Imagine what it could do to Fabian—or Dustin—or Hagen?” His expression turns even sterner than usual.
“I’m drafting an edict for you to sign. That whiskey is going to be banned for all dragons. ”
Brandt purses his lips, studying me, then sighs. “I suppose that’s the sensible thing to do.”
I gasp. Steffen’s stern face worked! Would it work on Raeulfr too? I should practice, just in case I need it one day.
“What’s wrong with his face?” Brayan cries. “Is he having a medical emergency?”
Fingers press against my neck, and I feel the cool tingle of a spell wash over me—Ari’s. He’s got the most training with healing magic, which makes him the team medic. “You have skills to go with your nice face,” I inform him, even as said nice face relaxes.
“He’s fine, just drunk. Why were you making that weird expression?” He sits back down in his chair, still turned toward me.
“I was practicing Steffen’s stern face. Oh! Steffen, is it okay if I use your stern face?” Has the word “face” been used too much tonight?
The frown line between Steffen’s eyebrows lightens a little, which is practically a smile for him, and I take that as permission.
“Seriously,” Niamh says, “what’s in this?” She’s picked up the whiskey bottle and is studying the label. “And why has it only affected Eoin like this? We all had some.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “A little drunk never hurt me. I’ve been waaaaaay drunker than this.”
“Have you?” Raeulfr asks, sounding amused. I did that! I amused my king.
“I’m so sorry I don’t get to make you happy more,” I tell him solemnly. “You deserve to be happy. Jared is a gift in your life.”
“He is,” he agrees. “Don’t worry, Eoin. I know you’re doing your best to protect me. It’s okay if that means you can’t make me happy all the time.”
“Yes!” I jab a finger toward him, then turn to Ari. “See? See how right he is. Sometimes we have to make him miserable so he can be safe for Jared to make him happy! Jared is his happiness.”
Ari grabs my finger, which for some reason is still pointing at… something, and pulls my arm down to rest on the table. “Uh-huh.”
“Dáithí is my happiness.” Ohhh. Dáithí. “But he might not want to be. It’s hard work, being someone’s happiness, even though all Dáithí has to do is exist. He’s…
he’s my sunshine.” I squint, because that’s not right.
Sunshine is mellow, not sassy. “The kind that sometimes gives you a little sunburn, but you love it and want to spend all your time out in it anyway.”
“Maybe don’t tell him that,” Niamh suggests, and I swing around to frown at her. She’s swaying, for some reason.
“Why? Do you think he doesn’t want to be my sunshine? You do, don’t you? You think he’s changed his mind about giving me a chance.”
“I meant the sunburn part,” she says patiently. “Calling him a sunburn isn’t romantic. Or a compliment.”
“It’s a metaphor,” I explain. “Dáithí’s all hot and burny and sometimes has flaming explosions on the outside, but inside, he’s sweet and funny and perfect. Like the sun.”
“Don’t tell him that either,” Brayan advises. “Also, I’m not an expert on the sun, but I don’t think it’s ‘sweet and funny’ on the inside. I was told it’s a ball of gas.”
Are they deliberately missing the point? “Even a ball of gas can be sweet and funny.”
Niamh opens her mouth, but the king speaks before she can. “Let’s not worry about that for now. We all know what you meant, Eoin, and I think it’s wonderful that you see Dáithí like that.”
“It’s not how I see him; it’s how he is.
” Why are there suddenly two of him? Is this an illusion spell—maybe a new security measure?
I should know about that, since I’m the head of his security team.
Leaning toward Ari—who puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes me back into my chair—I whisper, “Did I authorize the two-Raeulfrs illusion spell?”
He glances across the table at the king, then back at me. “You’re seeing two of him?”
I nod. For some reason, my head keeps moving up and down even after I want it to stop, so I grab my chin with my hand. “Two.”
“Uh-huh. You did approve it. We’re, uh, testing it tonight, remember.”
“Of course I remember. I was just checking that you did. Good job.” I’m so glad he’s my second-in-command.
“I think I’ve worked it out,” Brandt says suddenly.
He’s holding the whiskey bottle in one hand and his phone in the other, staring intently at the screen.
“This is a community brand, which means sorcery to prevent them from metabolizing the alcohol too fast. Their website says the weave they use is their own patented design, since they only produce whiskey, which is supposed to be sipped.” He looks over at me. “Eoin definitely did not sip.”
“So the effects of the weave are amplified because he drank it fast?” Steffen asks suspiciously. He’s adorable sometimes.
“Steffen, you’re adoramph—” Ari’s hand clamping over my mouth cuts me off.
Steffen frowns. “What did he say?”
“Nothing that would add value to this conversation—or his life.” Ari smiles at Steffen, then leans closer to me and murmurs, “I’m going to take my hand away. Do not speak.”
I nod, my eyes darting around the room. Is there danger? Have I been compromised? Will my voice trigger a detonation spell? I won’t risk Raeulfr, but Ari seems to have things under control, so for now I’ll let him take the lead.
“I guess so,” Brandt is saying. “Alcohol does affect us, after all. It just wears off faster, making it difficult for enough to build up in the bloodstream to make us tipsy or drunk. Before the community began using sorcery to help with that, the trick to feeling a buzz was to drink a lot in a short space of time. Eoin did that, but since he wasn’t drinking human liquor… ”
Raeulfr raises a brow. “Should we worry about how you know this?”
“You used to come to Earth back then too,” Brandt teases.
“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t chug that fermented grain and fruit mixture I have such fond memories of.
” The king merely smiles, and Brandt continues, “Anyway, what Eoin did was the equivalent of having half a dozen strong drinks in two minutes.”
That’s fascinating. “I love science!”
“I don’t think it’s science, exactly,” Ari says. “Should we sober him up?”
My king studies me, and I smile widely at him. “Not yet. Let’s wait for an update first.”
This sounds like something I should know about. “What kind of update? Do I need to be briefed?”
“Will he remember this later?” Niamh asks. “If not, we missed a big opportunity by not recording any of it.”
“Will who remember what?” I demand. “I think I need to be briefed on whatever’s going on.” I’m in charge of Raeulfr’s security, after all. It concerns me that I’ve been left out of the loop on— “Ooooh! These chairs vibrate!”
“They do?” Brandt twists around to look at his chair. “Mine doesn’t—did I get a dud? Raeulfr, how dare you give me a dud chair! I insist on swapping for a vibrating one.”
Ari sighs. “It’s probably your phone. Why don’t you take it out of your pocket?”
My jaw drops open. “I bet you’re right! You’re so smart. I’m lucky to have a friend like you.” I grope at the side of my pants. “I can’t find my pocket! Can you find it and get my phone for me?”
“No,” he replies, grabbing my hand and moving it higher up my leg. “We’re not that kind of friends. Try here.”
I’m still puzzling over what he could mean by that when my fingertips brush against hard metal. My phone!
Unfortunately, even when I finally get it out of my suddenly too-small pocket and see a message notification from Hagen, I can’t access the message. My stupid phone keeps rejecting my code. “Third time lucky,” I mutter, but before I can punch in the digits, Ari snatches it from my hand.
“What’s the code?”
I gape at him. All these years working together, and he wants me to share a personal security code? He should know better. “Sharing unlock codes is a breach of security protocol,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but if you input the wrong code again, you’ll be locked out, and since I just watched you hit the same number six times in a row, I’m pretty sure you can’t see the keypad clearly right now. Code?”
“Of course I can see—”
“Code?” he insists, sounding like he did before when he threatened to choke me. Sighing, I give in and tell him. It’s not going to work for him, either, so when I eventually get in I can just change—
“Okay, that worked.”
What? “Impossible!” How did it work for him when it didn’t for me?
“Hagen says they’d like to join us and present the tasks. I’m telling him yes, right?”
There’s a chorus of agreement from around the table, and I belatedly say, “Yes.” Then I add, “Who’s coming here why?”
Raeulfr sighs. “Time to sober him up.”
Sober who up?
The cool touch of Ari’s magic is the next thing I know.