Chapter 6
Archer
“It’s literally the first weekend back at school,” I grumbled as Amelia and I headed for the teleportation stone circle. “Why do Mother and Father insist on throwing a party every single time?”
“Because they like to remind us they’re still in control of our lives,” Amelia shot back, not tempering her words at all. “And they’re doing damage control.”
“Damage control?”
“From the Voss fiasco.”
“Still?” I asked, knitting my brows together. “That was almost a year ago now. It’s old news.”
“Not to them and not to their friends,” she replied, her blonde hair swinging as she walked. “They’re trying to prove that we’re not connected with them, that we never were, and that the Voss family has gone completely rogue.”
“That’s quite a lie to spin,” I groaned. “Good luck with that.”
“And there’s another thing,” she said, stopping at the edge of the stone circle.
“What’s that?”
She let out a long sigh, looking at me like I should already know the answer. “They want to pick out a new husband for me.”
“Ew… god. I’m sorry,” I said, the idea of it making my skin crawl. “Is there any way I can help with that?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Help me be as unappealing as possible.” She glanced my way, a determined look in her eyes. “Tell every boy you meet that I’m messy, I don’t take orders, that I fart a lot, and that I never brush my teeth. Anything it takes to get them to walk away.”
I didn’t even attempt to stifle my grin. “Oh… that’s gonna be way too much fun.”
“Good. Go absolutely hog wild with it. Just as long as I don’t get sold off to the highest bidder.”
“What if they find a guy that’s into gassy independent women?”
She laughed. “You know our parents would never approve of anyone like that.”
I nodded. “Yeah. You’ve got a point there.”
“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the circle. “Let’s get this stupid party over with.”
The familiar tug in my stomach made me grit my teeth as the world dissolved around us. Teleportation always made me nauseous, but I’d learned not to complain about it years ago. The Quinn family didn’t tolerate weakness, even something as minor as motion sickness from magical transport.
When the world solidified again, we were standing in the grand foyer of the Quinn mansion.
The familiar marble floors gleamed under the crystal chandelier, and I could already hear the sound of voices and clinking glasses from the main parlor.
My parents had spared no expense on this party.
There seemed to be some sort of unspoken correlation between money spent on a party and how okay they wanted everything to seem.
But it wasn’t just them, all their friends did the same thing.
“Remember,” Amelia whispered as we handed our coats to one of the house staff. Mother never kept the same person long enough for us to learn their names. “Make me sound absolutely revolting.”
“Trust me, I’ve got this,” I whispered back, straightening my tie. The formal wear felt restrictive after spending the weekend in casual clothes, like putting on a costume for a role I didn’t want to play.
We walked into the main parlor together, and I immediately spotted our parents holding court near the fireplace.
Mother was resplendent in midnight blue silk, her blonde hair swept into an elegant chignon and a diamond encrusted comb that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent.
Father stood beside her in his perfectly tailored black suit, looking every inch the powerful witch patriarch he was.
The room was filled with the usual suspects from the most prominent magical families.
I recognized the Ashfords near the windows, the Sterlings by the bar, and what looked like two members of the Elder Council scattered throughout the crowd.
Everyone was dressed to impress and probably gossiping about everyone else behind their champagne flutes.
“Archer! Amelia!” Mother’s voice carried across the room as she spotted us. “Come, there are some people I’d like you to meet.”
I exchanged a quick glance with Amelia before we made our way over. She squeezed my hand once before dropping it, and I knew she was steeling herself for whatever matrimonial ambush our parents had planned.
“Everyone, you remember my children,” Mother said as we approached the group gathered around her. “Archer and Amelia. Both doing so well at Widdershins Academy.”
I plastered on my most diplomatic smile and nodded to the assembled guests. Most of them I recognized from previous family gatherings, but there were a few new faces mixed in. Young faces. Potential suitors for Amelia or myself, no doubt.
“Archer’s in his final year,” Father added, his hand landing heavily on my shoulder. “Top of his class and taking only advanced courses, naturally. We’re very proud.”
“And Amelia is such a lovely young woman,” Mother continued, her arm sliding around my sister’s waist in what looked affectionate but felt possessive. “So accomplished. She plays three instruments and speaks four languages fluently.”
I watched Amelia’s jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. To anyone else, she probably looked like the perfect dutiful daughter, but I could see the rebellion simmering behind her blue eyes.
“Mrs. Quinn,” came a smooth voice from behind us, “you didn’t mention that Amelia was also so beautiful.”
We turned to see a young man approaching, probably around my age, with the kind of polished good looks that screamed old money. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his suit impeccably tailored, and his smile had that practiced charm that made my skin crawl.
“Ah, Constantine!” Mother’s voice practically sparkled with delight. “Children, this is Constantine Pemberton. His family owns the largest magical textile business in North America.”
Constantine stepped forward and took Amelia’s hand, bringing it to his lips in what I was sure he thought was a charming gesture. “Miss Quinn, it’s an absolute pleasure.”
I saw my sister’s eye twitch slightly, but her smile never wavered. “Mr. Pemberton. How... lovely to meet you.”
This was my cue.
“Oh, Constantine,” I said, moving closer to the group with what I hoped looked like brotherly enthusiasm, “you should know some things about my sister before you get too interested.”
“Archer,” Amelia said in a warning tone that sounded perfectly natural to everyone else but made me grin internally.
“No, no, he should know,” I continued, ignoring her fake protests. “Amelia’s wonderfully... authentic. She never holds back, if you know what I mean. Especially after she’s had beans for dinner.”
Constantine’s eyebrows rose slightly, and I caught Mother’s sharp intake of breath from the corner of my eye.
“And she’s so independent,” I went on, really warming to my theme now. “She absolutely refuses to take direction from anyone. Especially men. Last boyfriend tried to suggest she might want to wear her hair differently, and she hexed all his clothes pink for a month.”
“That’s... quite spirited,” Constantine said, his smile becoming noticeably more strained.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” I laughed, putting my arm around Amelia’s shoulders.
“Tell him about your morning routine, Mel. How you like to practice your kung fu at dawn. Really gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it?
” I leaned a bit closer. “She broke a guy’s leg last year in less than a second. Pretty impressive, huh?”
Constantine’s face went pale, and he actually took a small step backward. “She... broke someone’s leg?”
“Compound fracture,” I confirmed cheerfully, patting Amelia’s shoulder with obvious pride. “There was so much blood. The healers said it was one of the most precise breaks they’d ever seen. Really shows her attention to detail, don’t you think?”
I could feel Mother’s horrified stare burning into the side of my head, but I kept my focus on Constantine, who was now looking at Amelia like she might spontaneously combust or attack him at any moment.
“And the dental hygiene thing,” I continued, really hitting my stride now. “Amelia’s got this theory that brushing your teeth too often weakens the enamel, so she only does it every few days, and only with a cotton cloth, never a toothbrush. It’s a very... natural approach to oral care.”
Amelia made a sound that could have been either a laugh or a strangled gasp, but she covered it well by taking a sip of champagne. Constantine, meanwhile, was edging further away with each word I spoke.
“Of course, that’s nothing compared to her collection of—”
“Archer.” Father’s voice cut through my enthusiastic character assassination like a blade. “Perhaps you could help me with something in my study?”
The tone brooked no argument, and I knew I’d probably pushed things as far as I could without facing serious consequences later.
But judging by Constantine’s expression, the damage was already done.
He looked like he’d rather throw himself into a pit of hungry dragons than spend another moment in Amelia’s presence.
“Of course, Father,” I said, giving Amelia one last conspirative squeeze. “It was lovely meeting you, Constantine. I’m sure you and Amelia will have lots to talk about.”
As I followed Father toward his study, I caught sight of Amelia’s grateful smile and Constantine’s barely concealed look of horror. Mission accomplished.
Father’s study hadn’t change once since I’d been born.
The walls were covered in dark wood paneling, leather-bound books that probably cost more than most people’s cars, and filled the lingering scent of expensive cigars and perpetual disappointment.
He closed the door behind us with a soft click that somehow managed to sound ominous.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward one of the chairs facing his massive mahogany desk.
I remained standing. “I’d prefer not to.”
His blue eyes, similar to mine but far colder, narrowed slightly. “That wasn’t a request, Archer.”
I sat.