Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

And Monty certainly wasn’t that.

His brief smile held more than a little bitterness. “When I went through accreditation, it was revealed I didn’t have the expected magical strength.”

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“Let’s just say my parents were so damn disappointed that I accepted the first available job and got the hell away from them.” His gaze narrowed. “What’s your excuse?”

I knew he wasn’t referring to the reasons we were here, but with Ashworth and Eli here, I wasn’t about to answer that truthfully.

“We left for a very similar reason.”

“At sixteen, and well before you ever went through accreditation.”

“Which wasn’t exactly necessary, was it?” Not when all of Canberra had known not only my status as an utter disappointment to my parents, but also the fact that my father held me responsible for the death of my sister. She’d been the family’s star, possessing so much magical depth that she outshone even my parents and, at the age of nineteen, had been named successor to my father’s seat on the high council. But none of that had saved her when a dark sorcerer had come calling.

I’d tried to. And failed.

“No,” Monty said, “but given how furious your father was in the weeks that followed your disappearance, it’s very much a story I want to hear.”

I could well imagine my father’s fury—after all, I’d not only managed to circumvent his plans for me, but also tarnished his good name.

The only story he actually wants to hear, Belle said, her mental tones weary, is how—and why—his speech has suddenly been restricted.

Which we can’t explain until we’re alone. And maybe not even then. I pushed some strength her way, and then said, You’d better sit before you fall.

I’d rather keep out of his way, she said. I’ll cut up the cake while you make the coffee. I can lean on the counter afterward without it appearing too suspicious.

“That’s a story we all want to hear,” Ashworth said, his tone dry. “But one I suspect will be some time in coming.”

My gaze finally returned to his. He was bald, with a well-tanned face full of wrinkles and eyes that were muddy silver in color. The power that rolled off him was fierce, but it was little more than the flicker of a candle when compared to Monty’s output. And he’d been classified as not being strong enough to fill his father’s shoes.

“You already know far more than most,” I said. “Would you like a coffee? And cake?”

“Nice redirect, but one that will always work.” He slapped Monty on the shoulder with his good hand—his right arm was still in a cast after he’d broken it during our efforts to stop the dark witch—then pulled out a chair and sat down. “If you’re a true foodie, this is the place to be—they make the most amazing cakes.”

“A statement I’ll certainly test the merits of.” At least until he’d gotten some answers, his expression seemed to add.

“What would you like to drink, Monty?” I walked over to the counter.

“I’ll have a short black, thanks.” He sat down and crossed his arms, anger vibrating from every inch. “A strong one. How long have you been living here?”

“We arrived a few months before Christmas.” I started making coffee. “The place simply felt right.”

“And the wild magic entwined within the protections you’ve layered around the café?”

Fuck, he sensed that quickly, Belle commented, as she began plating up thick slices of black forest cake.

He’s a couple steps up the power ladder from either Ashworth or Eli, so that’s not really surprising. I’m just glad he isn’t sensing it on me.

I daresay he is, she said. But he won’t be able to comment on it until we’re alone.

Oh. Good.

“It would appear Liz has something of an affinity to the wild magic here,” Ashworth said, his gaze on me. There was a warning there—one that said I dare not stray too far from the truth if I wanted to keep my deeper secrets. “It’s bolstered a couple of her spells over the last few months.”

Monty studied me through slightly narrowed eyes. “That’s not possible.”

A statement that very easily could have been a reply to Ashworth’s comment, but one I rather suspected was actually aimed at what he was sensing in my magical output. It might still be the output of a low-powered witch, but there were now wisps of wild magic evident if you looked closely enough.