“Dinner was wonderful. We should do this again.”

  I smile as my dad pulls me in for a hug. “Maybe if you’d work less we’d get to see each other more often.”

  “Ask me again after I’ve retired and you’re the one playing politics.” He laughs and tugs on his coat. “I’m getting too old for this nonsense. Appointments, conferences. Meetings at all hours of the night. I swear, politics are a game for the young.”

  My grin falters but he doesn’t seem to notice and there’s no point in arguing.

  After refusing to take the medication, eventually my symptoms subsided and the rest of the night had passed without another word about my mother or my career. By the time the dishes were cleaned and the table cleared, the sour mood had brightened once more.

  Regardless of my feelings on the matter he’s still my father. I’ll deal with my future when the time comes.

  “I’ve got some business to tend to and then I head back to the capital. Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No, dad, I’m fine. My shift starts in an hour and Rose should have a cup of coffee ready for me at the shop before I go in.”

  “Ah, good. Maybe you’ll get to squeeze in some time to study. I imagine the library won’t see too many students during intersession.” He kisses my forehead. “Tell Rosalie I said hello when you see her.”

  “I will. Love you, dad.”

  His mustache curls upward as a grin alights his face. “Love you too, star lily. We’ll talk soon.”

  After he leaves I finish tidying up my apartment, my head still throbbing with a dull ache from my earlier episode. It’s a painful reminder of an exhausting night, compounded by a stressful week, and the last thing I want to do when I get out of work tomorrow morning is clean. With classes in intersession and no other plans, I have every intention of coming home and sleeping the rest of my day away.

  ***

  The coffeehouse is quiet this time of night.

  Faux firelight flickers from large overhanging lanterns, the runes pulsing softly against their alabaster casings and bathing the small interior in a warm orange glow. A quick glance around reveals a young couple exchanging intimate whispers to my left, an elderly gentleman seated at a center table sipping a cup of tea as he peruses the paper before him, and a group of students huddled in a booth with several large textbooks splayed open on the table between them.

  I see that I’m not the only one worried about passing my finals. As they dissect the pages word by agonizing word, ingesting as much as they can between hushed murmurs and hurried slurps of caffeine, a knowing pang knots my stomach. After my heart-to-heart over dinner earlier, it was made abundantly clear that failing was not an option for me, either.

  Subtle movement catches my eye and my gaze briefly lands on a lone figure slouched in the far corner, one arm tossed casually over the back of their chair as a fluffy cat winds itself around their legs. I look on as the figure reaches down to scratch their companion behind the ears, to which the cat responds by arching its back, neither appearing to notice—or care—about their audience. Just a person and their four-legged friend enjoying each other’s company in a cozy little cafe.

  That’s so adorable.

  As if hearing my thoughts, or sensing my obvious stare, the figure tilts their head and leans back. Even though it’s impossible to make out their shadowed features from this distance, my skin prickles as a distinct sensation washes over me, stilling my stride and standing my hairs on end.

  I’m being watched.

  “Dani!”

  Rose’s voice cuts through the ambience, snapping my attention away from the stranger and their pet, and hurriedly I make my way over to her. Gods, how embarrassing. Of course they were staring at me, I was staring at them first! As if I’ve never seen a cat before.

  Could I be any more foolish?

  “You made it.” Rose smiles as I prop my elbows on the countertop and settle into one of the wooden barstools. “I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

  “Well you owe me a double,” I reply with a grin, swallowing my apprehension. “And you promised me pastries. You know I can’t resist your sweets.”

  “I promised you one pastry,” she parries, turning around to start up the machinery behind her. “So how was dinner?”

  “It was good.” I was hoping that she’d forgotten, actually. “Dad says hi.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet. Tell Mr. Vossler I say hi back when you see him again.”

  “Sure, sure.” Strange, she’s usually much nosier than this—

  “So did you two talk at all about selling your soul or did you just sweep it under the proverbial rug like you do with all things confrontational?”

  And there it is. Classic Rose.

  “I mentioned it,” I admit with a shrug. “Briefly.”

  “Dani!”

  “Well what did you expect, Rose?” A puff of hot air gusts from my nose as I comb exasperated fingers through my hair. “You’ve met him, you know how stubborn he can be. He started talking about upholding the family legacy and how there’s never been a Vossler to flunk magic school before. What was I supposed to say to that?”

  “That’s easy. You say, ‘Hey dad, guess what? I don’t want to be a mage’! See? Easy.”

  I roll my eyes. “Next time I’ll let you do all the talking, then.”

  “I can’t be there to fight your battles all the time, Dani girl.” She withdraws an engraved cup from a stack on the counter, a cheeky glint sparkling in her blue eyes as she adds, “Besides, your dad scares me.”

  Laughter bubbles in my throat and I shake my head. “So you understand what I’m up against, here.”

  Rose clucks her tongue against her teeth but says nothing more on the matter. Our conversation fizzles as I watch her click off the stove and carry a tin percolator to the prep station. The heavy scent of dark roast coffee fills the air and I inhale deeply, but the momentary silence is uncomfortably deafening and out of habit I reach for my necklace.

  “I brought up my mom.” I’m not sure why I feel compelled to mention that, but it’s been weighing on my mind since opening that wound. “Well, technically he did, but I didn’t exactly handle it well.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Rose studies me, her gaze flicking over my face with a tenderness that one normally reserved for frightened children or a delicate sculpture. As if I’d fracture then and there, and in that moment I remember what it feels like to be seen again.

  “You’re entitled to your feelings, hun.”

  I never told her the true cause of my mother’s death or of the circumstances that led to it, but she knew enough to understand how I felt about the woman I never met and my anger at the pain she left behind in her absence. And she never once judged me for it.

  It was almost liberating, in a way, to have such affirmation from someone who shares a healthy loving relationship with both of her parents. Like an unspoken vindication that I don’t have to be haunted, too.

  “Your coffee’s almost done brewing. What time do you go in, again?”

  Grateful for the change of subject, I glance at the clock behind her. A quarter till nine. “In about thirty minutes.”

  “Good.” She sets a steaming cup down in front of me. “Then you can help serve this before you leave.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “I’m not your employee.”

  “No, but you’re my friend and friends help each other out.”

  “Where’s Peter?”

  “I gave him the rest of the night off after business slowed down. We’re closing soon anyway and I was growing tired of listening to him whine.”

  I lower my gaze to the dark-colored beverage and scrunch my nose at the bitter smell wafting up from its depths. “What is it?”

  “I call it a Red Alert.” At my blank expression she tilts her chin to the back of the coffeehouse, in the direction of the mystery figure cloaked in shadow, and my throat tightens. “She’s been coming in here every week for the past two months and always orders the same thing. Small firebean coffee, roasted twice for maximum spice. No cream, three sugars, no pastries. Same thing, every time.”

  “She?” Oh, you sneaky vixen. “Rose, are you trying to set me up with a customer?”

  “She’s a cute one. Bit of the brooding type, though—and she did not appreciate the complimentary sarcasm on her first visit, let me tell you—but she’s a redhead so she gets a pass.” The blonde waggles her eyebrows. “And she’s definitely into pussy.”

  I don’t think my cheeks can get any redder. This is a bad idea. “I’m not doing this.”

  But she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Oh yes you are. You get to help me by delivering this already-paid-for drink to a loyal patron while I’m shorthanded, and I get to help you by reigniting the fire in your libido before you turn into a soulless mage who may never know love again.” Her smirk widens as the heat in my face intensifies to an unnatural degree. “What are friends for, right?”

  “That’s not how it works,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re not even that busy.”

  “Oh, don’t be that way.” Rose purses her lips. “Do it for me?”

  I’m about to argue but a sigh comes out instead and I take the cup. There’s no point; once Rose has made up her mind, it’s almost impossible to change it.

  “Fine, this one time I’ll do you this favor. Be back before you can blink.” Without another word, I turn on my heels and walk over to the shadowy corner.

  Rose really needs to install more lighting in here, it’s dangerous only having half the coffeehouse illuminated at night. Someone could trip.

  My footfalls are like claps of thunder in my head, each step a jolt of electricity to my nerves. Just bring this stranger her drink and leave, that’s all I have to do. I don’t need to give in to Rose’s weird, twisted little matchmaking game for her own satisfaction. I just need to—

  I notice the chair sticking out a second too late and before I have time to react, my shoe catches on the leg and I tumble forward.

  It’s like I’m falling in slow motion.

  The chair scrapes loudly across the stone tile as it follows me down like a saboteur intent on finishing the job, no doubt drawing the eyes of every last person in this place. As my hands instinctively reach outward to brace my body for impact, the coffee cup flies from my grasp. The steaming dark liquid sails through the air like an arrow fired from a crossbow and I watch on in horror as it splashes with near-perfect precision against its mark.

  A guttural hiss and a string of curses punctuate the once quiet atmosphere and with a groan I bury my face in the floor.

  There are only a handful of times where I’ve been so embarrassed that I wished a Rift would open up and swallow me whole.

  This is one of those times.

  “Dani,” I hear Rose call out, her voice quivering with what I can only assume is laughter. “You alright, baby?”

  No. I want to die. And, judging by the way that several choice expletives are bellowing from the chair’s other casualty like death threats, I think that’s a very high probability.

  Death by coffee was not in my cards tonight, and yet here we are.

  Something cold and wet presses against my arm and hesitantly I look up.

  The cat sits back, little pink tongue darting out to lick its lips as slitted golden eyes appraise me with . . . if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that he was laughing, too.

  “I know,” I murmur, my voice muffled. “I’m a mess.”

  The tile feels cool against the heat flaring in my cheeks but I don’t dare move. Maybe if I just lay here, perfectly still, the world will keep turning and it’ll be like this little accident never happened.

  The cat continues to stare, his sides expanding and deflating with each breath, and after a few seconds I hold out my hand. He dips his head down to sniff my palm and it’s then that I notice the flecks of gold in his fluffy black fur and the tiny horns poking up between his ears. My eyes widen and in my excitement I wiggle a finger, scratching my nail against his chin.

  It’s been so long since I’ve seen a khaji; native to the snowy hills of the Northern Plains, they are widely considered an endangered species and rarely are they seen in the city.

  The last time I ever laid eyes on one was over a decade ago.

  A pair of scuffed black boots appears next to the khaji and I freeze. Seven hells.

  “I’m not sure if you were trying to kill me or yourself with that little stunt,” a voice says, the deep husky timbre sending shivers up my spine. There is a hidden danger in her tone, almost predatory, and I hope to the gods that I’m not on the menu tonight.

  “Myself, obviously.”

  To my surprise, she snorts. “Well, you failed on both counts. Looks like we both survived.”

  The weight of the chair is lifted from my legs and a moment later a calloused hand lowers itself into my view. Reluctantly, I accept her offer to help.

  “Thank you,” I stammer as I clamber to my feet, dusting off my pants to avoid meeting her gaze. A sharp pain radiates in my wrist, most likely sprained from the fall, but I bite my tongue. “Can I get you a napkin or—”

  She brandishes a hand towel, the fabric already stained a deep brown. “No need. But you owe me a new drink.”

  My eyes follow her movement in the dim light as she scrubs at the noticeable wet spot on the front of her shirt, taking in her appearance for the first time.

  She is tall and lean, with broad shoulders and an imposing stance. Dressed in a black leather dustcoat that reaches her knees, hooded undershirt, and fitted dark pants, her outfit complements her athletic build very well. Auburn hair cascades around her like a fiery waterfall, framing her angular cheekbones as she arches an eyebrow ever so slightly.

  Rose was wrong—she isn’t cute, she’s godsdamn gorgeous.

  “Yeah,” I say, my skin prickling as I avert my gaze. “No, of course. That’s the least I can do. A Red Alert, was it?”

  At her nod I turn and walk back up to the front, keeping my head down so the other customers can’t see the embarrassment coloring my face. I quickly place the order but Rose is already a step ahead.

  “You are so dead,” I growl, ignoring her pity-giggles as I slap a few scrips onto the counter. “I’m serious, Rose!”

  “This has got to be the saddest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” she chuckles, handing me the fresh cup. “I really hope you get laid after this!”

  I’m going to kill her for this.

  “I cleared you a path,” the woman remarks as I near her table. “Though I have to commend you on your aim. Right on target even as you’re falling flat on your face.”

  Is, is that a joke?

  A nervous smirk flitters on my lips as I take the bait. “Don’t worry, I think I’ve hit my quota of humiliating myself for one night.” I set the peace offering down just as her khaji rubs against my legs.

  “Careful,” she warns when I crouch down to pet him, but as I run a hand along his back she cocks an eyebrow curiously.

  “He’s not so bad.”

  She grunts and sips her drink. “Funny. He’s not usually this friendly with other people.”

  I scratch the cat under his chin, chuckling as he purrs, and a wave of nostalgia hits me. “He reminds me of another khaji I used to know, actually. A friend and I rescued him when we were kids. Oh, gods, what was his name? It was something silly, like the kind of name only children would think of. Something like—”

  “Spooky?”

  I laugh. “Yes, that’s it! I remember now! It was an adorably frightful little thing. All teeth and claws. Hearing it out loud, though, it does sound pretty ridiculous.” A creeping thought settles in the back of my mind like a whisper, stilling my hand, and slowly I raise my head. “But how did you know . . . ?”

  My voice trails off, the words dying on my tongue as I scrutinize every detail of the woman seated before me and suddenly everything snaps into focus.

  The red hair, a little darker now but just as wavy and untamed as it was in our youth.

  The familiar way her jaw tenses and her brow creases when she’s lost in thought.

  The way her gaze cuts right through me.

  How did I not see it before?

  In the amber glow of the lanterns, piercing golden-brown eyes with subtle flecks of green and blue stare back at me, pupils dilating with surprise and recognition in equal measure as the woman studies my face. Like she’s staring at a long-forgotten memory.

  My heart flutters and I swallow the lump forming in my throat as a name I haven’t uttered aloud in ten long years slips from my lips.

  “Ashe?”