“Of course,” King Fergus mumbled, taking a swig of his own drink. “I didn’t harm your precious Prodigy.”
I snorted. “He was too busy harming himself.”
“I told you there was dirt in my eye!” he exclaimed.
“And yet, the ground still swallowed us,” I muttered, raising my eyebrows over the rim of my drink bottle. “And still, you screamed.”
King Venclaire clapped his hands in front of our faces, his eyes still wide as he stared at us. “We were coming to look for you two. There’s a meeting planned.” His gaze darted to our dirt-streaked clothing. “There’s no time for you to change.”
I shrugged. “I’ll blame it on him since it was his fault.”
“You came out of nowhere,” he griped even as we started to move down the incline behind the other Kings. “My aim was only a little off.”
I jumped back and forth, grinning. “I was trying something new.” I chuckled. “And it worked.”
He huffed. “Won’t work again.”
King Kincaid whispered to King Venclaire, “I got a twenty that says she beats him again.”
King Venclaire nodded, glancing back at us. “I’ll take it.” His attention darted to King Kincaid, narrowing his gaze as he pointed a finger at his eyes. “He’s got that look, and I think he’s actually enjoying himself.”
I glanced at King Fergus, and right before he blanked his expression, I saw a mischievous squint to his eyes. “Oh, bring it. Please, do.” My grin was purely impish, countering his.
Entering the conference room, King Fergus and I were still bantering back and forth, barely noticing how each of the Elders in the room, all in their pristine suits, stared at us. Flopping into a chair next to him, I flicked a bit of dirt on King Fergus, which naturally flew back, straight at my forehead, without him even lifting a finger. I mumbled, “Cheater.”
He was chuckling as a certain Mage hustled into the room.
I blinked, staring at Antonio.
He had on a pair of jeans that hung low on his waist and were barely done up, his belt dangling. He brushed his tousled golden hair out of his face, showing flushed cheeks. His eyes were sparkling, and he quickly started buttoning his white shirt, which was open and showing his slim but muscular build. He muttered, “Sorry, I’m late. I only just listened to my voicemail.” He moved around the table while finishing up his buttons and tucking in his shirt.
I blinked again as he started fixing his belt.
“The message went out three hours ago,” Cahal stated, his eyebrows lowered, apparently not appreciating Antonio’s lack of decorum.
Antonio grinned down at his belt. “I was…busy.”
I blinked again. “You had sex.” It just kind of blurted out, but I had never seen him disheveled like that before.
He chuckled, moving to the bar in the corner. “Yes, I did. Many times with a very talented partner.” His eyebrows rose as he glanced in my direction, laughing at whatever expression I had on my face as he grabbed a water bottle. “Oh, Lil, your innocence is exquisite. You didn’t think I had been celibate all this time? I enjoy doing what I’m good at.”
“Stop.” I shuddered, nowhere near forgiving him yet, but… “That’s too much info for me.” No one liked to think of their dad getting it on. Nor did they want to know they were ‘good at it’.
“Alright.” He sat between King Venclaire, who had his arms crossed and his head down, and Elder Zeller, who was still scowling at him. He pointed at me and King Fergus around his water bottle. “What happened to you two?”
“Dirt boy here,” I tilted my head at King Fergus, “got a little trigger-happy.”
‘Dirt boy’ bristled. “I had mud in my eyes.” His eyebrows rose. “And that’s King Fergus to you.”
I fluttered a hand, firmly put in my place, and told Antonio charmingly, “That’s his excuse and he’s sticking to it.” I started sputtering when dirt from my shirt suddenly lifted and flew into my mouth. I glared at King Fergus, picking dirt from my teeth as he grinned. “And least I didn’t mention the premature part.”
His grin only grew. “And I didn’t mention where you prefer to sit.”
Suddenly, Ezra’s scent wrapped around me, which meant he had definitely arrived, and I felt his heat at my back just as my chair began rolling. I blinked up at him as he turned my chair to the side. “Huh?”
“I want this seat,” he rumbled, shaking my chair. “It sits higher, so it’s more comfortable for my legs.” He tilted his head to the chair next to it. “Take that one.”
My eyebrows puckered, drying dirt falling like dust from my forehead. The chair next to me appeared no different height-wise. But his mien expressed he was prepared to argue with me if I opened my mouth. He and I hadn’t really talked much this past week, both of us keeping busy, and I really didn’t want our first discussion to be an argument, so I assented and got up from my chair — leaving dirt behind — and sat in the chair directly next to it.