“And you? I can’t quite figure you out.”

It’s Alana turn to face the inquiring gazes of Kierra’s parents. So far, my blond hero has been distracting herself with food and drink. Being faced with their attention, she stiffens like a doe in the sight of predators but she doesn’t shy away. I stifle the urge to cheer her on as she meets Morgene’s gaze. “Alana James. I fight titans.”

“Another fighter in the clan, huh.” Morgene constantly moves when she talks. She slithers and slides like a damn snake. Tiny movements that make the eyes latch onto her, follow her. Makes it impossible to relax around her. “Are you also hiding an entertaining secret under your skin? Perhaps I should search for it while Orum plays with Lou.”

“Hey.”

Her gaze snaps to me.

“Same thing as when Kierra introduced us.”

“What does that mean?” Alana huffs, annoyed. Whether she’s annoyed that I just defended her, I had to, or because of something else I don’t know.

“It means she will not do something unsporting,” Kierra answers. “It is unseemly for a fighter to target someone that cannot offer a proper fight.”

The explanation doesn’t make Alana feel better. I’d wager it did the opposite, but she doesn’t lash out, soldiering through whatever morose thoughts are behind her stern frown. “You’ll get a ‘proper fight’ one day.”

“Cute. At least she has spine.”

“And a moral compass,” I add, feeling an urge to extol her virtues. What feels like a lifetime ago when I sat across from Morgene for the first time, I was relieved when she dismissed me as her daughter’s human fascination. I still wouldn’t care if she continued to ignore me. Seriously, I mean it. There is something very unnerving about her attention. Probably the stories about her Twilighter ancestors working on my nerves.

However, I hate the idea of her dismissing Alana. She may not be the strongest, or the most talented, or the smartest, or, er. Well. She’s not the best at anything but there’s a part of me that still thinks she’s the best of us. She doesn’t like me calling her a hero or a saint, but I can’t help seeing her as both. And knowing that there’s a saint beside me makes me better.

“She has a light affinity and a great sense for battle. Braver than both of us combined. Probably comes from fighting titans, creatures as big as walking hills and that wield the strongest magic I’ve ever seen. Won’t be long before—oof.”

I look over at Alana to as her foot that just kicked my ankle retreats to see her face flushed the faintest hint of pink. Can someone stop themselves from blushing? The strain in her expression says she’s trying. “What she’s saying is, I’m still training but I’m not a flower.”

“That much is obvious.” Morgene sets her glass down and slowly stands. “Good, everyone’s been introduced. Is that good enough?”

Orum is the next to stand. “It is time.”

Saints, what happened?! We were all having a proper conversation and…and well I guess they were just playing along. This is what they’re here for. Everything else was just buildup. Sigh.

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Ah, well. I do think we’ve made progress as a clan. I wouldn’t wager that they approve of us, but they clearly don’t hate us either…I think? Which was a serious concern with Orum. Given our first meeting was him trying to kill me, tonight has been nothing but progress. Shying away from their traditions isn’t going to improve anything.

Geneva.

Remmings jumps as the succubus suddenly appears behind and puts her hands on his shoulders. I’m not surprised when he doesn’t fight. “I apologize for this,” I say as I slowly stand. “You have no reason to believe me, but I hate flippant use of the mental affinity. What the Grimoires did to the minds of innocents was disgusting and I hate doing anything that reminds me of them.

“But you are no innocent and this isn’t flippant. The king is no friend of mine and, if the saints don’t descend and talk sense to him, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be an enemy. Can’t have you slipping him crucial information and I’m obviously not going to believe you if you say you won’t. Don’t worry. You won’t be hurt.”

“There is no guaranteeing that,” he says with a sigh. “You’re taking a blade to my memory. Who knows what will get nicked?”

Geneva chuckles and leans against his chair, crossing her arms over his chest. “Mastery is control. If you have no control, then you are not a master, boy. So long as my summoner demands I leave you unharmed, then my magic will not so much as touch anything that it doesn’t need to.”

“And let’s leave it there.” It’s bad enough he, a mental master, is about to be humbled by having someone stick their fingers in his mind with far more skill than he can even imagine. No need to make it worse by letting Geneva emasculate him.

“Lou.” I turn to Talia. She is watching Geneva and her father-guardian impassively. Some might be unnerved by her cool pragmatism in this situation, as the expected action would be for her to heatedly object to his treatment, but I find it nothing but admirable. Her actions could be deemed cold, but I see it as resoluteness. She has tied her fate to us. Remmings acted against us. It truly is as simple as that to her. That decisiveness of hers is impressive. “May I?”

I have no idea what she’s asking but… “Sure.”

“You are to replace his memories of tonight’s conversation where we discussed Lou’s humanity and the possibility of dragons of the north with something innocuous but believable given the context of the dinner. You will erase any possible triggers that could make him question the new memories. You will not leave behind any triggers or clues that would make him suspect mental interference. You will not influence his mind in any other way. You will not cause him pain if it is in anyway avoidable but, if he comes to harm, you will heal hm as soon as it’s possible without interfering with your task of altering his memories of tonight.”

She turns to me when she finishes. “Treat those orders as if they came from me,” I say numbly, still contemplating her wording. Saints, the part about replacing his memories instead of just wiping them is genius. I don’t doubt Geneva’s work but he’s the head interrogator and knows I have succubi. When he sits down to write up a report about tonight, he’ll be doing it in the company of suspicious mental casters. Of course they’d notice if he has gaps in his memory. It’d only be logical to assume mental interference.

Whether they could unravel Geneva’s work is a mystery, as brute force can accomplish a lot…unless she wants them to. Then they’d definitely find out. Damn it straight to the Abyss, there’s a whole other dimension to the mental affinity that I don’t consider when I give that creature orders, isn’t there?

“As expected of my daughter.” He speaks in a grumble but there is a distinct note of pride in Remmings’ voice. He slowly pushes up from his chair, still holding onto the bottle of Herbanacle. “Let’s get this over with it.” He lays a hand on Talia’s shoulder. “Whatever else can be said about your decision, I’m glad you’re not neglecting your talent.”

“Never.”

Geneva’s tail swings with amusement as she follows him out of the dining room. Watching them leave feels terrible. I’m a complete villain now, aren’t I? Not that long ago, it would have been a struggle to give Geneva that order. Tonight, it didn’t take a thought. As soon as he tried to send that message, I immediately resolved myself. Wasn’t even a question.

Too bad good intentions aren’t a quarter as efficient as ruthlessness.

Ah, well. I may walk a darker path, but I won’t lack for company. I have my lovers, my servants, my cousins, my few friends, and now my in-laws who are eagerly following me to the field behind the estate so they can pull me apart to see what’s inside.

There are worse lives to live.