Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“E—excuse me?” the starstruck acolyte says, approaching our table nervously. He dips his head respectfully at the wizard but turns quickly to Everett, eyes wide. “You’re the
Everett Frost! I’m—gods, I’m a huge fan. I’m an atypical caster,” he adds almost sheepishly. “Grew up in New York, and my mom and I are both fashion enthusiasts. She’s actually an editor for Vogue, so I’ve been to lots of shows and…again, I’m just a big fan.”
Everett slips into a pleasant, practiced persona I’m sure he perfected for his career, thanking the fan despite Baelfire snorting derisively and Crypt tossing scalloped potatoes across the table at them.
“Sorry to bother you, but…” The acolyte holds up a permanent marker hopefully.
Everett autographs the caster’s arm, politely answering a couple of questions to say he isn’t going to be at Paris Fashion Week next year, and, yes, he is friends with some famous human singer I’ve never heard of.
When the acolyte finally thanks him and hurries away, Maven tips her head.
“Kenzie told me about autographing, but I still don’t understand. Does that happen often?”
“Much more often among human fans.” Everett turns back to his food.
Baelfire scoffs. “Okay, it’s so fucking bizarre to think that you have fans. Clearly, they don’t know what an asshole you are, outside of whatever the fuck models do.”
“I’m not an asshole to everyone. Just you three because you fucking deserve it,” Everett corrects in a grumble. “I happen to be really good with humans. Believe it or not, there’s a reason the Everbound staff assigned me to teach Advanced Human Relations.”
So that’s what he supposedly taught.
Baelfire continues to rib him about it as I refill Maven’s cup of wine. Dinner continues for a while with light conversation until, as has happened with every holiday dinner since the beginning of time, politics arise.
Baelfire makes an offhand comment about Everbound’s recent anti-legacies troubles, and my mentor launches into a tirade about his political views.
“…of course, those immortals relish their influence in the mortal world, but at least the Reformists are not nearly so thickheaded as those blasted Remitters,” the Garnet Wizard says, finally taking a moment to sip his wine.
“The Reformists are the other faction of anti-legacy activists?” Maven clarifies.
He hums. “The Legacy Council labeled them as anti-legacies, and so everyone believes it—but that is utter horseshit. The Reformists lobby for legacies and humans to have equal footing in the mortal world, and they question the current system as a whole. They insist we are far more civilized than monsters and thus should be allowed to mingle with humans freely, choose other careers, and even inter-marry.”
He scoffs at that.
“You disagree with them,” she surmises.
“They’re idealists. Dreamers. If the world could work the way they want, it would take such a major upheaval that it would create far more problems than it could solve. Their intentions are in the right place, but it hardly helps their cause that they were founded by a human who openly fraternized with demons. I disagreed with the council’s decision to execute Amato, but he certainly contributed to the current unrest between humans and legacies.”
Everett chokes on his wine, cursing as he spills it on himself. I raise a brow at him questioningly, but he shakes his head, glancing at Maven quickly before frowning down at his food.
Our keeper is thoughtful as she slides the steak and ham from her plate to Baelfire’s. The dragon shifter pantomimes swooning and kisses her cheek.
“The Reformists sound less insane than the Remitters. After all, the system is archaic,” Maven mutters. Then she pushed her plate away, clearly done as she regards the wizard. “Do you have a training area?”
Shit. I know what this line of question is leading to. So do the others because we all groan in synchrony.
“Indeed, I do. Looking to train more, telum?
From all you’ve told me, I would rather think you lack very little in that department.”
My gorgeous, vicious keeper smiles too sweetly as she looks at the four of us.
“It’s not for me.”
“Hey, we survived First Placement,” Baelfire protests.
“Barely.”
“That was a skewed result,” I argue. “We fought some of the Immortal fucking Quintet, not to mention their band of followers. Take that into account, at least.”
Maven sips her wine. “You four are not getting out of this. Suck it up.”
Everett sighs and telepathically says,
That’s okay. I love even the sadistic, merciless side of you, so I accept the hell that tomorrow will bring.
She downs the rest of her wine, shooting him a look.
Stop using that word.
Admit it, sangfluir.
You love that we can’t get enough of you.
I grin when she flips me off.
“All this telepathy shit is getting so fucking old. You don’t happen to know what made those two pricks bond when I haven’t, do you?” Bael grumbles to the wizard.
My mentor smirks. “You are asking the wrong question.”
“What the hell is that supposed to?—“
Fuck, Everett swears, standing to pull Maven’s chair back.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s freaking out because even though she’s keeping her face free of pain, one of her hands is clutching at her chest.
Do not make a fucking scene, her strained voice echoes in my head.
Damn it all.
I stand, glancing at Crypt. He nods once and vanishes, not needing to be told what to do.
Meanwhile, Baelfire surprises me by not blowing up with shifter emotions in reaction to our keeper’s episode. Instead, he turns to the Garnet Wizard to politely excuse us as Everett walks hand in hand with Maven away from the table.
She’s stopped clutching her chest, but I can see the sweat breaking out on the back of her neck as we walk under the holiday mage lights and pass the other acolyte tables full of stares and glares.
“Leaving so soon, your ladyship?
” that bastard, Parker, mocks from somewhere.
I’ll hex him with some horrible disfiguration later. Right now, I take Maven’s other hand as she keeps pretending everything is fine. I know she doesn’t want to appear weak in front of the acolytes here, which is wise, but knowing she’s in pain is fucking awful.
“Breathe. You’re doing great, Snowdrop,” Everett murmurs gently.
It’s bizarre how soft he is with her when he’s always been such an icy prick.
As soon as we’re out of sight of the Great Hall, Maven sways, choking and clutching harder at her chest.
“Fuck,” she grits, voice breaking. “Something’s wrong. Different. I?—“
Her legs give out, but Baelfire is abruptly there to scoop her up. He hurries toward the guest cottage, cradling her like the precious cargo she is as we follow.
“Crypt will have the medicine ready,” I promise, opening the door and then locking it behind us. Earlier, I gave the incubus a draft of my new batch, the kind she can hopefully take orally, in case we were caught by surprise precisely like this.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.