The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles) Read Free Page A

you happen to be in the country. Either run this thing or don’t.” The swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room banged open. Seph froze in the doorway when he saw Leesha and Will, then he strode on past them and into the hall.
    Whoa, Leesha thought, meeting Will’s eyes. Go, Seph.
    “He’s right, you know,” Downey said, her voice carrying from the other room. “If we’re going to live in England, we’re going to have to stop second-guessing him.”
    “You don’t think a bit of counsel would—”
    “You don’t offer counsel, Lee,” Downey said. “You have a rather unfortunate habit of bulldozing over people. When it comes to our son, you have just run into your first brick wall. Now let’s go out and say our good-byes before we completely ruin this party.”
    Leesha and Will looked at each other, stowed the salad in the refrigerator, and fled.
    By now, the dancing had started, though the band wasn’t yet on stage. Nothing ventured, Leesha thought, and looked for Jonah. She found him out on the terrace with a tall girl dressed like a thirties club singer, down to the lacy gloves, finger waves, and red gardenia. A girl Leesha didn’t recognize.
    Something about the intimate way they stood, leaning on the wall, heads together, talking, almost convinced Leesha not to interrupt.
    But not quite. She wasn’t one to step back from a challenge. Nothing ventured, she repeated. “Jonah?” she said. “It’s Jonah, isn’t it? Remember me? Leesha Middleton? We met at the Medieval Faire.”
    Jonah turned away from the wall, and his gaze flicked over her, piercing her skin like icicles. “Right. Good to see you again,” he said, as if it really wasn’t.
    Leesha’s head immediately emptied. Finally, she asked, “Where’s your costume?”
    “I’m with the band.”
    “I am, too,” the girl said when Jonah didn’t introduce her. “I’m Emma Lee.”
    “Ah, I see,” Leesha said. “So you’re not...actually...together?”
    Emma and Jonah looked at each other. “No,” they said simultaneously.
    “Wow,” Leesha said, not sure she believed it. “I can sure tell you’re used to harmonizing.”
    Brilliant, Leesha thought. Entirely smooth.
    “How about you?” Emma asked. “What are you supposed to be?” The sound of the South in her voice was unmistakable. As was the snark.
    Leesha pursed her lips. “I’m a Victorian steampunk vampire, of course. Some people don’t approve of cross-dressing, but—”
    “Cross-dressing?” Emma did a double take, a look of disbelief on her face.
    “You know,” Leesha went on, “wizards cross-dressing as vampires. Some people think it’s really kinky.” Leesha grinned at Emma, and Emma, somewhat reluctantly, grinned back. Her smile disappeared when Leesha turned back to Jonah. “Want to dance?”
    “No, thanks,” Jonah said. “Like I said, I’m working.”
    Leesha’s brain was saying, Shut up! Cut your losses and retreat. But her mouth somehow said, “You’re not working now.”
    “I’m not dancing either.” Jonah turned his back and looked out at the lake.
    Leesha stared at his back for a moment, then said, “Fine. No problem,” and turned and walked away, cheeks burning.
    This isn’t like you, she thought, this absolutely isn’t like you. You’re the one who says no, not the other way around.
    Well. Until Jason. Jason had said no to her, which she’d totally deserved. And then he’d never had another chance to say yes. Tears blurred her eyes, and she stumbled forward, heading for the powder room. But instead, of course, she ran smack into Harmon Fitch. The lower half of him, at least.
    He gripped her elbows to keep her upright. Odd. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that his fingers had no sting to them. No sting at all. Somehow, that was a good thing.
    Fitch read her blotchy face; she knew he must have, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he said, “Hey, glad I ran into you, ha-ha. Do you want to dance?”
    “What?”