Rook

the Grafter, shifting to get out of his seat.
    “Please don’t get up,” said Myfanwy hurriedly.
At least not until I get you a robe,
she thought ruefully, and with perhaps a twinge of regret.
    He was, after all, exceptionally attractive.

42
     
    M onica Jarvis-Reed sat, cross-legged, on thin air. She sipped from a juice box and drank in the view of the deserted Italian beach below her. Sapphire waves stretched on for miles, crested into white, and then washed onto the sand. The bay was small, with cliffs arching up at the sides and olive-green shrubs drawing a perfect line around the sand. The sun was bright even through her sunglasses, and she was glad that she’d worn a long-sleeved shirt and trousers. Monica lifted a pair of high-powered binoculars from the strap around her neck and peered down as a tall figure in a swimsuit wove through the shrubs and made its way to the lonely beach chair on the sand. She pulled a satellite phone from its clip on her belt and put the phone to her ear.
    “Signal?” she said.
    “Standing by with bated breath” came a bored voice.
    “It’s him. He’s wearing that smirk. And far too brief a swimsuit. Plus, I saw a small puff of smoke when he sat down.”
    “Well, my darling, biometrics from the satellite verify your findings” came the amused answer. “It’s our wayward Bishop. Confirmed.”
    “Okay,” said Monica. “Patch me through to Rook Thomas.”
    T hat’s brilliant,” said Myfanwy. “Yes, please go ahead and take care of that. And then enjoy the rest of your week in Italy. Yeah, thanks, Monica.” She hung up the phone and turned her attention back to the coffee.
    “So if it wasn’t an abusive boyfriend, then what happened to your eyes?” asked Bronwyn curiously. Myfanwy kept her gaze down and continued pouring coffee into three mugs. She added sugar to two of the mugs and milk to one.
    “Airbag,” said Myfanwy, handing one mug to her sister. She picked the other two up and walked into the living room, where Shantay was lounging on the sofa reading a magazine. The American Bishop had arrived in England three days earlier, accompanied by a Rook of Comanche descent and a cohort of lawyers to help negotiate the terms of the merger.
    Shantay accepted the coffee gratefully and pulled her legs up to allow Myfanwy to sit on the couch. Bronwyn sat down in a chair and lifted Wolfgang onto her lap.
    “Airbag?” she repeated.
    “I was in a car accident,” said Myfanwy. “Passenger seat. We got rear-ended, the airbag unfurled, and it hit me in the face.”
    Shantay rolled her eyes behind her magazine.
    “Ouch,” Bronwyn said, wincing. “When did this happen?”
    “The day after we went out partying.”
    “Didn’t your two black eyes cause any problems during your business meetings?”
    “There were some embarrassed stares,” said Shantay, “but your sister is so important that no one was brave enough to ask any questions.”
    “Plus makeup,” said Myfanwy.
    “Plus that,” conceded Shantay.
    “And the whole merger thing is going to work out okay?” asked Bronwyn languidly, stroking Wolfgang just behind the ears. It was clear she didn’t have any real interest but cared that it was a big deal to her sister. Shantay looked at Myfanwy and raised her eyebrows.
    “Yeah,” sighed Myfanwy. “Of course, the details are going to take months to hammer out. There will be lawyers squabbling, and compromises, and arguments. They’ll be too proud to agree to some of our terms, and we’ll be too untrusting to agree to some of theirs, but in the end it will all work out.”
And it will,
she thought.
We’ll bindthem with contracts and oaths and promises of full disclosure. You keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and the Grafters are both.
    In the meantime, we’ll be raising up a new Rook, a new Chev,
and
a new Bishop, and I’m determined to put a few non-powered people onto the Court. And a couple more women. Farrier keeps dropping hints that she wants me as the new Bishop, which is insane. Although…
    Of course, there will be the typical day-to-day weird happenings around the world that we need to tend to. But with the help of the Grafters we’ll be able to do a better job.
    “Well, that’s nice,” said Bronwyn distractedly.
    “Yeah, it’s pretty satisfying,” agreed Myfanwy.
    “And Jonathan will be back in two days,” said her sister. “You’ll finally be able to see him after, what? Twenty-two years!”
    “That’ll be