Ruby Fever (Hidden Legacy, #6)(20)

“For the love of God,” Mom muttered.

“Who is he?” Leon wanted to know.

“Prince Konstantin Leonidovich Berezin, of Blood Imperial,” I said. “Nephew of Emperor Mikhail II. Son of Grand Duke Leonid Sergeyevich Berezin, who is the Director of the Imperial Security Service.”

Nobody said anything. We all just stared at Konstantin’s image for a long moment.

“This is not good,” Connor said.

My brother-in-law, master of the gentle understatement.

“We don’t know why the Imperium has chosen this moment to become involved,” I said.

“We will shortly,” Alessandro said. “Meanwhile, I want to stress the risks involved.”

He picked up my tablet, fiddled with it, and Augustine Montgomery appeared on the screen. He was tall and lean, with platinum-blond hair cut with razor precision and the face of a demigod. His expensive white suit fit him like a glove, and he looked at the world through a pair of thin wire glasses with amusement and slight derision.

Augustine started out as the owner of our business loan and our boss and potential enemy and ended up becoming a friend. It was friendship on his terms, but friendship, nonetheless. House Baylor and House Montgomery were allies, despite being business rivals, and the fact that Augustine and Connor had been roommates and friends in college only sealed that alliance tighter.

Alessandro nodded at the screen. “Could you describe Augustine for me?”

“Stuck up,” Leon said.

“Business oriented,” Bern said. “Competent.”

“Ruthless,” Arabella said. “But fair.”

“Smart,” I added. “Dangerous. Good at deception.”

“Compassionate,” Runa said.

We all looked at her.

“He is, to a degree. If it wasn’t for him, Ragnar might not be here.”

Augustine was the one who convinced me to drop everything and rush to a hospital roof in the middle of the night to pull Runa’s brother off a ledge with my magic before he did something that couldn’t be undone.

“Anything else?” Alessandro asked.

“Beautiful,” Grandma Frida added.

Alessandro tapped the tablet. A video started on the screen showing a gym empty except for two young men. One was Augustine—tall, platinum-blond hair cut short, and a face that was just a hair short of absolute perfection.

Something was slightly off about this Augustine. He seemed younger. I couldn’t put my finger on any specific detail that indicated his age. He just gave an overall impression of a man in his early twenties, just like the present-day Augustine gave an overall impression of a man in his early thirties. But it wasn’t the age. It was something else.

I scrutinized the image. He was barefoot and dressed in a simple white T-shirt and dark shorts. What was it?

His opponent, a tall dark-haired man, turned and we saw his face. Connor. For a moment I didn’t recognize him, but his blue eyes were unmistakable.

He looked like a different person.

This Connor had all the same features that my brother-in-law did, but the man in the video lacked Connor’s trademark intensity. Connor exuded menace. The man on the screen had none of it. He held himself with relaxed ease. Pre-war Connor, before the seismic shift that turned him into Mad Rogan.

Nevada turned to Connor. “When was this?”

Connor squinted at the screen. “Day after graduation. A week before I shipped out. Where did you get this?”

“That’s not important,” Alessandro said.

“Yes, it is. I don’t have this.”

Nevada looked at Bern. “Tell me you didn’t hack the MII server?”

Bern looked at her for a moment. “Of course not. That would start a war.”

“You got it from De Silva,” Connor said.

Nevada glanced at him. “Who’s De Silva?”

“He’s the one filming.”

On the screen Augustine and Connor squared off.

“Ready?” Augustine asked.

“Any time,” Connor said.

Connor was enormously strong and almost as fast, and once he got going, he was capable of devastating power. Present-day Augustine was as tall as Connor, but he had to weigh fifty pounds less. If you put them side-by-side, Augustine would seem almost fragile by comparison. The idea of them sparring seemed absurd. How did this even happen? Did Augustine lose a bet?

“Today, ladies,” a third male voice said off camera. “Let’s start this tea party.”

On-screen Connor grinned. “Still waiting . . .”

Augustine’s hands came up. The muscles on his arms flexed.

The feeling of wrongness crystallized. This Augustine was larger. His shoulders were broader, his arms more muscular, his legs hard and defined. Standing across from Connor, he was only slightly leaner. Oh my God.

“Augustine was buff,” Runa observed.

“He still is,” I said. “He slims himself down.”

Alessandro smiled at me, proud that I got there first.

“What?” Arabella asked.

“Pause it,” I asked.

Alessandro tapped the tablet and the image on the screen froze.

“Look at the proportion of his shoulders to his chest. The Augustine we know has narrower shoulders, a shallower chest, and longer waist. Even the line of the shoulders is wrong. You can lose the muscle mass, but you can’t alter the skeletal structure of your body. He slims himself down with his magic.”