Diamond Fire (Hidden Legacy, #3.5)(2)

“You look great. Also, if you leave, you’ll miss the best part.”

He nodded to my left. I glanced in that direction.

A sapphire-blue Maserati GranCabrio was parked at the curb. Next to it, directly under my—no, my sister’s—window stood Alessandro Sagredo.

When I first saw Alessandro’s picture shortly before the trials, I thought he looked like the son of a gladiator ready for his first match. That impression was even stronger in person. His face still had traces of softness, but they were quickly disappearing. The lines of his face were becoming hard and precise, but whichever form they would take, one thing remained certain—Alessandro was cursed to spend his life being ridiculously handsome.

My shy quiet sister was leaning out of her window and seemed clearly agitated.

“No!” Catalina declared.

“Why not?” Alessandro’s voice held just the slightest trace of an Italian accent.

“Because what you’re feeling for me isn’t real.”

“Who says I’m feeling anything? I’m just suggesting we go for a drive.” Alessandro nodded at the Maserati gleaming bright blue in the sunlight. “I have the car right here.”

“No.”

Only a few days ago, our family had to undergo the trials to prove that we possessed at least two Primes and therefore could be declared a House. We needed the protections granted to the emerging houses desperately, which meant that I and my sisters had to demonstrate our magical abilities before a panel of Prime judges. Alessandro was Catalina’s test. A powerful Antistasi Prime, he could nullify others’ magic, while my sister possessed the ability to make people love her. They had stood facing each other, with a white line between them. Then Catalina told him a story about our vacation in Florida and by the end of it, Alessandro crossed the line and fought the four people who tried to stop him. He’d shrugged it off in seconds, but my sister was declared a Prime.

“I thought Catalina’s magic wore off with time,” Rogan said quietly.

“It does. I don’t think he’s here because of her magic. He followed her on Instagram before the trials.”

Rogan’s dark eyebrows crept up a fraction of an inch. “And that’s significant why?”

“He is a teenage heartthrob and Herald’s darling with a couple million followers. He followed three people and Catalina. She became Instagram-famous overnight and deleted her account.”

In our world Primes were the most prominent of celebrities. There was an entire social network dedicated to the obsession—the Herald, where members posted speculation, rumors, and fan fic. Alessandro Sagredo, being young, unmarried, and devastatingly handsome, was Prime groupie magnet, and Catalina hated attention of any sort. She had good reasons for it. I would’ve given anything to make it easier on her, but all magic came with a price and my sister had drawn the short stick.

“You need distance,” Catalina declared. “It will wear off with time and distance.”

Alessandro hung his head, his longish brown hair falling over his face. “Per l’amor del cielo !”

I turned to Rogan. “What did he say?”

“No clue.”

“I’m not under the influence of your magic. I’m not climbing the walls to get to you. I’m just here to invite you to go for a quick drive.”

A long pause ensued.

Alessandro tilted his head and gazed at the window. Modern-day Romeo in luxury jeans next to his one-hundred-and-seventy-thousand-dollar steed.

Silence stretched.

“Is there going to be an answer?” Rogan asked me.

“No.”

“She’s just going to leave him standing there?”

“No, I meant that the answer will be no.” I smiled at him. “Let’s go. This is hard enough for Catalina as is, and we’re not helping.”

“I hate that window,” Rogan said, as we got into his car.

Across the street, a heavy crate rose a few inches off the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” I told him. The memory of the last time we had an argument at that window was still fresh. Rogan was a Prime Telekinetic and he didn’t like fighting with me from the street. He’d stacked half of the contents of his motor pool against the wall of our warehouse, so he could get to the window and talk to me face-to-face. “Seriously, this won’t help.”

The crate landed back on the pavement. Rogan drove out of the parking lot. “Poor count.”

I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“Alessandro is a count. Conte di Sagredo. They date back to the twelfth century.”

“Don’t tell Catalina,” I said.

My sister was self-conscious enough around regular people. Carrying on a conversation with someone who came from an old noble family would cause a complete shutdown. She would obsess over every word trying to make sure she didn’t say something embarrassing or draw attention to herself.

It was enough that Alessandro was handsome, a Prime, and a verified teen heartthrob. Throwing a title in there would only make things worse.



The long road veered gently between rugged hills rising from the green cushion of ashe junipers and live oaks. We were climbing our way northwest, into Texas Hill Country. The ground looked dry, with big limestone boulders thrusting through the thin layer of topsoil. After the humidity of Houston, looking out of the car window made me thirsty.