The Irresistible Urge to Fall for Your Enemy (Dearly Beloathed, #1)

by Brigitte Knightley

Outside Fairhrim’s office door was a desk at which sat an owlish little man clattering upon a brass writing ball. He was in Osric’s way, but Osric did not kill him. He wished to make a decent first impression on Fairhrim, after all, and so he merely concussed the man and tucked him neatly under his own desk.

On his right stood a bookcase bursting with tomes with such encouraging titles as Crushing It: Rehabilitation of Seith Channel Compression Injuries and Seith Fibre Ruptures and Avulsions: Protocols for Clinical Treatment and Reversible Interruption of Seith Flow: An In Vitro Study and Seith Channel Transection Injuries. An auspicious collection, given what he was here for. Good to see that Fairhrim was studious. Then, with a whispered “Ah,” Osric noticed that the works had all been authored by Fairhrim herself.

It was hard, being perfect in an imperfect world, but Aurienne managed. If she had a flaw, it was that she was the Best, and she knew she was the Best. Some called it arrogance. She called it competence untainted by performative humility.

The bartender returned with their drinks, and then, for reasons known best to himself, flung himself headlong into the brawl.

It hadn’t been love at first sight, but at last sight—gods, at last sight— Far above, the moon hung like a promise.