Page 80 of Reign

The mention of Tempest makes me flinch, but Chase doesn’t see it as I shimmy my underwear back on.

“Don’t shake your ass,” Chase warns on a growl, “Unless you want me to part it and slam into you again.”

“Such a Romeo,” I mumble, but my core sparks with joy. I manage to temper it with the reminder of how screwed up my life and the life of the people around me have become.

“There’s not enough time to approach this gently,” I say while turning to face him. “While we wait, Sabine and your father have figured out a thousand different ways to defy us. It’s better to amass an army now, outnumbering the king and queen and ultimately, outvoting them. They can’t kill them all, and even if they tried for ruin, my email is still relevant and out there.”

Chase voices his agreement. “The Viscounts don’t know about this meeting. The Nobles that are coming, they can be reasoned with. Informed. Their minds changed.”

The implications sink in. “How confident are you that they won’t betray us?”

“Callie.” Chase places his hands on my cheeks. “Your email blast didn’t work because you weren’t writing to the people who could handle that kind of warped reality, especially if nobody but an anonymous sender was behind it. These new Nobles? They’ll listen to you. Hear what you have to say. And then we can decide what to do about Sabine and how best to protect you.”

I search his eyes. “I can’t ask for something like that. You could lose your position in the society because of this. A society that, if you’re not around, won’t see how damaged and ignorant they’ve become.”

“Seriously? Callie, what’s going on with you? You were so confident the other night.”

“That was before…” I close my eyes. “I’m realizing how selfish I’ve become, asking people to sacrifice so much for me. They shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to.”

“Crazy-talk,” he says, stroking my cheek. “What other choice do we have, other than you breaking into the temple and finding the binder, Sabine’s supposed murder book? Or waiting weeks for DNA results? If I’m not mistaken, these require wide enough gaps of time while we research and wait that could epically fuck us over.”

I frown at his opinion so expertly tossed in my face, but his point sticks. “You win. We’ll give it a shot. But I’d like you to come with me to your lake house after where I’m meeting Emma and Eden. We all need to talk.”

“Hashing out our differences.” He squeezes my shoulder with a pained expression. “How grand. Emma still wants to kill us, you know.”

“I know,” I say on a forlorn exhale.

Shuffling turns our attention to the small corridor leading into the room, and Tempest appears first. He nods at Chase, but I brace for when his eyes shift to me, unsure of what I’ll find there.

Those unwavering, sharp green eyes of his pin me to the floor, but they’re steadying. Encouraging. “‘Sup, soulmate,” he says before draping over one of the pews, both legs spread and his hands folded between them expectantly.

I flick a glance up at Chase, rigid and immobile beside me. His stare could melt volcanos, but Tempest isn’t affected by it. I wonder if he has any idea about Eden’s feelings for him and what he’d do about it if he did. As much as Eden thinks I wouldn’t, I’d shove his balls into his throat if he hurt her.

Chase moves to greet each boy who follows by name. James is next, then Riordan, and a handful of others whose names I don’t catch, because of my fixation on Riordan.

His brown eyes don’t contain the mysterious depths of Chase’s. No, he shows emotion as easily as dropping a towel from his naked form. And he’s glaring at me.

My focus skitters to the side as I try to sort through the reasons he would want to throw so much hate at me.

“Gentlemen,” Chase says once everybody’s seated. Nobody chatted or slapped each other’s backs on their way in. And not one commented on Chase’s unbuttoned shirt. “I assume you all know why we’re here.”

“Where’s our king?” someone calls from the last pew.

Tempest slams a fist against the wood and stands. “Your prince is here, the king’s legacy. That should be enough.”

“And what about her?” the guy retorts. “Your ex and Tempest’s sloppy seconds. Do you have the same explanation for this chick entering our sacred crypt?”

“In any other circumstance,” I say before Chase can decapitate anyone, “it’d be both hilarious and eye-rolling to listen to a freshman whine over cooties in his secret clubhouse, but the fact that you have a flaccid dick and I don’t doesn’t really help you out here.”

A few guys hoot at my gall. I kind of like clapping back. But I still shiver in front of these boys—tapped and initiated to become manipulative, powerful men—and it takes a lot of will-power not to shuffle behind Chase’s back and peer around his protective form.

“There’s no need for the king to be here,” Chase adds, giving me an encouraging smile, “because what we have to say doesn’t involve the Nobles of the past.”

A few boys tap their feet. Some cross their arms. Chase isn’t winning over the room, which is a disconcerting turn of events considering his charismatic air usually commands any space he steps into.

“Get on with it then,” someone else says.

Chase’s jawline juts out. He narrows his eyes at the idiot who dared to speak, and I wonder if I’m about to witness a vicious Noble punishment.

---