Page 50 of Emperor of Wrath

This has always been Freya’s and my creed: don’t include found family in any bullshit arising from our shenanigans. That fucking car with Ulkan and he-who-will-not-be-named is squarely in “don’t involve Kir” territory.

“Then tell your soon-to-be-husband?” she whispers.

“No. Way.”

“Why the fuck not?”

I smile wryly, pulling my friend into a hug. “Because he’ll use it, Frey.”

She scowls. “Fuck. You’re probably right.”

“And besides, we don’t know it was he-who-shall-not-be-named. It could have been someone gunning for Kenzo, for all we know. I mean…” I shudder.

It would be weird for him to come proposition me at the party and then have some hired gun try to shoot me from a rooftop thirty minutes later.

“Could be Ulkan?”

Shit. I hadn’t even considered that.

The two of us exhale quietly in the silence of the bathroom.

“Fuck,” Freya moans. “I’m making this the worst bachelorette party ever, aren’t I?”

“Hey, it could be worse.”

“How, exactly?”

I grin as I pat her on the shoulder and open the restroom door. “Could be you marrying the fucker.”

Again, in the end, we have an amazing time. The food is amazing, the wine is phenomenal, the company is lovely. It even turns out that the chef is a personal friend of Taylor’s, so he comes out to serve us a specially created dessert himself and talk to us about the food sourcing.

It’s an incredible night, and by the time we walk out, I’m happy enough to ignore the fact that I’m marrying Kenzo soon.

But even the amazing evening doesn’t make me forget that I kissed him.

Worse, that he kissed me back.

Double worse, the fact that when he did, I liked it.

A lot.

I don’t know what came over me that night. I mean, yes, I was drowning in the darkness that being near that motherfucker Valon always brings. And yes, Kenzo was so close to me, and I guess I just felt he was the only lifeline I could cling to, to prevent me from drowning.

But then? I don’t know. It’s been two weeks, and I still can’t figure out why I kissed him like that.

…And then spent the next two weeks dreaming about it, every night.

Wetly.

Shamefully.

Taylor and Fumi have to jet after dinner, since they’ve got important depositions in the morning. When it’s just the two of us outside the restaurant, Freya turns to me and shrugs.

“Well? What sort of trouble are we getting into now?”

“Whatever it is, can I tag along?”

We both turn at the sound of her voice, and I smile widely when I see Hana standing there. I’d invited her to dinner tonight, but she’d politely declined. And yet, here she is.

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