Page 17 of The Rook

Tempest gaped at him. Rude. She had excellent taste and style.

“What for?” she demanded. “Pyre, either you answer my questions or so help me—”

“Leave the city as soon as you can,” he interrupted. “I will find you soon.” Then, he leapt out the window, disappearing from sight at a speed completely impossible for a mere human to achieve.

What had just happened? She blinked slowly. Once. Twice.

“Unbelievable! He is completely impossible!” She glanced around the empty room and back to the window. Tempest had more unanswered questions now than she did before. What was this visitfor?

NINE

Tempest

He’d disappeared like a bloody specter.

Tempest stared out of the window, trying to figure out how he managed to ghost the Hounds’ training yard without being caught. Wicked hell, he drove her nuts. Her fingers twitched at her sides, aggravation pulsing through her veins. His dramatic visit had thrown her off kilter. Why would he risk so much by coming here? Was it a test? Was he spying on her? Was it a test of mental warfare?

She dropped to her bed, bouncing. Tempest leaned back against her pillow. Pyre’s smug expression was burned into her mind. Or was his visit just an adrenaline high for the cocky kitsune? Surely, he wouldn’t be that stupid… Had she really bruised his ego the night before when she’d disappeared? He couldn’t have been that offended if his wolf had escorted her out. Plus, what was she supposed to have done? He’d been in the middle of intimidating a creepy subordinate. Nothing could have convinced her to hang around and witness more of his act as the Jester.

“And besides,” she grumbled, closing her eyes against the headache that never seemed to leave her these days, “the argument we’d been having wasn’t exactly one that would be good to have continued.”

Stop talking to yourself.

Exhaustion and anger were not the best companions while she was trying to outmaneuver the enemy… Well, Pyre was an uneasy ally, at the very least. He wasn’t the hero, and last night proved that even further. He all but flaunted his position of authority in the underworld. Their conversation from the night before still chilled her. Lives weren’t worth anything to him—even the lives of his own men.

How much do you think he values your life?

A wry smile twisted her lips.Not much, she mused. Their relationship was tenuous at best; after last night, Tempest had wondered how they’d interact with each other going forward. With the way Pyre had just treated her, it seemed he had no qualms about going back to the way they were before she knew his identity. What did that mean? She didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. Regardless, she’d have to tread carefully. Pyre was playing games with her. He wasn’t the jovial fox from the forest. He was the Jester. A dangerous criminal with ties to the Dark Court. She didn’t doubt for one second that he would plant a knife in her back if need be.

Not if you get him first.

She stared at the ceiling as her annoyance crept in. He hadn’t explained a single thing to her. Her brows furrowed. Apparently, he didn’t have any important news to pass on, so did that mean she was a side quest? Irritation pricked her at thenotion. Tempest scowled at the ceiling and shoved the feelings down, not wanting to examine why it bothered her so.

Why was he really in the capital?

Tempest breathed in deeply, trying to center herself. Pine, spice, and a male scent swirled around her. She jerked upright and glared at her pillow. Even without a shifter nose, she could scent Pyre on her sheets. What had he done, rolled all over them? She huffed. Why did he smell so good?

He smells of home.

Too enticing.

“Bloody male.”

She forced herself out of bed, hating how her thoughts kept circling back to Pyre, no matter how she tried to wave them off. Tempest yanked the bedding from her mattress. There was no way she was sleeping in a bed that smelled like the Jester. She dropped the linens at the end of her bed and eyed the blank invitation sitting on the trunk. She plucked it from the surface and held it up to the light, inspecting it carefully.

It couldn’t truly be blank.

She turned the card this way and that. And then, between one blink and the next, the invitation caught the last ray of sunlight streaming through her window. Tempest squinted. Etched into the card in an impossibly intricate fashion was, unmistakably, a mask.

“What do we have here?” she whispered.

The handiwork was beautiful. She’d never seen anything like it. Tempest ran her finger over the mask. She couldn’t feel a difference between the art and the card stock. What sort of trickery and magic was this? What was it for? Pyre had said to wear something nice. Could it be for a party or event? Maybe a gathering of rebels? She smiled. If that was the case, there’s noway he would let her near it. She knew he trusted her about as much as she trusted him.

A criminal gathering, then.

It would be so easy to just ignore the Jester’s orders and stay right where she was. He didn’t have any authority over her, but the king did. He’d given her the order to leave on her mission. Glancing around the empty barracks, she sighed. Better to leave now before Destin checked up on her.

She tucked the card into the top of her steel-boned corset and adjusted her shirt, so she was properly covered. Next, Tempest packed her bag—two changes of practical clothing and many more weapons—purposely leaving behind anything that was feminine. The kitsune didn’t get to dictate what she wore.

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