Page 60 of The Rook

“I know, which is how I don’t understand why you are letting her roam around unclaimed. Mates are a rare thing.”

“We aren’t compatible.” He stared down into his Hound’s face, her eyes flickering behind her lids. She was the light, and Pyre the darkness. “I can’t afford to be distracted.”

“That’s rubbish, and you know it,” Briggs barked.

“Even if I tried to court her, Tempest would refuse me.” His gut clenched as he remembered the look on her face when she’d left him after he revealed his second human form. Betrayal. He knew the look well. “She will never fully trust me.”

“She cares for you even though you’ve been an idiot. Come clean now, claim your female, defeat the king, and then give me nieces and nephews I can spoil.”

Tempest cuddled into his side, and his heart beat faster. If only it could be like this always.

“You’re being weak.”

He glared at Briggs. “This is not just about me and my wants. My decisions affect an entire nation of people. She’s working with the enemy. I cannot fully trust her, even if I wish to.”

“You’ve mistrusted everyone around you for so long that you’re going to miss out on the greatest gift anyone of us could receive.” His friend blinked at him slowly and then sank back into his chair, continuing to rock. “Tempest is special, and while I might not be interested in her, there are others who don’t have your reservations. She will be snapped up by another from right beneath you if you tarry.”

“Are you done?” Pyre asked, his tone cutting. His claws lengthened, and he tried to breathe slowly to calm himself.

Briggs nodded. “I’ve said my piece.”

Pyre glanced away and then back to the female in his arms. “I knew you were trouble.”

TWENTY-SIX

Tempest

Whatever miracle Briggs and Nyx had created, it did the job. Tempest had never recovered so quickly. The next two days that followed passed by in the blur. Tempest did her best to blend in with the goings-on of the palace, listening to conversations and gossip and taking note of every person who came to stay for the masquerade. By the time the ball itself was mere hours from starting, she’d learned three things.

First: she wasn’t alone in her doubts about the Jester. Several people were of the same opinion as her—that he was too brutal, that he had no plan past taking the throne from Destin. They wanted a concrete strategy for after the war was over, but there was none. Others, by contrast, thought Pyre wasn’t being brutalenough. She’d have to look out for the bloodthirsty ones. They were a slippery lot.

Second: not a single person was willing to do anythingabout their feelings of dissent. They were content to grumble and bicker in the shadows.

Third: supporting the Jester was their best—and, seemingly—only option. Which meant she had only to provide a viable alternative, and she could likely steal a chunk of his allies, maybe his whole operation.

That both pleased and unnerved her. Were people so easily turned, so easily won? And if so… how easily would they sellherout?

She shuddered.

“Temp?”

She turned at the sound of the voice. Nyx stood there, a gentle smile on her face as she held out a hand for her.

“What is it?” Tempest asked. Only then did she realize how low the sun was through the open balcony. “Oh. It’s time already.”

“Yes.” Nyx laughed. “It is time to get ready.”

“I… did not bring anything to wear,” Tempest replied, bashful and somewhat ashamed. She had felt so proud, standing up to the Jester by refusing to bring a dress. But this masquerade was more than simply an opportunity for him to show her off; she needed to look like a calm, collected, striking queen if she was going to rally people behind her, not a tired and bedraggled girl in worn leather trousers.

Nyx grinned, her eyes dancing. “Trust me, I expected that. As did my brother. Come, follow me. I have a surprise for you.”

She swallowed a gulp as Nyx led her to the bedroom.

Here’s hoping she has good taste.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Tempest

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