Page 76 of The Rook

The wolf closed in on her and set his forehead against hers. “He will not like this. I was sent to fetch you.”

Tempest chuckled. “Pyre’s not my keeper, nor has he ever been.”

Brine smirked. “So stubborn. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Aw, you like me? I knew it.”

“You’re okay,” he huffed, “for a human.”

“Real cute,” Levka groaned. “We need to go, Temp.”

Brine nodded at him. “Get your pup to a healer, Tempest. He looks faint.” He stepped away and she turned her back to him, giving him privacy to shift. “Don’t forget who your enemy is, dog. The city twists its people.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” she said.

“What should I pass on to him?”

Blurrily, she stared at the end of the tunnel leading intoDotae. “That Tempest Madrid brings the Dark Court a pledge of allegiance from the Hounds to fight with you all and take down the menace of the throne.” She paused. “And that I will not be manipulated. I’m not his subordinate, and that I know what he did.”

“Anything else?” Briggs drawled.

“That he was right.” She began to limp toward the city. “War is upon us.”

THIRTY-THREE

Pyre

He swirled the fire whiskey around the glass tumbler, leaning against the stone balcony railing. The winter wind whipped around him, a haunting melody whistling around the craggy peaks, yet the chill didn’t bother him. An advantage of being a shapeshifter. Pyre’s gaze swept the forest below and moved toward the coast in the direction of Dotae—the direction of his greatest enemy.

Destin.

His lip curled and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Even thinking the degenerate’s name angered him. He tossed back his spirits, the whiskey burning down his throat. One day soon the monster would be dethroned.And dead.

A sharp rap sounded at the door. There was only one person who made a single knock sound angry. Brine.

“Enter,” Pyre said lazily.

Brine’s woody scent hit him first as the wolf approachedsilently and stood by Pyre’s side. He slid a look in his second’s direction and then turned his attention to the empty tumbler in his hands before once again taking in the breath-taking view. “Things went well, I take it?” he drawled.

“No one is dead.”

Pyre couldn’t help but smile at that. “And our Hound? I suppose she is sulking in her room?”

Brine chuckled. “When has Tempest ever sulked?”

“Tempest?” Pyre said slowly. That was new. He turned toward his friend and slung a hip against the railing. “On a first name basis, are we?”

The wolf huffed. “She has a way of growing on a person.”

“That she does.” He waited a few moments and then sighed when Brine didn’t continue. He had always been a terrible conversationalist. “So… how is she?” Brine cracked his neck and faced Pyre; his expression unreadable. That wasn’t a good sign. Tempest must bereallymad at him. Well, angrier than normal. “I take it she isn’t happy with me?”

“You could say that.”

He rolled his eyes. Getting information from Brine was like pulling teeth sometimes. “On a scale of slap me to murder me in my sleep—how upset are we talking?”

“Honestly? I think she has hit her breaking point. Where she is normal fire, this time she was ice. A numb sort of rage.”

Pyre pursed his lips and nodded. He wasn’t surprised at her reaction to what occurred in the woods, but he hoped she’d at least give him a chance to explain himself. While he didn’t mourn the loss of the crown prince, he didn’t like killing any more than anyone else.

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