Page 28 of The Rook

Shale rained down from behind her, and she spun just as a lion leapt from an impossibly thin shelf of rock above Tempest’s head. She released the arrow and it pierced the beast in the shoulder. Her mouth bobbed as he shifted mid-drop and landed in a crouch, golden hair ruffled in the breeze.

Hands tried to grab her, but she whipped her bow around, keeping them back. Weight slammed into her from the side,and she found herself staring into the pale eyes of the lion shifter. He slapped a medicinal-smelling cloth over her mouth.

“That hurt,” he snapped. “You could have killed me.”

Tempest wiggled and fought harder, involuntarily taking in a breath. Her muscles twitched, and then her eyelids fluttered closed, sending her plummeting into darkness.

Tempest opened her eyes slowly,her head aching.

She hurt too much to be dead, so that was something. Slowly, she glanced around the room. It was a luxurious room, just as expensively furnished as the cave she had woken in last time.

The Jester.

She’d know his gaudy taste anywhere. Why had he felt the need to knock her out? He could have just thrown a bag over her head and called it good. Staging an ambush and the drugging? That had the Jester written all over it.

Tempest rubbed her eyes and willed herself to be more alert. Whatever they’d drugged her with hadn’t completely left her system. Her basic bodily functions were moving too slowly. She could have woken up somewhere worse. At least it wasn’t a prison.

Some cages are gilded.

The fact that he had now moved her twice while she was unconscious made her ill at ease. A person was at their most vulnerable while they slept. She stretched her muscles. Everything seemed to be okay. Other than being exhausted and bruised, she was whole, which was a bloody miracle in and ofitself. She slowly sat up and inspected the room a little more closely.

The bed was large—as large as King Destin’s. A soft bedspread lay over her legs, embroidered with woodland creatures. She ran her fingers along the decoration, pausing when her fingertips brushed over a fox. Tempest averted her gaze from the golden eyes of the kitsune stitched upon it. She’d been much too interested in foxes of late. It was unhealthy.

Tempest eyed the empty fireplace. She’d assumed they were underground somewhere beneath the mountains. How did they ventilate the fire? Wouldn’t the smoke escaping give up the location of this place? Thoughts for another day. A shiver worked through her. How she wished there was an actual fire burning in the hearth. She was freezing.

Beside the hearth, however, was a familiar mountain of a man sleeping on a rocking chair, bringing back memories of the shifter village and the cottage she’d spent weeks recovering in.

Briggs.

Scooting to the edge of the mattress, she swung her legs off the bed in order to hug her friend. She’d missed the healer. Tempest stiffened as she realized how scantily she was dressed. Her cheeks burned, and she used the covers to hide her figure. Who had undressed her? She scoured the room for something suitable to wear, but all that was available was a long, silken nightgown lying on the end of the bed. When she reached out to rub the fabric between her fingers, it was like water.

A stupid grin crossed her face, and Tempest stamped down her joy.

Beautiful, but impractical. The garment wouldn’t keep her warm at all.

It’s your underclothes or the nightgown.

There wasn’t much of a choice.

Tempest spared no time in slipping it over her head and sighed when the fabric whispered over her skin. It was the softest thing she’d ever worn. She stood and hissed as her toes touched cold stone. Her skin pebbled, and she yanked the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders before padding across the floor to a patchwork rug in green-and-gold thread near the hearth.

“Briggs,” she whispered.

His dark eyes flashed open, and he immediately grinned. “I was wondering when you would wake up,” he said.

“You were the one sleeping.”

His smile widened as he stood. “I was just waiting for you.” He pulled her into a crushing hug. For the first time since she’d left the capital, she felt comfortable and safe.

“It’s good to see you, too, Briggs,” she wheezed against his chest. After a few seconds, she pushed out of his arms and smoothed down the skirt of her borrowed nightgown. “How long have I been out?”

“Long enough,” he paused and then added, “Pyre will be with you soon.”

No, the dark prince would grace her with his presence now.

She shook her head. “No, not soon. Now. Take me to himnow. I’ve jumped through all these hoops—I nearly died on the road and got sold off to a smuggler—just to follow his stupid orders. He will see me now, or he will not see me at all.”

Briggs pulled a face. “He won’t like this.”

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