Page 36 of The Rook

And then there was Pyre…

His fighting style intrigued her. He was just as playful in fighting as he was in everyday life, but make no mistake, he was just as deadly as Mal when he wanted to be. She wiped a hand down her face. From their very first match, she’d been intrigued, and though she was loath to admit it, Tempest enjoyed their sessions more than she should. Pyre wasconstantly in motion. It seemed as if his feet never touched the floor. Even so, he seemingly found it more interesting to dodge her attacks than attempt to land any of his own.

It was an intricate dance.

And intimate.

She swallowed and tamped down the butterflies that tried to take flight in her belly. It was easy to become enamored with the man one sparred with. Emotions and adrenaline were up. Chemistry was understandable, but if she let any feelings develop… that was too dangerous. She couldn’t get wrapped up in the Jester. Any attraction would get her in trouble eventually. While he strived to only show her the playful, fun parts of his personality, she’d always experienced the darker parts. They were deal-breakers. It was important to keep those in mind.

She looked at the door and willed herself to get up. It was late. For a normal household, people would be asleep, but not here. The Dark Court came alive once the sun set. Which worked well for her. While the degenerates were drinking and causing mischief and mayhem, she was exploring the strange mountain palace mostly without disruption. She’d gotten into a few scrapes with loudmouthed, randy lay-abouts on more than one occasion when exploring the place, though the fighting never came to much. A dagger lodged between their thighs was all it took to send most of her would-be opponents running off like frightened children. Her lips twitched. It even scared dragons off.

Pyre had given her permission to explore every nook and cranny of the place. But despite this, she was convinced thatsomethingwas hidden in its depths that she wasn’t supposed to find. But she hadn’t found anything—yet. It was only a matter of time.

With a groan, Tempest hauled herself from the floor. Her whole body ached, and she longed for bed. She snatched the bloody linens from the floor and tossed them into the bin on her way out of the sparring room. Chills rippled down her arms as she entered one of the draughty hallways. The palace was so cold. There weren’t enough fires to warm the place. The lanterns cast writhing shadows against the stone walls, and she frowned as she moved down the hallway. It was much too dark for her taste.

She wandered down staircases and corridors, memorizing them as she went. Even though her thighs protested the stairs, she was determined to find the dungeons. Surely, they were on the lowest floors, but who knew? The Jester was eccentric. Maybe he liked to toss his prisoners from the ramparts?

Tempest sighed as the air warmed. She liked this part of the journey. The air was warmer here, though more suffocating. It was like breathing water, but she preferred it to the draughts on the upper floors. The haunting breeze whispered secrets and betrayals in her ear. She ran her right hand along the wall of the spiraling staircase. There was so much to learn. Information was key when she dealt with Destin. He wasn’t an idiot. She needed something that would appease him. While training was fulfilling, she hadn’t gained any more information… Her lips thinned. The annoying kitsune was keeping her out of the loop.

You’re not here to look pretty. Dig deeper.

The scuff of a boot against stone caught her attention. Tempest paused. Just a drunk knave or something more insidious? The footsteps quicken. Winter’s bite, she didn’t have time for this. She took two stairs at a time and ducked into the first corridor she came across. Fighting on stairs was just stupid. She sprinted into the darkened hallway twenty pacesand then turned to face the stairway, pulling daggers from her wrist sheaths. Her breath sawed in and out of her chest. Tempest scowled at the doorway when two shifters burst into the hallway. She didn’t have time for this. Her body ached, and she didn’t want to fight anyone. Why couldn’t they leave her alone?

They paused. Her pulse leapt. Not just shifters. One was a giant. The enormous man took a slow step closer, a weak light playing over his face. There wasn’t any kindness there, only malice.

“Would you like to play?” the giant asked softly, menace blanketing his tone. Her jaw clenched. Whatever happened next would hurt.

“Yes, she wants to play,” the slithering voice of the shifter said as he emerged from the shadows behind the giant. She fought a chill as a forked tongue flicked from his mouth. A reptilian shifter. The only question… was he venomous? She couldn’t allow him close enough to find out.

The giant grinned and pulled a broadsword from his sheath with an evil hiss. Wicked hell, a broadsword? Really. He raised his heavy sword and charged. She dodged beneath his guard and popped to her feet, just in time to parry an attack from the shifter. He was fast. She sliced at his arms, and he bared his teeth in a hiss.

Ratsbane. A snake, not a lizard.

She spun away and grunted as she met the giant’s second attack. Her teeth clacked together from the strike that rattled her very bones. Her spine cracked against the stone wall, and she cried out as pain ricocheted through her system. She wouldn’t last long if she kept taking hits like that. She needed to fight smarter.

Tempest bared her teeth and ducked away, slashing at the giant’s abdomen.

“Stupid little wench!” the giant growled.

Tempest panted, keeping both men in her sight. Her legs wobbled. She shouldn’t have trained so hard today.

Dig deeper. You’re not weak.

Her fingers clenched her daggers. She hadn’t broken for Mal, the Jester, or King Destin. She would not break now, especially to such unsavory brigands. If she gave them the slightest bit of weakness, they’d tear her limb from limb.

“So, boys, are you just going to stand there all day, or can we crack on?”

Her words did the trick. It riled both men, and they attacked.

She fell into a dance of sorts, defending herself. Her arms were shaking, and sweat slicked her body to the point that the hilts of her daggers slipped in her palms. She needed to get out of there. The snake man darted forward, and she feinted backward, her left foot slipping, twisting her ankle.

Heat and pain exploded around her foot. She hissed and shifted her weight just as the giant slammed his fist into her left shoulder. Tempest crashed painfully to her knees. The reptile shifter sliced her leg. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she cried out. The wound was deep. The giant lifted his huge foot, and only years of training saved her life. She rolled out of the way and stumbled to her feet. She lurched toward the staircase. Maybe she could just roll down them.

A hysterical laugh bubbled in the back of her throat. She was dead.

So much for standing strong.

Blood poured down her leg in waves of red; throbbingagony crashed into her over and over again. She limped to the stairs and glanced over her shoulder. The giant and shifter weren’t attacking. They just stood in the flickering light like specters.

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