Page 66 of Taking Jenny
I frowned. “Isn’t that normal for you?”
“They want me to bring a guest.”
Trying not to panic, I looked to Jenny. “It’s too soon. We’re supposed to have a couple more days before Illiapol—”
“Not Jenny.” Mal stared at me.
“Oh,” I said quietly, the knot in my stomach tightening.
“We’re due in twenty minutes,” Mal added. “Pick something to wear that’s more appropriate than those revealing lounge pants, if you don’t mind.”
I looked down at my half-buttoned shirt and loose pants. “Right. Skipping breakfast then.” I offered a weak smile. “Guess I’ll use that time to dress like someone who won’t get executed.”
“Surge,” Jenny cut in suddenly. “I want that lesson. Now.”
He blinked. “Uh…sure? Where—”
“The trail.”
Without another word, she turned and sprinted toward the forest.
Surge looked at me, back at her, then at me again. “Guess we’re training.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, be careful, Tiger. The council’s a nest of drecks.”
I nodded. “I already figured that out.”
Mal stared after Jenny’s abrupt departure, then shifted his gaze to me. “That was weird the way she took off. I would’ve thought she wasn’t mad at you anymore.”
“She’s not. Or at least, she wasn’t.” Her behavior confused me, as well. “We talked it out last night, and this morning was…very nice. Until now.”
“Focus on what’s ahead of you, Tiger,” Longshot advised. “The council is vicious.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m already nervous.”
“Not nearly enough,” Discord muttered.
I raised both hands in mock surrender. “If you’ll all excuse me, I don’t need to be any more anxious than I already am. But I do need to be better dressed.”
I returned to my room and selected a navy Earth suit. Sharp lines, clean cut—intimidating enough for an inquisition, I hoped.
When I returned, Mal let out a low, appreciative whistle. “You look incredible.”
He wore black, tailored so close it hugged every angle of his body. I let my eyes rake over him. “As do you.”
He smiled faintly. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this over with.”
I had hoped the drive to the palace would give me time to think and plan. But the trip ended far too quickly. The closer we got, the heavier my gut felt.
As we walked through the palace corridors, Mal said, “The council isn’t really a council. They’re just a group of sycophants who are scared shitless of Justice.”
“Then why would anyone want to be on it?”
“Because fear is the price of power here.”
I frowned at him. “And you’re on it why?”
He didn’t answer—just gave me an infuriating wink. “Someone in my position is always on the council.”
Before I could press him, he opened a tall set of doors. “Here we are. Good luck.”
