Page 6 of Trial of Three
“Shade!”
Giving me a long-suffering sigh, the wolf takes two steps away from the center of the bed before falling over on his side like a log.
Accepting the compromise, I settle into the newly vacated space. Small but warm and smelling wonderfully of fur and forest. Shade’s wolf shuffles himself, curling perfectly against my back, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest soothing my thoughts. That is, until I feel something prickling my skin and brush the sheet to discover... “You’re shedding?” I rub stray bits of gray fur off my skin and accept that all hopes of sleep are now gone.
I slip onto the floor, its stone cool and pleasantly rough beneath my bare soles, and take the few steps over to my dresser to pull free a uniform. Loose black breeches, a wine-colored tunic with a wide-open collar—the tailor still not having gotten around to taking in any of the shirts, even the smallest of which are too big on my small frame—and soft leather boots. I take extra care in wrapping a wide sash around my middle, the small touch transforming the uniform into a reasonably tasteful ensemble. I almost toss my nightshirt onto the bed, then remember Shade’s fur and think better of it. Of all the countless hazards I’d imagined of bonding with four elite fae warriors, dealing with shedding was somehow never one of them.
When I start the search for my hairbrush, Shade hops down from the bed and out the window, his body a streak of gray fur.
“What—?” I start to say, cutting off with a curse as I finally find my brush.
On the floor. Its once gorgeously carved wooden handle now a tangle of splinters and teeth marks.
* * *
Despite the early hour,River and Autumn are already in the common room, the male’s large body dominating the space without effort. Even sitting behind a worktable, his sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful, corded forearms, River’s simple movements as he turns sheets of paper are an exercise in control. When he lifts his gray eyes to me, my bones soften in spite of themselves.
“Leralynn.” River rises, the wide sash around his middle tightening against chiseled muscles. “Good morning.”
My name in River’s low voice echoes through me. Stupid. I’m stupid to let the male get under my skin. To harp on a simple kiss. To want him when he has other things on his mind. When we both do.
“It’s good to have you back.” I take a step toward him and kiss his cheek, feeling his body go rigid at the touch of my lips. “What did Klarissa want yesterday?”
“Aside from discussing our upcoming trial, nothing of consequence.” River pulls a chair out for me across the table, his clean, earthy scent wafting off him.
Putting my hand on the chair’s back, I meet River’s gaze.Tell me.Let me in.
The smooth angles of his face don’t budge, his set jaw giving me nothing.
I try not to let the hurt spiraling through me make it to my face.
“Good morning, Lera,” Autumn calls from the couch, balancing a book in one hand and chocolate pastry in the other. The female’s myriad silver-blond braids cascade down her delicate shoulders, one of which is bare beneath a wide-necked purple top that skims her bellybutton. “There is coffee if you hurry, before the rest of the vultures descend upon it.” She points to a tray on the side table, laden with coffee, tea, sweet breads, and fruit. The rich, bitter smell of roasted beans fills my nose as I pour the hot liquid into a delicate painted cup.
“I fear Autumn has already laid claim to the chocolate bread,” River says, passing a scone to me. “I was smart enough not to argue.”
“See, so youcanbe reasonable, rare as the occasion is,” Autumn says. “Speaking of reasonable, Klarissa told Kora last night that her quint is ready for the third trial. Which is horseshit.”
Returning to his seat, River takes a sip of coffee, setting the cup down carefully to avoid the documents. “If Klarissa says the quint is ready, I imagine they are.” His gaze returns to his reading. “The female is practical to a fault. As I see no reason why she might wish Kora’s quint dead, her decree of readiness is likely genuine.”
“I don’t like ‘likely,’” Autumn says, her body tight.
River turns over a page. “Liking it is not a requirement.”
I frown at the male. Being a jerk to me is one thing. Adding Autumn into the mix is unacceptable.
“What are you reading?” I ask, laying my palm flat over his damn papers. “And don’t you dare answer ‘nothing of consequence.’”
River looks from my hand to me and lifts a questioning brow. “A report from the council.” He waves at the text, his words calm. Conversational. “You are welcome to read for yourself, Leralynn. In short, the Night Guard attacked a mining village on Blaze Court’s northern border. Witnesses now claim to have seen a qoru in the mix.”
“Witnesses.” Autumn wrinkles her nose. “They probably saw dark hounds and jumped to bards’ tales. If the qoru found an open corridor from Mors to Lunos, I don’t imagine they’d waste the passage on raiding a few miners.” Her brows pull together, that keen intelligence sparkling in her eyes. “Though if Klarissa wanted to getyourattention, River, the mention of a qoru or two would not go amiss.”
“Agreed.” River’s jaw tightens, something hidden and grim settling over his shoulders. A layer to this news that he refuses to share. “I’ll speak to her.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say, careful not to phrase it as a question. River may be the commander of this quint, but I’m not about to stop fighting for him. For us. Catching his gaze, I hold it tightly, raising my chin. My heart quickens. “When you go to meet with Klarissa, I’m going with you.”
“No need.” Breaking the gaze, River takes another sip of coffee. “Train. Your magic—your weaving—is the priority until both of the remaining trials are behind us. Shade’s magic is still recovering, so go with Coal.”
Heat rises to my face, the fire inside me growing to match River’s ice. “I wish to come with you.” My voice is even. Hard. “I will somehow endeavor not to distract the adults.”
