Page 171 of Lana Pecherczyk
And River. God, River. Her mate. His perfectly proportioned body. His languid stretches. The rolls of his shoulders as he sized up his opponents. Every line of him was honed and perfect. He moved with some kind of raw, animal grace that made Blake’s mouth go dry, and her insides flutter. This was better than watching him fight the owl brigade. This time, he was shirtless.
All hers.
She fanned her face. The rain did nothing to cool her down.
“They’re just showing off now.” Humor laced Lark’s voice. “Like juveniles with their first flight feathers.”
Since Sera was participating, a cushion remained free beside Ravi. Lark pointed it out to her new mother-in-law, who stood alone beneath her nearby caravan’s awnings. Carlotta hesitated, but settled awkwardly, her black wings folded tightly against her back. She remained stiff and formal until Ravi handed her a glass of moonshine. Carlotta accepted with a cautious smile.
“How are you holding up?” Ravi’s gaze flicked toward the Cardona roost. “With the tribunal hearing approaching for … well. You know.”
Blake’s shoulders went rigid. But Carlotta’s shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly.
“Every day I wonder,” she whispered, twirling her glass, “if this unsanctioned Vendetta will end in exile for us, or him.” Her breath hitched. “Ifhe turns up.”
“He’ll turn up,” Ravi said, briefly touching Carlotta’s hand. “And when he does, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
A pause. A held breath. Then, Carlotta whispered, “I’ve missed our evening observations.”
“Me too.”
A whistle blew. The game exploded into chaotic action. It started less football, more full-contact and high-speed larceny. Tackles landed with bone-jarring force. Dodges defied gravity. After a few rounds of Blake barking rule amendments, they settled into an organized rhythm.
Two imposing figures approached the canopy during a natural lull between rounds, drawing curious glances from the muddy players. Decked out in bejeweled robes with feathered shawls, the Domatri Corvus and Corala stepped directly beside Blake. He looked down his long nose, but his eyes flickered with recognition and something close to respect.
“Blake Umbria,” he stated simply, a little awkwardly. “Our son lives because of you. The Domatri Kettlethanksyou.”
A buzz zipped over Blake’s skin as the Well acknowledged a debt. Blake’s jaw dropped. Her gaze darted to Lark and Ravi, to Carlotta, and then to the field where every single player tried not to stare—including River.Debt. He owes me a debt.Heart hammering, Blake seized the moment.
“There is something,” she said quickly, before she lost her courage. “That I would like to claim.”
“Now?” the Corvus raised a brow. “You do not wish to think it over?”
“River’s kettle shouldn’t be ostracized for following their hearts.” She glanced at Ravi. “For eloping against the Donna’s wishes.”
The Corvus and Corala exchanged a meaningful look. After a pause, he inclined his head. “Agreed. They shall be restored to their proper place within the murder.”
Another zip of magic buzzed over Blake’s skin as the Well acknowledged his promise. Looks of shock bounced around. Someone cleared their throat on the field. Rain pitter pattered on the canopy.
After a few more awkward moments of silence, Blake asked, “Would you like to join in?”
Imperious brows raised. The Corvus glanced at the mud-streaked players. Just when she started to wonder if maybe games were illegal here too, the tall leader shrugged out of his ornate ceremonial cloak.
“It has been decades since I participated in something so frivolous.” His eyes gleamed with unexpected mischief as he shifted away his wings. “Perhaps I can take a break from responsibility.”
With a parting kiss on his mate’s head, he jogged onto the field. The teams reshuffled and pulled another player from the crowd to remain even. The Corala settled gracefully onto a hastily vacated cushion, her gaze lingering on the moonshinewith slight disapproval. Before she voiced a reprimand about this being a party, Ravi quickly interjected, “Anatomy observations. Purely educational.”
Carlotta nodded solemnly in agreement. “Essential for understanding physical conditioning.”
The Corala’s expression softened with understanding.
“I prefer to observe,” she said, voice like smooth honey, accepting the offered glass. “But I will judge which team demonstrates superior technique.”
The Corvus proved surprisingly agile for one accustomed to leadership over combat. He dodged between players cunningly, stealing a trinket from beneath Talo’s nose and sprinting with unexpected speed toward his chosen trove. River intercepted a jeweled comb that Tommas was sprinting with. The two collided in a tangle of limbs, sending them rolling through the mud. Nearby, Ash executed a move so fast that Blake barely tracked it. He left Sera blinking dazedly in mud, minus her polished river stone.
“You’re slowing down, princeling,” River taunted as he sprinted past, snatching the stone from Ash’s grip.
“Just giving you a fighting chance,old mate,” he called back, lips curving in a rare smile.
