Page 47 of Lana Pecherczyk
“Hate to interrupt this little knitting circle,” River grumbled, gaze locked on the potted eucalyptus. “But we need to leave—What is that, and why is it in the vase I gave you?”
“Oh.” Trix cast a nervous glance at him. “It was left behind, so I assumed it was trash.”
“What?” River’s jaw slackened as he stared at Blake. “Youleftit?”
The eucalyptus leaves rustled between them.
“You said you stole it,” she countered, matching his affronted tone.
“So?”
“Theft is a crime, River.” Her gaze darted to the women. “It’s still a crime, right?”
Their laughter lightened the tension and also felt like a sign of solidarity. Ada’s earlier promise—you’re welcome here any time—gave her the courage to continue with River despite everything.
“Crows don’t give a shit about rules,” Jasper said, walking up behind Ada and settling his hands on her shoulders.
River’s mockery dripped acid as he parroted the king’s words. When no one laughed, he snapped, “Let’s go,” and stalked away, weapons clinking with each rigid step.
After exchanging hugs and promises to return with good news, Blake joined River along with Jasper and his son.
River’s eyes narrowed to slits when she approached, his gaze tracking from the plant to her face. She clutched her satchel and eucalyptus tighter, chin lifting in silent challenge.
His jaw worked before he announced, “Blake travels with Jasper.”
The king’s rebuke cut through the tension. “Unless you plan to divest yourself of metal, she’ll have to travel with Aspen. He can’t take you. He’s not a Guardian.”
“Then you take us both.”
“We’ve been through this. It’s safer with two.”
Color mottled River’s face, sending the prince into poorly suppressed laughter.
“Don’t worry,” Aspen managed between snickers, eyes dancing with mischief. “I’ll try to keep my scent to myself.”
“Like fuck you will,” River shouted.
“Aspen, stop teasing him,” Jasper growled.
“But—”
“One day, you’ll feel the same. Ease up, son. River’s the type to come back and haunt you.”
Blake’s confusion mounted. What had she done wrong? Aspen did look kind of sweaty. Maybe he’d been working out. Maybe that’s what River meant by scent.
“I’m not worried about a little sweat,” she said to Aspen. “Me husband—ahem—myhusband was a football player. Trust me, mate. It’s fine.”
The following stretch of time swallowed every sound. Even the insects ceased chirping.
“What did I say?” Her gaze bounced between frozen faces before landing on the women’s winces, their expressions almost comical in synchronicity.
Jasper inhaled to speak but fell silent as River thrust his chakram against the king’s chest.
“Don’t say a word, wolf,” River warned, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
Storm clouds gathered in his eyes as he stripped himself of weapons. Each dagger slapped into Jasper’s increasingly full hands, the metal singing as steel met steel. All the while, River’s gaze ping-ponged between Aspen and Blake with murderous intent.
“River,” Jasper chided, juggling the growing arsenal, “how am I supposed to carry her when my hands are full of your weapons?”
