Chapter 12

TWELVE

Tempest

Tempest shivered and wrapped her cloak tighter around her body, the bare skin of her arms breaking out in goosebumps. Winter's bite, it was bloody cold. She eyed the remains of her shirt that she'd used to wrap Swiftly's and Brine's wounds. There wasn't enough left to even save the garment. At least she had her corset, so she wasn't completely bare.

The shifters were in bad shape, but not terribly so that she'd have to leave them in the forest. Or so she hoped. Tempest swiveled to face Brine and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. He was burning up already. That wasn't a good sign.

"Brine," she said. "How far are we away from Pyre?"

He groaned and gazed up at her through bloodshot eyes. "Few hours."

Her lips thinned, and she eyed both men. Stars, she hoped they both could walk. She wouldn't be able to carry them herself. "Can you walk?"

"Havvvvve to," Brine slurred.

"Swiftly?" she murmured.

The horse man cracked an eye. "I can walk. Been hurt worse before."

"Brine's calf is injured. I need you to help me with him if you can bear it."

Swiftly smiled his horsey smile. "We have to. Help me up."

With many curses and grunts, Tempest managed to get both men on their feet with Brine between them. They began their journey once again. It was a miserable struggle. Tempest panted as they left the dark pine trees that lined the base of the mountains to painfully climb through a deep, narrow valley, its walls the precipitous sides of two neighboring mountains covered in early winter snow.

And you thought you'd be cold.

She huffed out an exhausted laugh. Her body was dripping with sweat, more so from the heat Brine was putting out than from the climb, although her thighs and calves burned. She had no clue how the wolf was keeping up.

Their footsteps upon the stony ground echoed all around, slapping and reverberating off the sides of the mountains until the noise drowned everything out around them. The sound pushed heavily on her ears. From the corner of her eye, Brine winced, his ears lying flat against his skull. She was tempted to ask how much farther when the wolf stumbled and leaned more weight on her. Tempest grunted and dug deep down for more strength, not daring to speak and add to the overwhelming racket around them.

The sun had fully set, and the moon had risen in the sky, lighting their way. Thank Dotae for the small miracles. If the moon hadn't been out in all its glory, there was no way she could have made this hike in full darkness.

Brine caught the tip of his boot and stumbled once again. Tempest braced her legs and wrapped her arm tighter around his back. He hissed and jerked away from her touch. Liquid ran down her fingers from his back. She'd grabbed his wound.

"Sorry," she whispered as softly as she could.

The wind whistled above, a haunting melody that caused every deep shadow to look like a monster. She inhaled slowly and tried to calm herself. Even in Brine's state, he wouldn't want a creature bearing down on them. And where were they going? There was nothing in the Dread Mountains but danger and death. Once again, her question sat on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it back. Neither shifter would tell her. Might as well save her breath.

They pressed onward, and their pace slackened. Swiftly careened back and forth, and Tempest could hardly stand, yet they continued on.

Count each step. One foot in front of the other . You can do this. You have to do this, or you will all die.

Somewhere around the count of one-hundred-and-fifty, she registered the sound of footsteps. Footsteps that weren't theirs. Couldn't they catch a break? Brine's head lifted, and his ears stood at full attention. One twitched—a tell-tale sign that somebody else was around. If he'd noticed them at the same time as she had, then the wolf was in worse shape than she'd thought.

Shifters? She brushed the thought aside. They were too loud for shifters .

"I need to set you down," she whispered to Brine. "I can't fight and balance you."

His grip around her waist tightened. "No. Keep going."

Her lips thinned. At this pace, their pursuers would catch up to them in no time. But, still, they soldiered on through the valley at a snail's pace. She kept throwing glances over her shoulder. Still no one in sight yet. That was promising at least, but it didn't last.

Several minutes later, the sounds of their pursuers' footsteps had become more and more apparent. Tempest glanced behind them and spotted shadows gaining on them. Enough was enough. It was time to stand and fight.

"No more," she huffed. They couldn't outrun them.

She manhandled Brine to the side of the ravine, then pulled her bow from her shoulder and nocked an arrow. Hunting in the dark. Ridiculous. The first shadow drew closer at an alarming speed, and her lip curled.

They were shifters. Rot it.

Tempest inhaled and released her arrow with a soft exhale. It went wide and slammed into stone. Hell. Quickly, she whipped another arrow from her quiver when shifters appeared all around them.

An ambush.

Shale rained down from behind her, and she spun just as a lion leapt from an impossibly thin shelf of rock above Tempest's head. She released the arrow and it pierced the beast in the shoulder. Her mouth bobbed as he shifted mid-drop and landed in a crouch, golden hair ruffled in the breeze.

Hands tried to grab her, but she whipped her bow around, keeping them back. Weight slammed into her from the side, and she found herself staring into the pale eyes of the lion shifter. He slapped a medicinal-smelling cloth over her mouth.

"That hurt," he snapped. "You could have killed me."

Tempest wiggled and fought harder, involuntarily taking in a breath. Her muscles twitched, and then her eyelids fluttered closed, sending her plummeting into darkness.

Tempest opened her eyes slowly, her head aching.

She hurt too much to be dead, so that was something. Slowly, she glanced around the room. It was a luxurious room, just as expensively furnished as the cave she had woken in last time.

The Jester.

She'd know his gaudy taste anywhere. Why had he felt the need to knock her out? He could have just thrown a bag over her head and called it good. Staging an ambush and the drugging? That had the Jester written all over it.

Tempest rubbed her eyes and willed herself to be more alert. Whatever they'd drugged her with hadn't completely left her system. Her basic bodily functions were moving too slowly. She could have woken up somewhere worse. At least it wasn't a prison.

Some cages are gilded .

The fact that he had now moved her twice while she was unconscious made her ill at ease. A person was at their most vulnerable while they slept. She stretched her muscles. Everything seemed to be okay. Other than being exhausted and bruised, she was whole, which was a bloody miracle in and of itself. She slowly sat up and inspected the room a little more closely.

The bed was large—as large as King Destin's. A soft bedspread lay over her legs, embroidered with woodland creatures. She ran her fingers along the decoration, pausing when her fingertips brushed over a fox. Tempest averted her gaze from the golden eyes of the kitsune stitched upon it. She'd been much too interested in foxes of late. It was unhealthy.

Tempest eyed the empty fireplace. She'd assumed they were underground somewhere beneath the mountains. How did they ventilate the fire? Wouldn't the smoke escaping give up the location of this place? Thoughts for another day. A shiver worked through her. How she wished there was an actual fire burning in the hearth. She was freezing.

Beside the hearth, however, was a familiar mountain of a man sleeping on a rocking chair, bringing back memories of the shifter village and the cottage she'd spent weeks recovering in.

Briggs.

Scooting to the edge of the mattress, she swung her legs off the bed in order to hug her friend. She'd missed the healer. Tempest stiffened as she realized how scantily she was dressed. Her cheeks burned, and she used the covers to hide her figure. Who had undressed her? She scoured the room for something suitable to wear, but all that was available was a long, silken nightgown lying on the end of the bed. When she reached out to rub the fabric between her fingers, it was like water.

A stupid grin crossed her face, and Tempest stamped down her joy.

Beautiful, but impractical. The garment wouldn't keep her warm at all .

It's your underclothes or the nightgown.

There wasn't much of a choice.

Tempest spared no time in slipping it over her head and sighed when the fabric whispered over her skin. It was the softest thing she'd ever worn. She stood and hissed as her toes touched cold stone. Her skin pebbled, and she yanked the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders before padding across the floor to a patchwork rug in green-and-gold thread near the hearth.

"Briggs," she whispered.

His dark eyes flashed open, and he immediately grinned. "I was wondering when you would wake up," he said.

"You were the one sleeping."

His smile widened as he stood. "I was just waiting for you." He pulled her into a crushing hug. For the first time since she'd left the capital, she felt comfortable and safe.

"It's good to see you, too, Briggs," she wheezed against his chest. After a few seconds, she pushed out of his arms and smoothed down the skirt of her borrowed nightgown. "How long have I been out?"

"Long enough," he paused and then added, "Pyre will be with you soon."

No, the dark prince would grace her with his presence now.

She shook her head. "No, not soon. Now. Take me to him now . I've jumped through all these hoops—I nearly died on the road and got sold off to a smuggler—just to follow his stupid orders. He will see me now, or he will not see me at all."

Briggs pulled a face. "He won't like this."

She was counting on it.

"I will disappear and cause more mischief," Tempest said, smiling slightly. "You know I will. "

He sighed. "There's no stopping you. Might as well save myself the trouble. Your satchel is on the floor." He chuckled. "Plus, Pyre hasn't been needled in a while. Follow me."

Tempest grabbed her satchel, which lay by the base of the bed, and followed Briggs out of her room. He led her through a network of arching hallways made of dark, imposing stone. The place seemed grander than King Destin's palace, though it lacked the same polish. It was rougher; Tempest could tell that the place was carved from the literal mountains themselves. But that only served to make her like the place. There was something wild and beautiful about the stone walls and the cold wind that blew through the corridors whenever they turned a corner.

The only drawback was that the stone beneath her bare feet was bitter and freezing, and the tingle of pain in her toes reminded her that she had not arrived at this strange place by herself. "How are Brine and Swiftly?" she asked, keeping her voice small and quiet in case it echoed off the walls as it had done outside.

"Recovering," he said, smiling reassuringly. "It'll take more than that to knock them down. And their injuries were nothing a good dose of mimkia couldn't solve."

She flinched at the mention of the drug.

Essential for medicine, yet deadly.

"How strange it is," Briggs murmured, reading Tempest's mind, "that the very thing that has been causing us so much strife can just as easily save our lives. Don't you think, Temp?"

She nodded and pulled her blanket closer, the tail end of it dragging like a train behind her. The rest of their wandering was done in silence as they traversed the labyrinth of hallways. The lanterns flickered eerily as Briggs brought her through a doorway, into a dark, shadowy corner at the rear of a cavernous room.

It was bigger than even the ballroom in Dotae. Nothing she'd ever seen compared in size. Near the end of the room, a group of people sat in luxurious chairs.

She surveyed the gathering with curious eyes. At the front, presiding over the rest of the group on a carved, stone plinth, was a man with white hair and skin the color of milk. Or moonlight. Even from her position at the back of the room, Tempest could see that his eyes were a piercing shade of blue. Tempest supposed he was beautiful, but there was an ethereal quality to him that she found unsettling instead of alluring.

Who was he?

Forcing herself to turn her attention to the rest of the group, she noted that there was a giant of a man sitting on the floor. He was immense. A giant from Kopal. Another man sat beside him with broad shoulders and scales imprinted on his skin. She blanched, knowing immediately what he was. A dragon.

The woman beside the dragon shifter chuckled and waved her hand, her skin a strange aqua, almost an iridescent quality to it that seemed to move like water itself. Beside this woman was Nyx, and, behind them all, a further group of shifters that Tempest did not know. Who were these people? Criminals? Rebels? Allies?

The white-haired man cleared his throat, pulling Tempest's gaze back to him. "Destin has sent his sons as ambassadors to your nation," he said to the giant. "Clearly, it's a ploy of some sort. I would not be surprised if they are bringing in purified mimkia or other dangerous substances to your kingdom."

Tempest grew rigid. The man was speaking about well-kept secrets, and he was speaking about it to a room full of shifters .

"Who is he?" she asked Briggs.

He bent low to talk directly into her ear. "That's the Jester's right-hand man, Mal."

"I thought Brine was his second?"

A flash of something Tempest couldn't quite understand crossed Briggs's face. "That's what a lot of people think," he said. "Brine is more like… his man on the ground, as it were. Mal is Pyre's political partner."

Political partner. She didn't like the sound of that.

Anyone who was conspiring to gain power was bound to be corrupt. And she didn't like Mal's smile. It was too perfect. His words were smooth. Too smooth. Even she was inclined to believe what he said was the truth even though she knew it was based on mere conjecture.

He's good.

She knew there was something more to the king's plan of sending off his sons than a mere ambassadorship. But she doubted very much it was to make an enemy of the giant kingdom. Heimserya did not have enough allies to fight both Talagan insurgents and the giants, especially when the Hinterlands were already an antagonistic nation. They needed allies. Who better than the Kopal brutes?

"You will have to do something about the princes," Mal continued, "but, for now, it is best for your people to simply observe them. I am sure they will make a mistake, eventually. The boys are fools."

She drew closer, Briggs at her side. They drifted closer as the giant drank up every word Mal said.

He wasn't wrong. The princes were idiots, but she did not like the tone in which Mal spoke about the boys. It felt cruel, though he painted it as a joke that everyone laughed at. He continued to address the crowd, spinning lies around kernels of truth—often information Tempest herself had passed onto Pyre—and Tempest's initial dislike for the man grew, along with disgust. He sold lies as truth.

Just like Destin.

Mal cast his pale eyes across the entire room. "And now, I suppose, we should turn our heads to a happier topic of conversation: The masquerade." A murmur of excitement buzzed across the room. "It is but a few weeks away, and I sincerely hope to see every faction there. Earlier today, I even managed to make last-minute negotiations with the merfolk to attend. This will be an exciting event for all of us!"

Tempest's mind went to the beautiful invitation in her satchel—the one decorated with a silvery mask. Why didn't Pyre just tell her outright? Why all the secrecy?

Another few minutes of discussion later and the folk in the room began to filter out through the gigantic double doors. Even in the shadows, she and Briggs stood out. Tempest supposed between the long, silken night gown, the blanket, and her periwinkle hair, they were hard to miss. Most of the group just stared but said nothing as they passed her by.

The woman that undulated like waves and seemed to have skin made of water sauntered toward Tempest, her hips swaying like ocean waves. Tempest blinked slowly as she realized that the woman's skin was blue beneath its iridescence. She was gorgeous, and she smiled, exposing a mouthful of tiny, pointed teeth, which sent a shiver down Tempest's spine.

"What lovely hair you have," the woman hummed.

"Leave her alone, Salvae," Mal said, appearing behind the woman on disturbingly silent feet. He looked the siren up and down with the slightest hint of disgust. Salvae hissed and tossed her light-green hair before storming from the room. Mal followed after without so much as a glance in Tempest's way.

Rude and strange.

She tipped her head back and stared up at Briggs. "Where in the world is Pyre?"

"Oh," a familiar voice chuckled from the doorway, "did you miss me that much, Temp?"