Chapter 24

TWENTY-FOUR

Tempest

"…Tempest. Hey, Tempest. Dog !"

Tempest barely ducked in time to avoid the wooden cup Brine threw at her head. She hadn't even noticed the man sit down at the same table as her.

She grimaced and ran a hand down her face. "I'm sorry, Brine. I didn't sleep well."

"I can see that," he muttered, taking another cup of hot tea from a servant as they passed them by. "Has anyone told you that you look like death?"

It was early— too early to be up after her many days of hard travel and flight through the snowy mountains—but she had not been able to stay in bed after a restless night of tossing and turning.

"Someone may have said that to me, yes," she replied, feeling hot. "Do I really look that bad?"

"You have shadows under your eyes so big they look like bruises." Brine frowned at her. "Did you come into any trouble on the way here?"

"Why, Brine, are you concerned about me?" Tempest asked with amusement.

The wolf shifter bristled. "After the ambush last time, I was expecting you to end up dead, traveling on your own. I was disappointed to discover you flew in, instead. Upon the back of the dragon king, I heard. Are you insane?"

Brine's ‘disappointment' was very much a front and both of them knew it. His animosity and distrust toward her had long since abated. She laid her head on the table and gazed at the wolf. He was fiercely loyal. If she could convince him to work with her instead of the Jester…

He would never leave Pyre.

It was a rotten realization. He'd have been an amazing ally to have.

"That dragon king was the one who ambushed us, you know," she mumbled to Brine as if she hadn't just spent the past few seconds silently deliberating mutiny. She narrowed her eyes, her cheek squished against the table. " Did you know that, Brine?"

"Obviously not at the time." He scowled, his jaw working. "And even if the dragon king is one of the Jester's allies, he is strong enough to attack us without fear of reprimand. After the deal you made with him last time, I fully expected him to come after you again… though I guess he did, in a fashion."

"I called him for aid, actually," Tempest said, absentmindedly curling a lock of hair around her finger. Before dawn, when she'd finally admitted to herself that she'd get no sleep, she had crept to the baths and soaked and oiled her hair until it was easier to detangle it. Now it was soft, lustrous, and smooth once more, flashing in the light of the torches like a lilac flame.

Sweet poison, she didn't feel very good. Her head ached, and she was bloody hot.

Brine seemed to pale at her statement, but still set down his teacup with far more care than she expected. "Be careful, dog. Truly, be careful. You are playing with politics you do not understand."

Tempest knew he genuinely meant well, but the comment irked her nonetheless. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, smoothing down her shirt and leather trousers as she did so. "I understand far more than people think, Brine. Now, if you'll excuse me."

The room swam, and she stumbled. Strong arms wrapped around her. Brine's gray eyes stared down at her with concern. She blinked as he placed the back of his hand against her cheek.

"You're warm."

She brushed his hand away and wiggled out of his embrace. "I'm fine."

"You're not."

Tempest waved him away and weaved toward the exit, too prideful to admit that he was right. She felt like death. Brine and herself were two sides of the same coin. It was probably why she never hated Brine, even when he had hated her. They both hated to admit weakness.

She sighed and traipsed down the corridor. Her conversation with the wolf had reminded her that she had to tell the Jester about her engagement to King Destin. The news would no doubt reach his ears soon. It was better if it came from her. She needed to explain what she planned. A traitor is still a traitor, and that is what he shall see you as .

If only she could find him .

"Where are you, stupid fox?" she muttered, first checking the training hall, then the meeting chamber, and finally the masquerade hall. No kitsune. In a last-ditch attempt to find him, she headed toward his study. The door was cracked open, and Nyx's and Pyre's voices filtered through the door.

Her heart picked up, and sweat slicked the back of her neck. She stood outside the door, her fist raised to knock upon the wood. After their failed interaction last night, there was no telling how he would react to her.

Stop being a coward.

She steeled herself and knocked on the door three times.

"Come in, Tempest!" Nyx called out, unnerving Tempest to no end. Stupid shifter's sense of smell.

Somewhat hesitantly, she opened the door and entered. She halted in her tracks. Acres of russet skin was on display. Pyre stood in the middle of the room, shirtless, while his sister used a length of tape to take his measurements.

Nyx flashed a smile at Tempest. "Last-minute costume alternations," she explained. " Somebody has lost a little weight since his jacket was made and insists upon the garment being adjusted."

Pyre shrugged, entirely nonchalant. "Things have been stressful, what can I say? You don't look like you slept well, Temp."

But Tempest barely heard him. Her eyes were glued to his back: it was covered in scars which looked suspiciously like those received from the lash of a whip. Her arm seemed to burn. She had a scar that looked exactly like it.

"Now I know you haven't slept well." Pyre laughed. "You are not normally so forward with your admiration of my body. "

"I'm not staring." She broke her gaze from his scars and shot him a rude gesture that she'd seen Maxim use.

"Naughty." He grinned over his shoulder. "What, too tired for banter?"

Her lips pursed. His easy flirtations weren't what she expected. They were definitely at odds with their last few interactions. What was his game here? Was he trying to mess with her head? Because it was working . "I… don't feel good."

"Oh?" His brows slashed together.

"It's nothing." She meandered farther into the room. "You're in a good mood?"

"There's no reason not to be," Pyre replied.

"All done," Nyx chimed.

He picked up a plain cotton shirt from the chair near the fire and slid it over his broad shoulders—shoulders that Tempest was desperately trying not to notice. What was her problem? She'd grown up with men—seen naked males of all sorts and sizes—and yet somehow the kitsune affected her. Figures.

"The masquerade is coming up; all the factions are coming… and I have my Hound by my side. Or has that changed?" He paused, arching a brow. "Have you betrayed me in your time away?

She scowled, even as her pulse sped up. "I haven't made plans to unleash the Hounds on you, Pyre. Yet ."

He laughed easily at her threat, waving a negligent hand. As if Tempest herself was insignificant. Did he have any idea what would happen to him if she unleased Madrid upon his mountain palace? If she made another deal with Damien, he had the ability to lead all the Hounds in.

Pyre frowned and sauntered up to her. Tempest backed up, pressing against the wall as he invaded her space and leaned into her, inhaling heavily near her temple. "You're not well."

She wedged her hands between their bodies, her fingers meeting warm skin. Her stomach flipped, and Tempest shoved him away. "Stop with the sniffing."

"Nyx," Pyre barked. "She's not well."

"I'm fine," she argued. "It's just been a few long days."

The kitsune scowled, buttoning his shirt. "So why were you looking for me?" He ran his hands through his hair, pushing the deep wine-colored strands from his face. He flashed a grin Tempest's way. "I gather it wasn't to appreciate my good looks?"

"It doesn't matter," Tempest said, edging toward the door. "I think I'm going to take your advice and get some more sleep." Slipping from the room, her shoulders sagged, and she staggered down the hallway. Gone were any lingering obligations she felt to tell Pyre about her engagement to King Destin.

Let him find out like everyone else—as secondhand news. Let him discover just what insignificant feels like.

She squinted, her body aching.

"Shhhh… Go back to sleep," Briggs rumbled.

"What?" she whispered through parched lips.

"You've been running a fever," Pyre's familiar voice answered. She turned her head slightly. The kitsune sat on her bed, running his fingers through her sweaty hair. Tempest pressed her cheek against his cool hand.

"So hot. "

"I know, love," he crooned. "Briggs and Nyx made you a tincture to help, but I need you to drink it."

Anything to get the pounding in her head to go away. Briggs handed Pyre a cup, and she sighed when he slipped his cool hand beneath her neck, cradling her head. He held the draught to her lips.

"It's nasty, but you need to drink it," Briggs admonished.

Tempest gulped the concoction and gagged. Her eyes watered, and her stomach rebelled. She was so bloody hot. Kicking at the covers, she sighed when cold air hit her bare skin. A growl sounded, and the blankets once again covered her flushed body.

"No," she moaned. "Too hot."

"I know, love. I know. But you don't want to show Briggs your naked body, do you?"

"Don't care," she moaned.

"I do," Pyre murmured, once again stroking her cheek. "This is what happens when you make deals with dragons and ride them."

His words became gibberish, and her world dulled until there was nothing but darkness.