Chapter 32

THIRTY-TWO

Tempest

It was amazing that one conversation could change her life.

Tempest gazed blankly at the tavern room the servant had led her to, her mind a whirl. Time was short until the guard hunted her down and escorted her back to the palace. It was the only rational decision to combine her uncles' forces with those of the Dark Court, but every time she thought of Pyre, all she could see was the empty gaze of the crown prince. The Jester had done that, and he'd used her to do it. She held her palms up and stared at the dried blood on her hands. Was she any better?

Unable to stand one more minute in her clothing, she hustled to the warm bath steaming near the fireplace. Tempest tore her clothing from her body and tossed the soiled items in the fire. She submerged herself in the bath and viciously scrubbed her skin until it hurt. The clear water turned musky and rust colored. Nausea swamped her again, and she launched from the tub, flinging water everywhere. Shivering and dry heaving, she wrapped herself in a towel and roughly dried her body. Her skin pebbled as she yanked on the rough clothing the servant had left her, the coarse fabric scratching as she adjusted her garments. She took one last look at the room, then pulled her cloak over her shoulders, and tucked her hair away beneath the hood, thankful that the cloak was black, so the blood didn't show.

Tempest tossed a small bag of coins onto the unused bed that Maxim had left her and exited the inn room on silent feet. She ghosted down the stairs and slipped past the kitchen without seeing a single person. Her breath fogged in the cold air, and she examined the alley and street. The fake drunkards were gone. Was that a good sign or bad?

Just to be careful, she slunk toward the slums, making sure to loop and weave through the shanties, remaining as inconspicuous as possible. With furtive eyes and keen ears, she took in the pale faces and anxious, fractured conversations of those around her. Talk of war was thick in the air, and nobody liked what that meant. The people were scared. Mothers clutched their children tighter. Men were drinking more. They all feared what the future would bring. King Destin's speech may have riled up the upper class—the ones important enough to have been within the palace court to hear it—but those that would actually fight, didn't know what this meant for them and their families. They would be the ones sacrificed on the battlefield if Tempest didn't figure out a solution.

Kill the king. That's your solution.

Ensuring none of her periwinkle hair was visible beneath her hood, she instinctively quickened her pace. When she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her left eye, her fears were confirmed: she had been spotted.

For a moment, she veered right toward the city gates on instinct, then ground her heel into the gravel beneath her and began climbing the closest building. The damaged wall was still a safer bet despite the tail.

With a glance down below her, she saw three guards—no longer trying to hide their presence—were pursuing her. She bolted across the ramshackle roof and leapt for the next one, feet clattering across tiles, tin, and loose wooden planks. She was starkly reminded of another time she had navigated across roofs in such a manner—fleeing Pyre's gang only two months prior. Her shoulder had been damaged from her fight with the lion, and she'd hurt her leg during the pursuit, but she had still made it pretty far before she'd been caught. She was even stronger now.

Brushing aside the thought, she finally reached her destination—the crumbling outer wall. With a few creative movements, and some quick scaling of the shanties around her, she managed to make it to the tallest building unscathed. Frowning, Tempest glanced over her shoulder.

Half a dozen guards were in pursuit.

Ratsbane.

She didn't have time to doubt as she launched herself at the wall, scrambling to grab the ramparts in order to fling herself to safety. For one terrible, agonizingly slow moment her grip faltered, and her left hand came loose from the wall. In a last-ditch effort, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and lodged it into a space between the bricks of the wall itself and used it as a handhold to haul herself up. She crouched on the wall, breathing heavily, her cloak whipping in the wind. The guards stared up at her, their expressions ones of satisfaction. A cold chill ran down her spine, and she flicked a glance to the other side of the wall.

The very finished wall.

The sheer drop made her head spin, and a filthy curse slipped passed her lips. How had they finished it so quickly? It had been ruins for as long as she could remember. Tempest eyed the distance to the ground. If she tried to jump, she'd lame herself, or possibly die. Rot it. She needed to get to the city gates. Now.

With no other choice, she fled along the city wall, knowing her only chance was to descend the stairs near the main gates and fight her way out. Her lips lifted into a grim smile as the guards shouted and began to chase after her, but the labyrinth of the slums slowed them down. Maybe there wouldn't be much fighting at all, as long as she didn't come across any more guards along the way.

Her boot slipped on the slick stone, and Tempest faltered—narrowly missing an arrow as it whistled through the air where she would've been. She yelled in surprise. That was too close for comfort. She kept running as two guards burst from the turret ahead, and she dropped to her knees, sliding across the ice between them. Tempest slammed the door behind her and locked it before sprinting to the other side and back along the wall. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she scanned the roofs around her. Where had that arrow come from?

As if summoning one from her thoughts, another whistle pierced the air, and she rolled. Popping to her feet, she kept sprinting, praying that she wouldn't lose her balance and fall. An enormous building loomed near the wall, the capital's flag hanging from the side. Time to get off the wall .

Tempest didn't let herself stop to think about it. She just jumped, and her fingers seized the long flagpole. Her hands burned as she slid toward the ground too fast, then she freefell. Even though she'd been trained to fall correctly, the impact still knocked her to the ground. She rolled and groaned as she clambered to her feet. That worked better than she'd anticipated.

The thunder of boots against stone warned her of the guards' approach. Tempest hobbled into a darkened corner and observed as the men ran by, none the wiser that she was no longer cornered. She moved with the flow of the citizens toward the city gate and stiffened because close to twenty guards stood near the exit. Chills ran down her spine as the gates began to close, their heavy hinges screeching in protest.

None of this made sense. Was the king closing the gates to keep her inside or did he have something else already in play? He couldn't know of her plans or her treachery.

Unless one of your uncles betrayed you.

Tremors moved up and down her arms. No. They wouldn't. She pushed away from the gates, determined to make it to the docks and the tunnel. That was her last resort.

The jog to the docks was a blur, and, thankfully, no one followed her. She slowed and purchased some nuts and fruit while surveying the area. It seemed like no one was lying in wait for her. Her steps quickened as the tunnel loomed closer, and she entered the darkened passageway. Her skin prickled as dark shapes peeled themselves from the walls, taking the form of soldiers.

They were cutting off her escape, her salvation.

With a short, sharp intake of breath, she rolled her neck. "Please let me pass. "

"State your business," a soldier barked.

Relief washed over her. They weren't looking for her. "I am meeting with my family. I only came to gather some supplies." She held out her nuts and fruit.

Someone lit a lamp. She blinked. Fifteen guards. Another moved from the shadows, and she exhaled slowly. Wrong, there were sixteen, and the last one wasn't a guard at all.

Levka.

His lips pressed together as he stared at her. "Family, huh?"

She swallowed the lie on her tongue. "Family. Friends. They're all the same to me."

"Please welcome the Lady Hound, our sovereign's betrothed." He lifted his chin at her. "We've been tasked with assuring your safety."

"I thank you," she murmured. "But I assure you that I don't need protection. I am a Hound after all."

"But there have been rogue attacks outside the wall, and it's not safe."

Time to play nice. She batted her lashes. "Then it's good I have all of you with me. You'll keep me safe. Now, excuse me." Tempest strode forward.

Levka stepped up to meet her. "I'm sorry, but I cannot allow that."

So, this was the way it was going to be. Tempest sighed and pulled her sword from her scabbard. "We don't have to do this, Levka."

"You're right. We don't, but you're forcing my hand," he gritted out. "Seize her."

The men converged on Tempest, leaving her no choice but to fight. She slashed her sword at the closest soldier, wounding his calf. Twisting, Tempest removed her dagger from its sheath on her thigh and threw it at another soldier closing it. It sunk into his shoulder, and he grunted in pain.

"Stop this madness," she commanded. "No one has to get hurt."

But they kept coming.

In another life—two days ago, even—she would have felt remorse for hurting a man when he was simply doing his job. Such feelings speedily fled in battle. It was kill or be killed, and she did not want to die. Fatigue plagued her. The dash across the city had taken much out of her. A guard rushed forward and cut her arm with his sword. She cried out.

"Do not harm the lady!" Levka bellowed. "Every wound she sustains, the king will carve exact replicas on your flesh."

Another stepped on her cloak, and she released the clasp at the throat, spinning to meet her next attacker. A blow found her leg, and she crashed to her knees in surprise. She hadn't seen that one coming.

Her harsh breathing echoed in the tunnel along with the moans of the soldiers she'd wounded. Levka moved through the soldiers, his expression eerily blank.

"Give up this madness, my lady," he said. "You are the future queen of our nation. Come back to the palace quietly. Where you belong."

Not before she got word to Pyre.

"I cannot do what you ask," she replied, shaking her head emphatically. "Either come with me or drag me back."

For a moment, his face tightened, and then he closed his eyes. "So be it," he muttered, waving his hand. Four soldiers darted in, wrestled her sword from her grasp, and grabbed her by the arms. They hauled Tempest to her feet, and she fought, biting, kicking, and clawing .

She spat at Levka, her glob of saliva hitting him in cheek. He lifted his hand to his face, not taking his eyes from hers and wiped the spit away. His gaze strayed over her shoulder for a moment, just before a rumbling began, getting closer and closer until the noise was deafening.

The hair at the nape of her neck rose, and she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

"A bear!" one of the soldiers cried, trying and failing to get out of the way when the monstrously huge creature bowled through the soldiers like they were toys. The soldiers released her as the bear approached and roared, its huge teeth longer than any of their fingers. Men scattered, their fear almost palpable, but she didn't move. A smile curled her lips, and she began to chuckle, so relieved to see a familiar face.

"About time you showed up, Briggs." She coughed, too full of adrenaline to care about the blood that wet her lips. Somehow, she must have hit her face.

Then another dark and furry shape joined Briggs, smaller than the bear but no less intimidating.

A wolf—Brine.

Relief washed over Tempest as the two shifters made quick work of the surrounding soldiers—except Levka—whose cries turned guttural as they either fled or were cut down by vicious teeth and claws.

Goosebumps rippled over her body when Brine released a haunting howl that echoed around them.

"You were almost too late!" Levka barked, his hand touching her shoulder.

Brine gave him a look with his sharp, amber eyes and let out half a snarl. It was a simplistic enough sound that Tempest took to mean, You're lucky we showed up at all .

She glared at Levka and shook him off. He was part of this too? Tempest struggled to her feet, ignoring his hand as she retrieved her dagger and sword from the cobblestones. Did no one among her family or friends know how to tell the bloody truth?

"Tempest," Levka began.

She held a hand up. " Don't." Her attention turned to the wolf. "Brine!" she said, and the wolf snarled at her. "It's nice to see you too." She limped toward the formidable shifter and threw her arms around his powerful shoulders and buried her face in his midnight fur. "Thank you," she whispered.

He whined and leaned his wolf head against her own. Her fingers sank into his fur, and she breathed in his smoky scent. More soldiers would be coming, she knew, so they had to move. A mammoth nose pressed against her right arm, and she lifted her head to stare into Briggs's dark-brown bear eyes. She didn't hesitate to press a kiss to his snout before standing.

"You need to go before more soldiers arrive," Levka urged.

She rose to her feet and stared at the two shifters. With a sharp nip at her wrist, Brine indicated for Tempest to climb onto the back of Briggs.

"I appreciate what you've done but I can't leave yet," she said, and Briggs growled and slapped the ground with his huge paw. "I was only coming to relay information. I've gained an ally for the Jester."

Brine pressed closer, his eyes focused on her.

"The Hounds. All of them."

Briggs's maw dropped open, revealing all his terrifying teeth.

Her adrenaline began to wane, and it was difficult to fully control her bloody, shaking hands. "I only wish this information to be passed onto the Jester. He has a week to reply."

Brine dropped his muzzle to the ground as if he was bowing.

"They need to go, now," Levka gritted out, stalking closer. "We don't have much time." He inclined his chin at Briggs. "Make it look good, huh?"

Tempest squeaked when Briggs sliced his claws against Levka's arms and chest, knocking the man over.

Levka moaned. "Sweet poison, that hurts."

"Do you make it a habit of yours to get as close to death as you can?" Brine growled, surprising Tempest. She blinked and glanced away from his naked human form.

She grimaced. "But I didn't actually die , did I? I'm just a little banged up."

The wolf closed in on her and set his forehead against hers. "He will not like this. I was sent to fetch you."

Tempest chuckled. "Pyre's not my keeper, nor has he ever been."

Brine smirked. "So stubborn. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Aw, you like me? I knew it."

"You're okay," he huffed, "for a human."

"Real cute," Levka groaned. "We need to go, Temp."

Brine nodded at him. "Get your pup to a healer, Tempest. He looks faint." He stepped away and she turned her back to him, giving him privacy to shift. "Don't forget who your enemy is, dog. The city twists its people."

"I'll bear that in mind," she said.

"What should I pass on to him?"

Blurrily, she stared at the end of the tunnel leading into Dotae. "That Tempest Madrid brings the Dark Court a pledge of allegiance from the Hounds to fight with you all and take down the menace of the throne." She paused. "And that I will not be manipulated. I'm not his subordinate, and that I know what he did."

"Anything else?" Briggs drawled.

"That he was right." She began to limp toward the city. "War is upon us."