Chapter 4

FOUR

Tempest

Tempest woke as the bag was pulled from her head. Stars ran across her vision as the light from a hundred candles stunned her for a few moments. She winced and reached for the back of her head. Whatever devil had knocked her on the head would regret it. She scowled and blinked repeatedly until her eyes grew accustomed to the light.

"Always so difficult," a painfully familiar voice said. The Jester chuckled, the deep sound caressing her skin, causing goosebumps to run down her arms. He stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling gilded mirror, primping his clothes, of all things he could be doing.

Her lips curled in distaste. "I am not your underling to summon whenever you'd like," Tempest muttered. "What do you want?"

He snorted. "Underlings are obedient, and you, my dear—" He glanced over his shoulder at her. "You are woefully disobedient."

She ignored his comment and glanced around the room. If one could call it such a thing. It was a cave, although decorated more lavishly than even King Destin's chambers. Her brows rose as she absorbed it all. Large, thick tapestries hung all around her. A plush, midnight-blue rug covered half of the stone floor beneath Tempest's feet. In one corner, half-hidden by shadows, was an enormous four-poster bed, its heavy curtains currently pulled shut all around it.

Her eyes shied away from the monstrosity. No need for her attention to linger there.

Elaborately carved candelabras stood around the room, their candles standing like proud sentinels. Tiny glass votives sat on almost every available surface. The light flickered in soft blues, greens, and purples, among the oranges and yellows of the normal candles. Clearly, the place was expensively furnished. What kind of crimes paid for all of this?

She ran the toe of her boot over the rug, eyeing the rich color. Taseri wool. That was impossible to import. Her brows rose. How in the blazes had he gotten his hands on the rug? Tempest lifted her head and glanced in the mirror.

Pyre was studying her reflection, his signature smile playing on his lips, one pointed canine exposed. He adjusted the collar of his golden silk robe. "Like what you see?"

She glared at the vain creature, wishing he would burst into flames. She didn't have time for this. Her head hurt, and, from the pounding of her temples, she was well on her way to a migraine. "You didn't answer my question. What do you want? Why go to such theatrics to get me here? I'm not at your beck and call, Pyre. I'm not a dog. "

"Aren't you?"

His words set off her anger. Her fingers closed around the dagger at her waist, and before she consciously knew what she was doing, the blade was already out of her hand. Pyre jerked as the weapon slammed into his gaudy mirror, causing a large, ugly crack to travel through the glass and tear his reflection in two. Maybe he'd think twice the next time he knocked her out and left her with weapons.

She smirked when a cool, steel edge pressed against her throat. She'd known they were not alone—Tempest had managed to flush out the Jester's protector. A hand seized her braid and yanked it before her new assailant gripped her right wrist painfully, pulling it behind her back. She grimaced but forced an ugly smile. One point for her, zero for the knave gaping at her from a broken mirror.

The Jester's earlier shock had disappeared, replaced by a wry smile. He stepped to the side and leaned closer to the mirror, continuing to recheck his appearance like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Let her go, Brine," he said casually. "Our Hound friend is no threat to me."

"Don't be so sure," Tempest murmured. She felt pretty murderous at the moment. He brought that out in her.

"Have it your way," he retorted. "She's not a threat—for now."

For now. That gave her a bit of satisfaction. It was important that the Jester knew she could be a threat.

A snarl followed by a low whistle of breath heated the nape of Tempest's neck. She shivered despite her resolve to show no weakness .

Brine cursed under his breath before straightening up. "She would have killed you if she hadn't missed."

At this, Tempest burst out laughing and twitched against Brine's grip before she could stop herself. The nails on his hand began transforming into wickedly dangerous wolf claws in response.Winter's bite, that was creepy.

He growled into her ear. "What's so funny, dog?"

"Oh, nothing," Tempest replied, sobering. "It's just that—you honestly think I missed?" She caught Pyre's eye. He wasn't amused by her outburst so much as he was aware it was warranted. Tempest frowned. Why did she know that? She hated that she could read the tiny permutations of his expression."Trust me," she continued, "if I wanted the Jester dead, he would be."

"And on that cheerful note, release her," Pyre said, repeating his previous order. "And leave us. Like she's said, if she really wanted to kill me, she'd have planted that dagger in my back."

The blade lingered at her throat for a few seconds longer and then disappeared. Brine squeezed Tempest's wrist until she was moments away from gasping in agony.

"Mind your manners, mutt," he whispered in her ear before releasing her in one swift motion.

That was rich, him calling her the mutt. Tempest swallowed the retort forming on her tongue and instead focused on rubbing the feeling back into her twisted wrist.The bloody brute. Her wrist would surely bruise by morning.

Show no weakness.

Tempest pushed aside the pain and straightened to confront Pyre properly, who was still fussing over his outfit like a blinkin lady of court. She made no attempt to hide her distain.

"Don't give me that look. I spent too much money on these clothes to have a dagger ruin the stitching," Pyre muttered, inspecting his shoulder critically for non-existent stray fibers along the seam. Both he and Tempest knew her dagger hadn't touched him. "I need them to look perfect."

For whom? It was the middle of the night. She shook her head. Temp didn't want to know who he was entertaining so late or why the outfit mattered so much.

"Why am I here, Pyre?" she asked, impatience dripping from every word.

The Jester finished his inspection and reached for the dagger, pulling it from the mirror. Several shards of glass shattered to the floor. He prowled in her direction, the robe gaping the slightest bit, revealing a sliver of his burnished chest. He paused in front of her and held out the dagger, hilt first, to Tempest. She took it slowly.

Pyre dropped into a mocking bow. "You misplaced this, my lady."

"Pyre—"

"Relax." He sighed. "Can't you indulge in some niceties before we get down to business?"

"Not with you, no."Every moment she spent in his presence inspired feelings she didn't quite know what to do with.

He cocked his head to one side, fox ears twitching as if listening for changes in Tempest's heart rate. Unbidden, she thought of their tumultuous argument in the cabin and how it had led to his fingers trailing along her calves. She blinked. Why in the blazes was she thinking about that?

It had been a mistake. A moment of weakness. She gazed blankly at his chest . For both of them.

"Penny for your thoughts, love?"

She flinched, then arched a haughty brow, leaning back in her seat. "You could offer me Destin's personal fortune and I still wouldn't tell you what's on my mind."

Pyre's smile slid from his face, and something predatory took its place. "Business it is, then. Do you have any updates from the war council?"

Relieved to finally be talking about something else, Tempest said, "King Destin issending his sons to act as ambassadors to the giants of Kopal." She took a moment to recall everything she'd filed away. "Children from the capital are disappearing. He's blaming the Dark Court." She eyed Pyre. No expression. He remained impassive, patiently waiting in silence for Tempest to continue.Rot it, he was hard to read. She sighed and rolled her neck."And he ordered me to infiltrate the Talagan rebels and destroy them by any means necessary. It was implied to use my feminine wiles." She sneered the last word.

The Jester perked up at this. His lips curled into an amused grin, and she found herself resisting the urge to throw another dagger at him.

"I'm sure you didn't like that very much."

"How astute of you," she grumbled.

"Did you protest?"

"Of course not," Tempest replied, rolling her eyes. "It's the perfect cover to work with you to unravel the entire mimkia conspiracy. And I'm no fool; to protest Destin's commands would be a death warrant."

She pursed her lips, thinking about the blatant touch from the king tonight. He was becoming bolder. What if Destin commanded her into his bed? Her jaw clenched. There was nothing that would entice her to do so. Even the idea of letting him run his hands over her body made Tempest break out in a cold sweat. She flushed scarlet when she realized the kitsune was peering at her strangely.

She coughed. "Was there any information in particular that you were hoping I'd overhear?"

A weighty pause. "Not really. Destin sending his sons off is interesting, though. We might be able to work with that. Other than that, a few of my men were captured two days ago by the king's guards. They've been sentenced to death."

Her jaw dropped. "You should have led with that! What can I do to help? Do you want me to—I don't know—appeal for their release? Break them out? We can't leave them to—"

"That's exactly what we're going to do. We can't afford to break them out. It would do more harm than good for the resistance."

Temp blinked slowly and tugged on her left ear. Surely, she was hearing things. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly."

She swallowed. How could he so callously allow his friends and allies to die when he could very well save them? Her stomach turned.

You're not dealing with Pyre. He's the Jester now. Don't forget that for one second.

And then, as if they hadn't just been discussing the imminent and potentially preventable deaths of his comrades, the mercurial kitsune returned to his fractured mirror and smoothed down the fabric of his robe. He fussed with the collar and then untied the sash at his waist, exposing his chiseled chest and abdomen. Heat filled her cheeks. Why was she attracted to this criminal?

He raised an eyebrow at Tempest. "How do I look?"

"Like a drug lord with more money than sense," she replied, simply to get a rise out of him. In truth, Pyre's finely made clothes looked as if they had been made for him and him alone. The gold robe and silk trousers accentuated the rich colors of his hair and complemented the amber tone of his skin.

The man's easy smile quickly faded, his mouth setting into a hard line, his first real sign of displeasure. Gone was the amused twinkle in Pyre's eye.

Good.

She only wished she could have investigated the mimkia problem, and the overarching issue of King Destin's lack of guilt over willingly sacrificing his subjects to mimkia to instigate a war, without the use of an underworld kingpin. But as luck would have it, that was not the case. It didn't mean Tempest had to like working with Pyre, nor make it easy for him to work with her.

Before the kitsune could fire back a retort or a warning, the sound of footsteps approaching pulled his attention from her. She huffed out a breath and turned in the direction of the newcomer. Pyre sauntered forward, leaning a hip against the back of her chair, effectually blocking her view from who'd entered the room.

She bristled. Stubborn man. Tempest craned her neck to get a glance of the person who'd entered. A man swathed in a plain, dark cloak paused a few paces from the exit. The ornate, silver chains clasping his cloak shut glinted in the candlelight. He lowered the hood of his cloak to reveal black, greasy hair slicked back from a sharply receding hairline. His pale eyes shifted around the chamber as if calculating the price of everything in the room. He caught Tempest's stare and smiled, exposing rotten, yellowed teeth.

Nasty .

"I see we are not alone," the man said, not looking away from Tempest. His gaze unapologetically roved over what he could see of her body.

Pyre ignored the statement. "What news do you have, Tam?"

Tam shrugged. "The guards have stepped up their security around the perimeter of Dotae. Some kids went missing, apparently. Don't know when we'll get the next shipment through."

Tempest eyed Pyre's silk-clad shoulders. What kind of shipment?

"We needed those drugs yesterday , and now you're telling me you have no idea when they'll get through?" The kitsune sounded less than pleased.

Tempest gaped at him in disbelief. Though she had only just called Pyre a drug lord, she hadn't really meant it or, at the very least, hadn't really thought about what it meant. That Pyre, as the Jester, was responsible for the drug problems she saw affecting the poor and homeless in Dotae so terribly. He might not have been the one peddling mimkia to the villages but that apparently didn't stop him distributing less deadly—but no less addictive—substances to the people of Heimserya.

Her lip curled, but she refrained from saying anything. Both men seemed to have forgotten her presence. All the better. She needed as much information as she could get.

"Ain't nothing I can do about the guards. It was your foolish plan," Tam said.

The Jester closed the gap between him and Tam.

Temp blinked at the spot Pyre had held prior. He moved so fast. What else was he capable of? She tucked her unease away as the Jester towered over Tam, a snarl rumbling in his chest. Her heart pounded in her chest as the kitsune began to shift, his face becoming more inhuman with every passing second. Maybe it was time for her to slink away. She inched away from her chair.

"That is what I pay you to do," Pyre growled. He grabbed a handful of the man's cloak. "All of your finery and fancy clothes are paid for by me. If you cannot get rid of a few guards—or find another route into the city—I shall find someone to replace you. And you won't like that… trust me."

Tempest paused. That was a death threat, if she'd ever heard one. Between this and Pyre's disregard for his own, doomed men, she wondered how much of the compassion and love she had witnessed back in the Talagan shifter village had been genuine.

Was it really all a ruse to convince her to work with him? An elaborate, disgusting set-up to force her to betray her own people ? Her gut clenched. Just what had she gotten herself into?

Her head gave another painful throb, thanks to the Jester's henchman. Sweet poison, she needed some sleep and a headache tincture from Aleks. Tomorrow, after Destin's compulsory war council breakfast was over and she began her mission, officially, to reintegrate herself into the rebel alliance, she would pick apart the matter until she knew exactly how to handle Pyre.

Temp surreptitiously crept toward the exit of the cave, deciding it was better to slink away than address Pyre once more. Who knew what else he'd reveal tonight? She didn't have any more energy to try to figure him out. She slipped past a shadowed cove, making it past the Jester and Tam without notice, and got closer to her destination.

Just as she thought she'd made it free, a familiar hand grabbed at her shoulder and forced a bag over her head once more. Temp huffed but didn't fight Brine. No use incurring any more bumps or bruises. She knew when to fight and when to surrender.

"You really think I'd let you walk out of here alone, eyes open, did you?" Brine growled, jabbing his claws into Tempest's back to push her forward.

"Of course not," she mumbled beneath the bag, her mood souring even further. "Do you have to be so rough? What did I ever do to you?"

Brine didn't answer but at least she didn't feel the sting of his claws again as they moved toward what she presumed was Dotae. How far away was Pyre's den of extravagance from the capital anyway? Minutes? Hours? Her feet already ached, and they'd only just begun.

Fifteen minutes later, the bag was torn from her head, revealing to her the edge of the forest closest to Dotae's border. Thank the stars. She turned to face Brine, just as he grabbed the front of her dress.

His eyes seemed to glow as he muttered, "You might have the Jester fooled into believing you're useful, bitch, but you haven't fooled me. The first time I see you stepping out of line… well, it will be your last."

"I'll keep that in mind," she murmured.

He released her roughly and spun on his heel before moving through the trees as if he were made from the darkness itself.

Tempest rubbed the back of her neck. The Jester was a problem, but so was his wolfish protector. She'd have to tread carefully with that one. While Pyre played games and twisted words, Brine was honest and blunt. She didn't doubt him for one second when he said he'd kill her.

Another wave of pain stabbed her temple. Tempest winced as colorful spots began to dance over her vision. It wouldn't be long now until the migraine slammed into her, full force. "Dumb wolf," she muttered. It was highly unlikely that she'd get any sleep now between the pain and the nausea.

Tempest trudged toward the city gates, rearranging her cloak and pulling her hood up to once more protect her ears from the cold. Then, she steeled herself for the long trek back to the capital city, to her bed.