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Chapter Nineteen

Kieran

“Why don’t you get freshened up while we wait for Samara to return?

” I gestured towards the small washroom and gave Cali a bright, charming smile.

It was the one I used when high-ranking Moroi started arguments during House events and I needed to de-escalate the situation.

Not flirty exactly, but confident with just a hint of mischievousness.

I’d practiced the smile a lot, and it had never let me down. Samara, Alaric, and even Roth might be great at keeping track of facts and the specifics of a trade negotiation, but nobody was better at reading people and manipulating their emotions than I.

“I’m not some simpering fool courting House favor, Kieran,” Cali sneered. “So you can wipe that stupid smile off your ugly face.”

Apparently, Cali was immune to my charm.

“Rude.” I glared at her. “My face is stunning .”

“Yes, it is,” Draven agreed from where he was sprawled on the settee, watching me and Cali square off. Alaric and Roth were also still seated, and I got the impression that they wished they had wine to sip or food to munch on while they watched me try to handle Cali.

Meanwhile, Vail and the Salvatore Marshals were taking turns glaring at each other and watching Cali like she was a predator someone had thrown into the room and locked the door behind.

Which . . . was kind of accurate. Cali had stalked in with a pissed-off expression a few minutes ago, which had turned murderous when she hadn't seen Samara. A quick reassurance from me that Samara would be back soon and that she’d asked us all to wait for her was the only thing that kept the Furie from rampaging past Vail and Brennan, who had followed after her—hands on their weapons.

Cali had glanced around the room and relaxed slightly at seeing Alaric, Roth, and Draven all seated and looking unworried. She must have come to the conclusion that nothing was wrong—at least that nothing in the last forty minutes had gone wrong—and that Samara would be returning.

That didn’t mean she was happy about the situation though, and I was trying to make sure no blood was shed while Samara fetched Rynn—something that was growing more difficult by the minute.

“Whose face do you find prettier, Draven?” Cali’s head snapped towards the prince. “Kieran’s or Samara’s?”

Someone—I was pretty sure it was Roth—let out an exaggerated whistle. I was starting to suspect that they were every bit as much of a shit-stirrer as their older brothers and had just hidden it well all this time.

“That’s an impossible question, Furie,” Draven drawled. “How fortunate for me that I don’t have to choose. Instead, I get to enjoy both of their exquisite faces.”

“I’m so going to swallow you whole until I choke later.” I gave him a smoldering look and was rewarded by his eyes darkening before I returned my attention to Cali.

“What?” she snapped when I just stared at her and didn’t say anything. Given how tightly wound she was, I should probably continue trying to calm her, but technically, Samara had just ordered that I keep her distracted, so . . .

I cocked my head. “So, you and Malachi fucking again?”

Her eyes widened to an almost comical degree. “Excuse me?”

Bullseye. I’d known something had been off when that Furie had come looking for her at House Harker.

It hadn’t been one particular thing, but a bunch of little tells.

The way he’d said Cali’s name with a hint of dark possession, how the muscles along his jawline had flexed when we’d said we hadn’t seen or heard from her in weeks, and how he’d been somewhat reluctant to leave when the other Furie with him had announced they’d tried their best but needed to return home.

“You know, big bastard, about yay high.” I held my hand up way above my head.

I wasn’t short by any means, a solid six feet, unlike Draven and Vail, who both had several inches on me.

My hand was above where even their heads would be.

“Dark eyes, messy, shoulder-length black hair, leathery wings. Not ringing any bells?”

“That’s the Furie who stopped by House Harker looking for Cali,” Alaric said out loud—I assumed for Draven’s benefit because Alaric and Roth had been there that day, and I didn’t think Alaric gave a single fuck about keeping Vail in the loop.

Draven hummed in response. “Interesting.”

“It’s not!” Cali scowled at him before crossing her arms and glaring daggers at me. “You’re mistaken. Clearly, you’re losing your touch for reading situations, Kieran.”

“Actually, I wasn’t entirely sure the two of you were at it again.” I grinned. “But I am now.”

The Furies didn’t do relationships or emotional commitments of any kind.

It was a strategy to keep their emotions under control and limit the chances of them losing themselves to that all-consuming rage that always burned within them.

Cali wasn’t one to follow rules, and she’d been involved with Malachi before, but when the Furie elders had ordered them to cease their relationship, Malachi had obeyed.

I was surprised he’d decided to disobey now, and even more surprised that Cali had taken him back and not slit his throat.

Cali’s golden eyes glowed, and I saw Vail stiffen out of the corner of my eye, but I just let my grin widen at the pissed-off Furie. “If he disrespects you again, let us know. We’ll make sure his body is never discovered and find you a nice Moroi to fuck.”

She snorted, and the glow faded from her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m pretty sure I’d break a Moroi.”

Before I could start naming potential fuck buddies for Cali—ones who probably wouldn’t mind being broken by the beautiful Furie—the sound of footsteps came from the hall, and we all looked towards the closed door.

A few moments later, it opened, and Samara strode inside with Rynn and Aniela behind her.

“Rynn?” Cali started. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying Moroi hospitality,” she said dryly, flicking her long brown hair that was in desperate need of a good brush over her shoulder.

Samara coughed politely as Cali’s piercing stare bounced back and forth between the three of them. I decided that I didn’t want to be standing between Cali and Rynn, so I practically dove for the settee and reclaimed my seat next to Draven.

“Smooth,” Alaric muttered on my other side.

“Blow me.”

Alaric snorted. “Pretty sure that’s pretty boy’s job.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Draven arched a brow at Alaric.

My best friend scowled, sinking further into the cushions.

Ignoring us, Cali marched across the room. Her path took her directly where I’d been standing, and I had no doubt that, had I still been there, she would have flung me out of her way.

“You’re okay?” She crashed to a halt in front of Rynn, her hands quickly and efficiently checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine. Quite fussing!” Rynn slapped Cali’s hands away, only for the Furie to key in on a spot of dried blood on her tunic and yank the clothing up, exposing Rynn’s ribs.

Several claw marks were still healing, and she had dark bruises, but nothing life-threatening.

Still, it must have been bad if she hadn’t healed completely already.

“What the fuck is this?” Cali demanded.

“I’ll get to that!” Rynn snapped and again smacked Cali’s hands away. She gave Samara a pleading look. “Will you please tell her I’m okay?!”

Samara tapped a finger against her bottom lip. “Mmmm . . . no. We were both worried about you, so you’ll just have to deal with some light fussing.”

I laughed under my breath, but not quietly enough because Rynn’s wolfish eyes narrowed on me.

I killed any hint of amusement on my face and gave her a small, supportive smile instead.

She wasn’t buying it, but when Cali tugged her tunic up again, she broke our stare off and went back to pulling her clothes out of Cali’s grip.

Pissing off Cali meant you had to watch your back for a while. She’d never kill anyone Samara cared about, but she wasn’t above stabbing you a few times. Nonlethally, of course.

Personally, I preferred that over Rynn’s method of revenge.

The lycanthrope had a very creative mind when it came to pranks, as I’d learned years ago when I’d been flirting with a courtier from another House in front of Samara.

In my defense, Samara had been talking about Demetri all week after visiting him.

He hadn’t revealed his assholeness back then, and she’d actually liked him.

So I’d flirted with the pretty courtier, whose name I didn’t even remember. Samara had cried, and Rynn had put some type of dye into my hair products that could only be described as puke green.

My options had been letting it grow out or shaving my head. I’d chosen the latter and learned that, while Alaric could pull off a closely shorn haircut quite well, I could not.

I’d been very careful to not piss off Rynn again after that.

“Those are wraith wounds.” Cali finally gave up on trying to get a better look at Rynn’s side but didn’t step back. “What. Happened.” She somehow made it more of an order than a question.

Clearly sensing how on edge her friend was, Rynn’s shoulders sagged and some of the defiance fled from her face. “It’s a long story, so I’m going to give you all the short version because we need to get back as soon as possible.”

“Get back where, exactly?” Alaric gave Rynn a questioning look.

Rynn opened her mouth but closed it, glancing at Aniela and then to Samara.

It was a gamble, but we needed more help, and my gut told me to trust Aniela. Apparently, Samara felt the same because she gave her best friend a curt nod.

“Ruined temple,” Rynn answered. “In the badlands.”

“I know that place . . .” Aniela trailed off with a frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s where we got our asses kicked by some wraiths and barely survived.” My brows furrowed together. “Why exactly would we go back there?”