Chapter 21
Twenty-One
The next morning, it felt like I’d just barely fallen asleep before light was streaming into my room. My mind hadn’t been willing to stop spinning the night before, but now waking up felt like a throbbing headache.
When I finally blinked my eyes open, Anayla was sitting across from me, bobbing one crossed leg over the other and turning the pages of her book.
“Ahh!” I sat up, startled.
She put a bookmark in carefully—that was clearly a higher priority than my well-being—and set the book down carefully on the table. “Good morning!”
“Why are you in my room?”
“I was sent to fetch you.”
“By who?”
She raised her brows. “One, you already know who, and two, you seem to hate hearing his name.”
“It’s not his name I hate,” I grumbled, sitting up.
She looked fresh and composed, as if she hadn’t just flown across half the kingdom the day before. I felt like I’d been hit by Fieran’s wings.
“Come on,” she said, tossing a bundle of clothes onto the edge of the bed. “Up and dressed. If you’re going to survive, you’d better get used to early mornings.”
I groaned as I sat up. Did I prefer early death or early mornings?
Anayla ducked into the hall as I washed up, then dressed. The shirt was soft linen, the pants comfortable but snug. Even the boots were high quality. I didn’t want to like any of it, but it was hard not to appreciate how well everything fit.
Still, none of it was as unabashedly sexy and badass at once as Anayla’s close-fitting leathers, with knives tucked along the corset top. I wasn’t sure how her exposed cleavage played well with a fight, but I didn’t remember seeing that much skin when she was fighting before.
“When do I get clothes like yours?” I asked.
“When you earn them. Probably sometime after you stop expecting to die.” She sounded slightly judgmental.
“Do you expect me to die?”
Anayla was apparently very busy walking ahead of me out of the room and couldn’t find words to answer.
In the common room, a long table had already been set, laden with food: platters of honeyed figs and roasted meats and cheeses, fresh bread still steaming hot, yellow butter topped with flakes of salt, and tea scented with vanilla and cinnamon. We didn’t eat this well in my house on the solstice.
I hesitated at the edge of the table. No one told me where to sit, but Anayla claimed the spot beside Asrael, and I found myself across from Fieran, of course.
His gaze caught me and he gave me a tilted, beautiful smile. “Good morning, killer.”
A last mortal servant bustled in, setting down another pot of tea. She looked up from nestling it between the plates, a smile fixed on her lips—and then looked up and met my eyes. Her smile fled instantly, her eyes widening.
Then she was gone, bustling out the door, but I was left with a churning feeling in my stomach. Fae and mortals alike seemed to know I didn’t belong at these tables. It was only Fieran who insisted I did.
“The jam is amazing,” Anayla told me, passing the basket of biscuits and jam over. “And Dairen is going to be polite and pass you the ham platter instead of eating it all himself.”
Dairen looked up, offended, even though there was half a pig’s worth of ham on his plate. He handed the rest of the platter to me.
“She’s doing that weird mothering thing again,” Maura complained. “You gave her a new victim, Fear.”
“We love it,” Fieran assured Anayla, even though Maura’s face suggested she did not.
“You would never believe she took Last Recruit Standing.” Dairen grinned as she reached for the platter and he pretended not to notice, handing it over to Asrael.
Asrael looked confused and passed it to Maura, as if he didn’t understand the game.
Maura grinned at me. “You can’t actually trust Anayla. She looks sweet, but she’s savage.”
That was an unsettling thought. Anayla rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to get over the fact I knocked you out that day, are you?”
Maura was about to protest, when Asrael abruptly locked eyes with me. “You need to learn from Anayla.”
“Learn what?” I asked.
“How to survive when you are…” He trailed off, probably mercifully.
“Going to be beaten into, well…” Maura picked up the raspberry jam jar and tossed it in the air.
Fieran snatched it from her before she could catch it, his reactions lightning fast, and dug a spoon in to smear it on his toast. “Asrael is right. Everyone else has trained for years, but you’ve got an advantage. You’ll learn from us.”
“How?” I demanded.
“Dirty tricks. Magical cheats. They’re a specialty of our clan,” Anayla told me. “I’ll help you!”
“You are the biggest cheat,” Dairen told her.
“He’s mad I knocked him out too,” she told me with a grin.
As their banter washed over me, I was torn between smiling at in-jokes I didn’t understand and sitting in silence. Worst of all, I could feel Fieran watching. I left a piece of bread and cheese at the edge of my plate, untouched by the eggs and meat and fruit, so perhaps I could pilfer it later.
Something warm brushed against my leg.
I stiffened, setting down my glass wrong on the edge of a knife, so it rocked dangerously. Asrael reached over and set it down properly, glancing at me curiously.
Under the table, the shadow of something massive loomed.
Rees.
Fieran’s monster of a dog—or wolf, or hellbeast, or whatever he actually was—padded slowly beneath the table like he owned the place. As far as I was concerned, he did. When his nose bumped my thigh, I froze, my entire body locking up.
Across from me, Fieran’s gaze sharpened. “He won’t bite you.”
“That’s a big promise,” I muttered, barely breathing.
“Rees has better manners than Fieran,” Maura said, smirking into her glass.
Asrael casually dropped a slice of sausage under the table. Rees’s wet nose withdrew from my leg in an instant and the entire table thumped upward as he dove for Asrael. I exhaled in relief.
“Az!” Fieran warned.
“What?” Asrael said innocently. “He’s hungry.”
“He’s always hungry. Or so he makes you think. He’s also supposed to be well-trained despite your best efforts.”
Rees gave a soft huff under the table. I wondered if a dog could be smug. Fieran glared as Asrael fed him another piece.
I stabbed a piece of fruit with my fork, feeling like a ghost pretending to sit at the table of the living. They weren’t related—not by blood, anyway—but even when they tried to include me, they felt like a family that was already complete.
It was uncomfortable being the outsider at their table, and it was worse because part of me admired the way they all fit together.
But I’d never be one of them.
Fieran’s gaze flicked to me. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
“For what, exactly?”
“I’m going to start your training this morning out in the arena. Maura will work with you this afternoon. And Anayla and I will see if we can concoct a cheat or two.”
Anayla’s eyes sparkled as if she were excited. Meanwhile, Maura sighed and rubbed her hand across her temple as if she were already exhausted by my presence.
“What is the point of training in combat exactly, when I’m five years behind everyone else?”
“Ten or so, I’d say,” Fieran corrected. “Fifteen compared to some of the better-trained recruits. But you’ll be one day less behind, and you do have a natural flair with a shovel.”
If I had to die here, at least death would be a welcome break from his smart mouth.
He was smirking now, too, his lips quirked on just one side in a way that was unbearably handsome.
I’d never despised the Fae and the shifters for being beautiful before; it was just a fact of life. They were lovely, and we weren’t.
But now, his good looks seemed pointed. Weaponized. He had to know the effect he had on me, which was humiliating. If I weren’t so foolishly mortal, I should see him as ugly for all his scheming.
I wish I did.
“As long as I survive long enough to make sure you keep your promise,” I said crisply.
Anayla and Maura exchanged the briefest glance. Understanding settled over me quickly, and I fixed mock admiration on my face.
“You didn’t tell your friends that you’re keeping my dying brother safe in your house?” I asked Fieran. “You’re so humble. Keeping it quiet that you’re saving his life by bartering with the Fae.”
Maybe I could shame him into helping Tay, no matter what happened to me.
“Is that so?” Dairen asked slowly, looking over at Fieran.
“It takes time to barter with the Fae.” He didn’t look as if he felt he had to explain himself.
Rees brushed my legs again and as I stiffened, Fieran motioned to him under the table; Rees settled himself at Fieran’s feet with a whine of protest. “Her brother will be fine until we’ve gotten through the first leg of the Trials and I have time to negotiate. ”
“Your brother will be all right,” Anayla promised me, then smacked Dairen’s hand as he reached for the bacon on her plate. “Dair, if you steal my food one more time, I swear to the gods, I will forget we were ever friends and stake your hand to this table with my knife.”
Dairen pointed a stolen strip of bacon at her. “You love me too much.”
“There is nothing in this world I love more than I love eating my own damn food,” she shot back, swiping for her bacon, but before she could, Maura leaned over and bit it out of Dairen’s grip.
Dairen leaned back, grabbing his hand. “Maura, you are feral.”
“It’s the only way to get you two to stop,” she said, through a mouthful of stolen food.
Fieran was the only one who was still watching me. I met his gaze evenly as they all kept bantering around us. His golden eyes were tranquil, and he leaned back in his chair as if it were a throne, as if he owned the world.
His friends seemed confident he’d keep his promises.
But they knew a different version of Fieran. Belonging to a family like theirs was a powerful thing. Of course Fieran would keep his promises to them.
“Come on.” Fieran pushed his chair back. “You keep looking at me like you want to hit me. Let’s make your dreams come true.”