Page 1 of The Rook

ONE

Tempest

The king’s royal banquet had barely been going on for an hour, and Tempest was about to lose her mind. She did not know how she was managing to sit, quiet and obedient, surrounded by people who were conspiring to frame Talaga for everything that was going wrong. It did not help her nerves that she was serving as a double agent.

She ground her teeth together. Winter’s bite, she hated how that sounded. She eyed the gilded merriment around her. If anyone knew that she’d aligned herself with the Jester… Tempest blew out a soft breath. Anyone associated with the renowned Dark Court was quickly executed without hesitation. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself hung from the nearest pole.

“They should be exterminated,” a weasel-like man with thick, caterpillar brows muttered to his group of companions.

Tempest hid her scowl and kept her expression blank,taking a slow sip of her cider. It would be so easy to take out the blathering aristocrat. Her fingers twitched with the need to hold a blade.

Calm yourself. Killing everyone will solve nothing. Stop thinking like a Hound and think like a spy. Think like the Jester. What would he do?

Tempest bit back a laugh. She was reasonably certain that Pyre would waste no time in dismantling the king's court from within. He certainly had the skills and manipulation. But murdering Heimserya’s war council and its royal family—particularly the king himself—would not help the Talagan cause. No, it would only make things worse. Talaga did not have the numbers to survive an all-out war against Heimserya, which was why Pyre and his band of shifters needed Tempest.

A double agent.

She set her goblet down and smoothed her hands over her silky dress, all the while studying the highborn murderers around her. She still could not believe she allowed herself to be caught in the Jester’s intricate web.

One week had passed since she’d seen him.

A beautiful woman glanced in Tempest’s direction and whispered to her companion. How long could Tempest keep her secrets? She wasn’t overly worried about the gossips in court, but one of her uncles was bound to figure something out—Aleks, Maxim, or Dima.Tempest caught the eye of her fourth and final uncle across the table.

Madrid. Calling him her uncle was a bit of a stretch. He’d had a hand in training her, but he’d left the rest up to the other men. Not that she minded terribly. She was woman enough to admit that the head of the King’s Hounds scared her. His gaze slid over the crowd, pausing briefly on her.

Tempest feigned calmness, even as her pulse sped up. The slight tension in her shoulders disappeared when Madrid’s attention moved on. She needed to be wary of him. Temp had no doubt Madrid suspected, at the very least, that she was keeping something from him. But she hoped her obvious discomfort around King Destin was enough to distract him from the truth.

She examined the king’s empty dais. It was a relief he wasn’t in attendance tonight. It was difficult to hide her loathing for the man. Guilt pricked her. Partly, it was due to the king's betrayal of his people and his intent to frame the Talagans for the drug currently sweeping its way through village after village, killing almost everyone who consumed it. His alarming confidence, lusty appetites, and ruthless desire to gain whatever he wanted was problematic. Especially since he was determined to have her.

On the positive side, he hadn’t sent for her all week. His chambers were not somewhere she wanted to be. Ever. Sharing the king’s bed, or becoming his consort, was undoubtedly his intention. Her face twitched, and she clamped down on the urge to sneer at the thought. It seemed impossible to keep up the ruse that she was interested in him. And dangerous. He wasn’t one to be trifled with. For a moment, Tempest worried over the reasonwhythe king hadn’t sent for her. Maybe he was capable of occasionally being too busy to deal with his hedonistic impulses. If only wishes came true.

Ladies simpered, and young men strutted about trying to catch the females’ attention. It made her sick. A war was brewing, people were dying, and yet these people were drinking and eating like nothing was wrong.

“You do not seem to be eating much, Tempest,” Madridmurmured. He spoke so quietly that nobody took notice of their conversation. Even though he stood on the opposite side of the table, she heard his words.

She blinked. The man moved too silently for his own good. “It is difficult to eat when talk of war is filling the air,” she replied.

“Never took you for someone with a weak stomach,” a highborn man joked.

Tempest arched a haughty brow at him. “We could take this outside and I could show you how weak I’m not.” That shut the pompous peacock up.

Madrid eyed her and turned back to the conversation at hand. Her other uncles pushed forward to listen in.

“Another village was hit yesterday,” one of the members of the war council said. He was an aging man, with a lined face and graying hair. She didn’t know for sure, but his nasally voice was too unique to forget. If she wasn’t wrong, Temp believed him to be the man she’d overheard conspiring with the king to frame Talaga for everything going wrong in the kingdom. He was an ordinary looking sort of man. Unremarkable. It was hard to believe that such depravity lurked beneath the surface. What sort of man would kill women and children? She hated him.

“It was closer to the capital this time. Barely in the forest at all,” Madrid commented.

The relief that washed over her was quickly followed by shame. People had died, and yet she was thankful it wasn’t the village her mum grew up in. It was a wicked, selfish thought, but it was there nonetheless.

“This is concerning.”

Tempest stiffened at the king’s voice behind her.

The snake had slithered from his lair.

In a wave, the men bowed. Temp bit the inside of her cheek when the king’s hand rested on her left shoulder, his thumb brushing her collarbone. He didn’t look at her as he moved closer to the group.

“Before we know it, the shifters will be upon us in Dotae,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time before they prey on some of the more isolated villages.”

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