Page 14 of The Rook

Tempest shuddered. Despite what the king had said the day before about having her doanythingto infiltrate the Talagan rebels,thisfelt far more like his actual order.

And it sounded like a threat.

Exhausted, with muscles crying from all the physical exertion and a near-permanent headache coloring her vision, Tempest stalked back to the barracks, thinking that she’d rather sleep the entire day away. She swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Scrubbing the king’s slobber off of her was top priority.

She missed a step when she spotted an interloper in the barracks. Her lip curled.

Pyre. The Jester. He lay sprawled across her bunk with a lazy grace that spoke of dark nights and silk sheets. Could she not catch a break? First, the king, and, now, the kitsune? Surely, a higher power was conspiring against her.

Tempest’s hand flew to the hilt of her sword entirely on instinct even as she slammed her door shut to protect the two of them from prying eyes. Her brow twitched, the lingering headache on the verge of becoming a full-on migraine simply from looking at Pyre smoking a pipe without a care in the world while he so clearly watched her reaction, with twitching fox ears and amused, golden eyes.

A bloody pipe.

“Just what in the name of Dotae are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing around the empty barracks as if there was someone lurking in the shadows.

“Can’t I miss you?” he crooned.

SEVEN

Pyre

It had been several years since Pyre had entered the city walls of Dotae through a proper entrance. Nobody knew him there, so he could very well have walked straight through the city gates without much trouble. All he would have had to do was resist the urge to show off, hide his shifter features, and keep his eyes downcast so nobody noticed the shine to his golden irises. But he’d never taken the easy route. It had become a game of sorts, finding new ways to infiltrate Heimserya.

And today was no different.

His reluctance to use the city gates this time around had some relation to his work. Tam was a problem. At one time, the smuggler had been as trustworthy as a smuggler could be, but the man was cagey. Well, cagier than normal. Something wasn’t right. Pyre was determined to figure out what was afoot. Earlier, he’d sauntered into Dotae through the slum quadrantwithout a problem. So how in the blazes had his men been caught? There hadn’t even been any guards for hours. It had been an easy journey over the ramshackle roofs of the slums.

Even though it had been years since he had been in Dotae, Pyre still knew perfectly well where the Hound barracks was. He traipsed through the city, taking in every sight, sound, and smell. Sewage permeated the air of the slums. The poorer district hadn’t changed since his last visit.

The pleasant smell of baked bread drifted by him as he crossed through the merchant quarter, though Pyre was proud to admit that Rina’s bakery in the forest smelled better. He hated the merchant quarter. It was full of crooks and too loud for his ears. Merchants were the worse. They paraded themselves around as honest folk while robbing people blind. They were the real thieves. At least Pyre didn’t pretend he was something he wasn’t. Anyone who came to him knew exactly what they were getting into. He did not hide his nature, never had.

The barracks came into view, and he scanned the area. This was where he needed to exercise extreme caution, mindful of any approaching footsteps. Infiltrating the Hounds was easy, but it paid to be cautious. It had saved his life many times.

Pyre sniffed the air. A small rumble escaped him at the tell-tale female scent.

Tempest. His Hound.

His lip curled. The Hound. She wasn’t his.

Yet.

Her scent was faint at first, for the air was full of the sour stench of sweat from training members of the Hounds, the tang of metal swords clashing against each other and the overwhelming, acrid bitterness of smoke from a fire. Pyrenosed in and out of various rooms in the barracks, unable to help himself from pilfering a few weapons and interesting items that took his fancy. They wouldn’t miss them.

A dagger with a carved bone handle. An ornate key that was so expensively made it had to be protecting something valuable. Pyre loved a good puzzle, and he would enjoy discovering what the key unlocked. He discovered a map of Dotae with several seemingly innocuous areas of the city circled in bright red ink.

Another puzzle.

Lastly, Pyre stole an emerald ring from the barracks. It was too slender to fit upon his fingers, which meant it was likely a keepsake of some female relative of a Hound. Pyre felt no sympathy for the Hound who would discover it gone. They were paid murderers.

He neared the final barracks building. Tempest’s scent was stronger. A thrill of excitement caused his heartbeat to quicken. The smell of the female Hound always caused such a physical reaction from him. What was it about her that riled him? He used to resent it, but now he had grown to accept that some visceral, animal instinct in him was irrefutably drawn to the woman.

Pyre glanced around and quickly scaled the side of the building to peek inside. It was a long rectangular room full of beds with a large fireplace at one end and a door at the other. Completely empty. Excellent.

Quickly, he picked the lock on the window and slid the glass pane out of the way, before carefully slipping inside and closing the window behind him. Pyre dropped to the stone floor, landing on the balls of his feet. He scanned the room once more for any hidden enemies. He found none. It was a drab room—all utility and no luxury. Beds ran along the two, long parallel walls with weapons scattered about.

This was where his enemies rested. A surge of energy and adrenaline rushed through him. He was in their den, and they knew nothing of it.

His men hated him putting himself at such a risk, and, in truth, Pyre agreed with them. If he was in their position, he would not want the Jester crawling through Dotae simply to nose around the barracks of the king’s assassins.

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