Page 30 of The Rook

Tempest’s mind went to the beautiful invitation in her satchel—the one decorated with a silvery mask. Why didn’t Pyre just tell her outright? Why all the secrecy?

Another few minutes of discussion later and the folk in the room began to filter out through the gigantic double doors. Even in the shadows, she and Briggs stood out. Tempest supposed between the long, silken night gown, the blanket, and her periwinkle hair, they were hard to miss. Most of the group just stared but said nothing as they passed her by.

The woman that undulated like waves and seemed to have skin made of water sauntered toward Tempest, her hips swaying like ocean waves. Tempest blinked slowly as she realized that the woman’s skin was blue beneath its iridescence. She was gorgeous, and she smiled, exposing a mouthful of tiny, pointed teeth, which sent a shiver down Tempest’s spine.

“What lovely hair you have,” the woman hummed.

“Leave her alone, Salvae,” Mal said, appearing behind the woman on disturbingly silent feet. He looked the siren up and down with the slightest hint of disgust. Salvae hissed and tossedher light-green hair before storming from the room. Mal followed after without so much as a glance in Tempest’s way.

Rude and strange.

She tipped her head back and stared up at Briggs. “Where in the world is Pyre?”

“Oh,” a familiar voice chuckled from the doorway, “did you miss me that much, Temp?”

THIRTEEN

Tempest

Tempest’s lips curled. The devil finally showed himself.

She resisted the urge to look at him as she tried to get her temper under control.

Getting angry won’t solve anything. Take a deep breath.Dima’s voice echoed through her mind.

Tempest inhaled slowly and swallowed down her annoyance. She swiveled to face the doorway as the Jester made his entrance, arms wide and laughing, like they were the best of friends. Briggs tapped her on the shoulder twice before moving toward the door where Nyx waited.

They were leaving her alone with the knave. Dotae save her.

Pyre grinned, a vulpine fang making an appearance. She wrinkled her nose as he stopped, just a little too close for comfort.

“Do you like our lovely home, Tempest?” he asked.

“Mmhmmm,” she hummed, not able to speak past her irritation that she couldn’t rid herself of.

Pyre tugged at his velvet waistcoat and cocked his head, seemingly waiting for her to continue. He wasn’t getting anything more. It was uncanny how different he looked to when they’d first met. Gone was his pine-green cloak and plain but well-made clothes he had worn during their time in the forest. Now, he was opulently dressed—even more so than when Tempest had been taken to his bizarre cave room. He could rival any prince with the lush velvets and rich silks he adorned himself with.

This wasn’t Pyre. It was the Jester.

She glanced away and swallowed. She hated the outfit, but, more so, she hated howgoodhe looked.

He held his arms out once again and walked toward her, as if he meant to hug her. Like hell. Her rage combusted, and she found herself dropping the blanket and meeting him head on, not with a hug but with her fist. She punched him squarely in the face. Her knuckles screamed, and she shook out her hand as Pyre immediately grabbed his nose and tilted his head backward, a growl beginning in the back of his throat as blood dripped between his fingers.

“That’s for keeping me in the dark and not upholding your word!” Tempest shouted, still shaking her throbbing hand. Her anger had made her punch sloppy. She was lucky she hadn’t broken any bones. Satisfaction slid through her. Messy, it may have been, but successful, she was.

The fox shot her a narrow-eyed glare. “You may have broken my nose.”

She snorted. “I’m sure I’m not the first female to ever punch you in the face. Plus, you deserve it, and you know it.”

“Just what are you talking about?” he asked, annoyance in his tone. “I think you ruined one of my favorite shirts. This is the second time, you know. You’re making this a habit.”

“You were supposed to meet me in the forest!” she replied, shocked by Pyre’s sheer audacity to act as if he had no idea what she meant. “But then you never showed and forced me off onto your cranky wolf subordinate.”

“Brine is lovely,” he retorted. “One of my best.”

Tempest ignored his comment, knowing full-well the Jester discerned how much Brine disliked her. Just another game. “And then I was almost sold off on a ship to some old deviant who, I believe, deals in slaves and drugs. Not only that, but he thought it wise to steal from the Jester. Who does that?”

“No one was really going to sell—”

---