Page 8 of Embers of Fate
“Mila,” I say sharply, breaking her reverie.
She blinks, focusing on me. “Hmm? What is it?”
I bite my lip, fighting to keep my voice calm. “Give me your jeans,” I demand, unable to break the centuries-old tradition of our clan, where everything is an order instead of a request.
Mila’s nose scrunches in confusion. “What? Why?”
“Your jeans,” I repeat impatiently through gritted teeth. “Now!”
Her scowl deepens as she contemplates her limited options. “But then, what willIwear?” she protests.
“I’ll give you my skirt!” I say, my voice hoarse with frustration. She’s not getting it, is she? “I can’t have Gavriil see me like this. You know how he gets.”
“Sam...” she whines, not realizing the gravity of the situation.
“Mila!” I exclaim, widening my eyes in urgency. “I would do it for you, you know that.”
Understanding dawns on her face, followed by resignation. “Ugh... fine,” she sighs, wriggling out of her jeans.
“Dima,” I bark at our bodyguard, giving him a stern look as he sits quietly behind the wheel. “Not a word of this to Gavriil!” Immediately, my hand flies to my mouth in a futile attempt to stifle my laughter. It’s not like me to be so short with Dima—after all, he’s an Elite member of my brother’s Royal Guard. But maybe it’s the martinis talking. Or maybe, this whole absurd situation is just too damn funny.
His eyes lock on mine through the rearview mirror. Dima simply smiles forgivingly. Mila’s older brother has been immune to our foolishness for as long as I can remember.
I turn back to Mila, struggling to keep a straight face. “Oh, and by the way...” I whisper conspiratorially. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
“Oh my gods, Samara!” Mila’s face contorts with disapproval as she glares at me. “TMI!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in front of her.
Dima shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “For the love of Chernobog… Why me?” he grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed by our antics.
I unzip my skirt and hand it over to Mila, her eyes clenching in disgust as she tosses me the pair of jeans. “Keep them!” she says with a grimace.
A giggle escapes me as I slip on the denim piece. “I will,” I tell her playfully.
“Alright,” I heave a sigh, flipping my dark hair back. “I’m ready.”
I’m not.
Laughter fades tounease as I approach the manor. My neck prickles, my skin feeling suddenly exposed. But Gavriil will not see me falter. We Ursa bow to no one, least of all each other.
Each step takes me closer to Gavriil’s haven—his private study filled with books that serve as his escape. He’s traded axe throwing for reading. A safer pastime, all things considered.
My mouth goes dry as I reach the ornately carved doors. “Be calm… Be strong,” I quietly intone, but my nerves thrum within me like a poorly tuned violin.
My eyes shut tightly as I mentally prepare myself to face my brother, praying to all the gods that he’s in a good mood. Lately, it’s always a gamble with him. The last thing I need is for us to fight right now. My head is swimming from the martinis I downed earlier. Dear gods, please don’t let him notice.
Keep your distance and you’ll be fine.
I nod to myself. That frantic voice speaking in my mind often tells me to behave, but I rarely listen. Some people might call it aconscience.I call herBrenda. And tonight, she’s all I’ve got.
The sudden memory of the gorgeous guy from the nightclub floods my mind… I can’t help but ache for his touch, his skilled fingers tracing patterns on my skin, igniting a fire within me.
No. Focus.My brother awaits behind the door and I must be ready for whatever he expects from me.
I knock, albeit less than thrilled. The door creaks open, revealing none other than Gavriil’s loyal friend and Enforcer. “Sasha,” I greet him with a curt nod.
Seeing him here only sets me further on edge. His sly smile and raised blonde eyebrow scream that he’s learned of my nighttime activities.Damn it. But how much does he know? Does he just know I snuck out to a club, or does he know about Hot Guy? My blood runs cold at the mere thought. No, he can’t possibly know about him. No one saw him, except for Mila, and I trust her completely.
“Welcome back,” Sasha purrs with an obnoxious all-knowing tone, ice-blue eyes boring into me, seeing straight through my soul. I bite back the urge to roll my eyes at his smugness, knowing that in this clan, there are no secrets or privacy. Welcome back, indeed.
