Page 52 of The Coven of Ruin
Looking around him, she found his usual two partners in crime were in tow, Vaunt and Kirla. They gave her perfunctory waves and head nods before continuing their conversation. Before The Arena she had merely tolerated them because they were friends with Kace. Now, she would have been perfectly content to never see them again.
“Did you not get my letters?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes—eyes that held more pupil than maple. She had seen this dead gaze on him before when he lost his temper, but here, in this moment, it unsettled her more than any other time.
“I suppose not since you were here the whole time.”
A lie it would be. “No, I didn’t. I was rather busy at the Akeso before I left too. It was all very sudden. I’m sorry.” She studied him like one does anything that was volatile and likely to rupture.
Demurielle either had impeccable timing or noticed her shift in attitude as she stepped forward. “Hello, my name is Demurielle, and this is Zyana. We’re friends of Trista’s. I don’t think we’ve ever met.” Zyana pressed a little closer to her too. She could only imagine that Demurielle knew without a doubt that Kace was not a member of the Circes.
The charm was there again. “Hello, ladies,” he said, looking them both over with cursory glances. “I’m Kace. I’m sure this one has mentioned me before.” The gleam in his eye as he met Trista’s seemed almost flirtatious.
Looking at her friends, she quickly explained, “Kace is a childhood friend of mine. I’m sure I’ve—“
“Friend!” he exclaimed with a chuckle. “And here I thought we were much more than that, Trista.”
Kirla, for once, did her a favor and saved her from answering as she moved forward. Her short, straight hair swayed with each bouncy step. “I’m Kirla, and this is Vaunt.”
They exchanged greetings. Kirla complimented Demurielle and ignored her and Zyana altogether. Demurielle was the perceived threat, she supposed. Trista could practically see her digging her claws into Kace as if to say, ‘he’s mine.’
Illean approached them with tankards, accompanied by another mage from The Coven of Mountain and Moss.
“Meeting with the enemy now.” His voice came from behind her, all melodic thunder.Ares. Relief flooded through her, only to be swept away with concern. The God of War pulled her hair off her shoulder, dipping his head to be heard. “And during my song too. That’s almost insulting.”
Grae lifted his chin in greeting, and she waved her fingers at him before he said something to Zyana that made her scoff.
She half turned to look at Ares. “I wasn’tmeetingwith Illean,“ she whispered. “He just happens to know my friend.”
It happened so fast that it took two breaths before she registered the next moment. She was pulled forward by the wrist, and the smack of a sound let her know that Ares had been pushed, though not hard enough to make the muscled god give ground.
“Keep walking. She’s not interested,” Kace snarled.
Trista tore her wrist free from his grasp. “Don’t,“ she rebuked breathily, stepping away from the mage so fast that she ended up backing into Ares again.
He steadied her with one large hand on her bicep before letting go just as quickly. It only took her seconds to read the faces of those around her. Demurielle and Zyana were shocked, but Zy’s hand rested on her dagger, and she was staring hard at Kace. Kace’s nostrils were flared, and he looked at Trista like she had betrayed him. Kirla held her hand to her mouth while Vaunt and Illean braced themselves. Brune stood with his arms crossed, his focus moving between Illean and Kace. Beside Brune, the Iron Prince stood with a general air of unease.
But it was Grae who broke the silence. “Curious. You’re left-handed.”
A look of confusion blended with the possessive anger on Kace’s face as he looked from Ares to Grae. “Aye. Obviously. Why?”
Illean halted Vaunt’s meaningful approach. Smart.
“Just taking note of it.” Though she could tell he was smiling, his voice held such stern tension that she looked at the god, who was usually so laid back. One corner of his mouth was lifted in an easy smirk, and a wood pick rested between his lips. But it was his eyes that held the threat. “The next time you touch my brother, that’s the hand I’ll cut off.”
Kace’s face went red, and his mouth worked silently before he could collect his dignity. “Brother,” he scoffed, looking between Ares and Grae. “And who even are you?” She supposed he couldn’t think of much else to say in retaliation.
“General Brune”—Grae gestured with his thumb over his shoulder—“the big fellow that is no doubt ready to tear your limbs off, and General Reas here are my brothers.” He cockily slid the pick to the other side of his mouth as he looked at Illean. “As for who we are, maybe ask your friend, the greatest swordsman in Witch Country.”
Kace looked at her then. He was calculating—the betrayals, implied slights, and his own embarrassing actions. “I suppose you’re fucking him then?” His voice dripped with malice as he gestured with his chin to Ares. “Or maybe all three of them?”
Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she found they were black with rage. There it was. If ever she thought her friendship could be salvaged with him, he destroyed whatever was left in that exact moment.
“Came to the capital to—“
“How vile and vulgar,” Demurielle gasped, taking a step forward, her small fist raised. Zyana hooked an arm around the fiery witch’s waist and pulled her back against her.
At the same time, Grae moved lightning quick, grabbing Kace by the front of his tunic and pinning his left hand to his side so he couldn’t reach for his dagger. “Be a good mageling and apologize,” he growled.
“Gentlemen, let’s all have some drinks and calm down,” Illean soothed. It was fortunate that Illean had firsthand experience against Ares because she felt that he would have been more inclined to make it physical otherwise.
