Page 26 of Awakened Destiny
Callen
The scent of coffee hits me as I round the corner. Rory and Tiernan stand there, balancing trays laden with breakfast and steaming mugs.
"How's she doing?" I ask, nodding at their cargo.
Rory's shoulders slump. "She's okay, I guess. Still shaken up."
"We're keeping a close watch. She needs time." Tiernan’s face gives nothing away, but there’s a note of concern in his voice that he can’t hide.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaustion seeping into my bones. "I'll stop by later. Make sure she eats something."
They nod and head off, leaving me to face the crowded dining hall alone. Fuck, I need caffeine.
As I push through the doors, Laria's shrill voice cuts through the chatter. That bitch never shuts up.
I try to tune her out, focusing on the coffee station ahead. One foot in front of the other. Don't engage.
But her words slither into my ears anyway, poisonous and cruel. "She’s unstable... dangerous. The freak is a threat to us all... "
That vamp never learns.
A group of students huddle around Laria's table, eyes wide as they drink in her venomous gossip. Idiots.
I pour my coffee with measured movements, fighting the urge to march over there and shut her up. Permanently.
The mug burns my palm as I grip it too tightly and I make myself take a deep breath. There are bigger battles. Laria is the least of our problems.
I turn, scanning the room, and that's when I spot Eira. She's off to the side, not part of Laria's flock, but close enough to hear every word. Her eyes are fixed on the floor, shoulders hunched.
Guilt. It's written all over her.
My shoulders tense. Eira. The Council. All of them playing their fucked-up games with Brigid's life. Eira’s role in all of it will need to be dealt with, eventually. I take a sip of coffee, bitter and scalding. It matches my mood.
Laria's voice rises again, dripping with false concern. "I heard she stole magic from the Council itself. Can you imagine? She's even more of a menace now."
The crowd gasps. Whispers ripple through the room.
I grind my teeth. How the fuck does she know anything about what went down with the Council? Someone's been talking. Someone on the Council.
My eyes go back to Eira. She looks ready to bolt.
I down half my coffee in one go, ignoring the burn. There's a growing list of situations I need to deal with.
The king is dead and the throne sits empty. The Council’s probably already measuring Mother for a new crown so they can jerk the ruler of the Fae kingdom around on puppet strings. I can see it now—Queen Maywen’s vacant smile, her hands trembling around a scepter someone else wields. Weakness disguised as mourning. They’ll eat her alive.
Then there are still the elites, and the Council.
Laria.
Eira.
But first things first. Laria needs a reminder that she’s been told to keep her mouth shut where Brigid is concerned.
I set my mug down with a sharp click. Time to remind these fuckers who they're dealing with. The coffee turns to acid in my stomach when Laria hits her stride. She perches on a table like some vulture. "They let that shadow bitch walk free after everything she’s done?" Her laugh rings out too bright, too sharp. "Makes you wonder who’s really pulling the strings around here."
Her little entourage leans forward.
My fist tightens around the mug handle.
