Page 71 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

“No? No! Ronan, you have a trial in four hours. You’ve been in bed squealing like a hog fifteen minutes into his orgasm since I came back. Why aren’t you up yet?”

“What is it with you and the swine analogies?”

“Ronan!”

“What?” he snapped, his temper slipping free. He couldn’t recall a fucking thing after Bast left him at the Siren the night before, but his head felt as if an entire war band had taken up residence inside it.

Spying the black rectangle beside the bed, Sebastian stomped across the room and threw it at him. “You haven’t even read your instructions yet!”

“Oops,” he offered with a slight shrug because really, what else was there to say?

“Oops? Ronan,” he cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “it’s like you aren’t taking this seriously at all. The fact that I, of all people, am acting more responsibly than you should be indication enough how very wrong things are here. Do you have any idea how appalling that is?”

Well, when he put it that way... But it seemed Sebastian was just getting started.

“You know how I abhor responsibility.Iam the drunken but loveable rogue.Youare the respectable one. Do not force me to trade places with you.” Bast stomped his foot indignantly. “I did not sign up for this.”

“You’re the one who couldn’t pay his debts.”

“I am yourguide,not your... your... manservant. It’s bad enough you sent me on an errand you don’t even recall.”

“Peace, Sebastian. You’ve made your point. Quite shrilly, I might add.”

“Have I? Because you. Are. Still. In. Bed!”

He tried to toss another pillow, but Ronan caught it mid-air and bared his teeth in a snarl. “Watch it, Bast.”

Sensing he was pushing it, Bast adopted a different tack. “Have you given up, then? Is that it?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Are you sure? Because this”—he gestured at Ronan’s disheveled state—“does not look like a man intent on winning back the love of his life he spent the last five years searching for.”

“So I got a little drunk—”

“A little? You smell worse than an entire fucking distillery. If I were to light a torch, the room would go up in flames. It’s a good thing you didn’t accidentally fart fire in your sleep and set yourself ablaze.”

Ronan had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. It wasn’t funny, not really. The man made a series of excellent points. He just had a truly colorful way of going about it.

“It was a rough night,” he finally mumbled, having no other explanation for his behavior.

“It would serve you right if you failed tonight.”

He didn’t think he could withstand any more of Bast’s tough love. “I’m opening my letter, all right? Will you shut up now?”

Sebastian pursed his lips. “That depends. Can I read it?”

“That depends,” Ronan mocked, “can you keep your fucking mouth shut? You’re not secretly working for the High Lord, are you?”

Something flickered in Bast’s eyes. There and then gone. “I’m allergic to responsibility, remember? Besides, I’m too good looking to work for anybody but myself.”

Ronan started to roll his eyes, but it made his stomach swoop, so he blinked and winced instead. “Come here then, but if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will hunt you down and make your insides your outsides. Understand?”

Bast shuddered. “I liked you better when you were unconscious.”

Breaking the wax seal with its tiny constellation of stars, Ronan pulled out a thick piece of parchment, his eyebrows climbing higher with each word he read.

You are cordially invited to attend the Lunaris Festival. The party will begin at sundown with a night-long masquerade celebrating the heavens themselves. As we pay our respect to the chaos from which we were created, let us look to the sky and revel in the glory of the stars.

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