Page 75 of A Warrior's Fate

She wrenched up at the feeling of a hand on her arm and the jostling of her bag strap.

Whipping around, she found Ravona with an arm outstretched. “Would you like me to take this for you?”

Isla blinked.

She could let her take it. Get it out of this room, as far away from here as possible. But where would it end up? With Winslow or with some nosy guards who’d pry through it? She couldn’t risk letting it out of her sight.

Fighting to keep her tone even, she said, “No, that’s fine. Thank you though.”

Ravona nodded before giving one more bow to them both and backing out of the room. The hard sound of the door closing behind her couldn’t help but make her jump, and the high click of the latch may as well have been the snapping of a trap made for a mouse. Her body went stiff under the Imperial Alpha’s stare—slightly narrowed, always calculating. And though it shouldn’t have been her instinct before her leader, for a moment, all Isla wanted to do was match it—but that air of defiance was squashed before it could manifest into anything she’d regret. She shifted her gaze to meet his before quickly diverting it, remembering well the lessons of her childhood.

Never look an alpha—especially the Alpha—directly in the eye.

She was careful adjusting her bag on her arm, hoping there was no scrape of metal against wood or ruffling of papers. “I apologize, Alpha, for my appearance. It was a long ride back, and it’s quite hot outside.”

At her tone, Alpha Cassius chuckled, and Isla risked a glance again.

“Please, Isla, you’re like family,” he said, taking a few steps closer, resting his hands on the back of the long leather couch facing her. “We don’t need the formality.” He gestured to the dry bar against the wall beside them, a generous spread of liquors and spirits and wines. “Can I offer you anything?”

Isla sized up the array, mouth almost salivating at the idea of the burn of wine down her throat. At the thought of the blissful fog it would bring her into. But it was far too early to be drinking in front of the Alpha. Though it was also rude to refuse his offer. “I’ll take some water if you have it.”

The slightest look of amusement took to the Alpha’s face as he walked to the table and grabbed a pitcher filled with clear liquid to pour. He placed her filled glass on one of the coasters atop the small table set in the middle of the seating area, both pieces etched with the Imperial crest.

Isla caught the hint and battled away the panic that rose in her chest.

The Imperial Alpha had taken time out of his day to sit and share a drink with her? To talk with her? She could count the number of one-on-one conversations they’d had in her twenty-one years of life on one hand, and most of those had been at times of convenience for no longer than a minute or two when her father or Adrien had stepped away. Never like this. Never direct and intentional.

She swallowed before slowly dropping her bag to the floor at a distance from where she stood. Focused and calm. She walked to the chair and sat, the soft leather caving slightly at her weight. Focus. She took hold of her glass. Calm. “Thank you.”

Alpha Cassius nodded in response before preparing himself a small glass of whiskey. “If you don’t mind…long day.”

It was only a little past noon.

As Isla chanced a small laugh, the Alpha lowered himself to the couch across from her and lifted his glass. “Cheers to you, Warrior.”

Isla stilled, blinking at the praise. At the unease that had come with it, rather than pride.

She raised hers too. “Thank you, Alpha.”

At the formality, Cassius chuckled again before lifting his beverage a bit higher and tipping it back. Isla mirrored the action, more grateful for the clean, cool liquid on her tongue than she’d expected she’d be.

Cassius sighed against the burn of his liquor. “You’re the only member of our pack I cleared for this year’s running, and you didn’t disappoint. You did us all very proud. I’m looking forward to having you in my ranks.”

The words weren’t missed on Isla. His ranks.

Ezekiel’s voice crept into her head against the backdrop of their argument as they’d walked out of Callisto’s forest and back to the infirmary. It was as if she could feel his wicked, haughty grin circling her thoughts. She’d been so vehement in her argument of where the warriors stood, who they served. They worked for the continent, to protect its people. They didn’t act as agents to maintain the Imperial Alpha’s position at the top of the hierarchy.

But Alpha Cassius knows that, she told herself. It was just odd phrasing. Though, still, she wanted to make a point. So, she grinned, putting on the charm she’d worked on mastering for years to finagle officials, and said with ease, “I’m eager to do my part in helping the continent.”

The corner of Cassius’s lips twitched up as if he’d clocked the precision she’d chosen, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he sat back. “There may be action sooner than you think. I’m afraid our times of peace may be coming to an end. Rogues have been a problem on some subjacent borders recently—Rhea, Charon, Deimos. They’re overwhelming the guard, getting into villages and towns, stealing supplies, terrorizing the citizens. I’ll likely be deploying some warrior units to assist in the eradication efforts.” Cassius downed the rest of his drink, then went quiet, staring down at his empty glass. “It’s hard when people forget their place.” He met Isla’s eyes again, and she straightened. He’d been talking about the rogues, yet still, the words stirred something in her. “It’s important to deal with the issue quickly and efficiently before too much damage is done or panic is incited.”

Isla’s grip on her glass constricted.

Quickly and efficiently. As he’d wanted everything with Lukas to be dealt with. The fewer people in the know about the divergence from order, the better.

There was so much that she wanted to say—to counter, to question—but knew their “informality” had its limits. She didn’t have a death wish.

“It will likely be a while before I’m allowed out in the field, I believe.” She settled for instead, hating the gnawing of something like cowardice in her gut. “I haven’t even received my lumerosi yet.”

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