Page 89 of A Warrior's Fate

Soon—in Deimos.

The rogues in Deimos.

Eli’s offer.

Isla shook her head to right herself. “I—I never said I was going.” It only registered now that Ameera had overheard her and Eli’s whole exchange, had been listening.

“And why not?” Ameera asked with a challenging lift of her brows. She allowed Isla to stew in her silence for a few heartbeats before she loosened a breath. “I mean, I know you don’t want to be our luna and all, but is it so horrible to help defend us?”

It felt like Isla had been punched in the stomach.

“What did you just say?” Ameera didn’t repeat herself, only grinned, and Isla was glad for it. She didn’t want it spoken aloud here again.

Suddenly, a hand brushed against her shoulder.

Isla whirled around to find Eli had rejoined their party. She hoped to the Goddess he hadn’t heard anything.

The male general took in their two expressions—Isla’s hard as stone and Ameera’s smug as could be. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Ameera answered. “Isla was just telling me how excited she is to get out in the field.”

Eli’s face seemed to brighten, and Isla wasn’t sure which of her commanding officers she wanted to dump her wine on.

“I’ll leave you two to talk strategy.” Ameera took a step forward and tilted her head down to Isla. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in Deimos, Warrior,” she offered and then leaned in ever so slightly just before she walked away, her voice so soft—only for her—and flecked with a taunt. “Or would you prefer queen?”

CHAPTER 22

Isla had taken up Eli on his offer, and on her final night before departing for Deimos, there had been a party in her honor.

It was a small gathering including her family, Adrien, the Imperial Luna—and Alpha—some of her instructors, fellow trainees of Io, and their mates. For it, they’d all gone out to a nice restaurant on the Golden Avenue, a strip of the finest shops and eateries in the Imperial City. In all of Io, really. It was a nice cool down for Isla, a moment to catch her breath and be with those she loved after the whirlwind that had been the past few weeks.

Unlike the lull leading up to her lumerosi ceremony, once Isla had received her warrior mark and was initiated into the ranks as an active member, she barely had time to even tie her shoes.

She’d attended more meetings than she ever had in her life—from those pertaining to actual battle strategy to those speaking of how she was supposed to behave as a “pack outsider” and “guest” while in another territory. She’d been fitted for her uniform, armor, and other sets of day clothes—shirts and jackets and pants—all bearing the same embroidered crest. She’d selected her weapon of choice and watched her sword be forged—even helping hammer down some of the molten metal—before being whisked off to her next to-do.

It was overwhelming at times but exciting, so incredibly exciting. And it also proved to be a great distraction from the frustrations of her dead-end research, the still persistent nightmares, and the sheer aggravation over everything that had happened at the gallery. Over Ameera’s words. Over her knowledge of things.

After the female general had made her final taunt, Eli—or General Social Climber—had managed to distract Isla just long enough for Ameera to become the wind that blew through the open glass doors at the back of the room. No matter where Isla had turned, no matter where she stalked, she couldn’t find that crown of black hair anywhere.

Since then, Isla had gone through the feelings of being naked and exposed. She’d gone through all the anger of one of her greatest secrets being known by a woman she’d known for all of five sentences. And she’d gone through all the questions as to how she’d found out.

There were only two viable options, given that she hadn’t been at the feast or in Callisto: option one, Ameera’s own father, but Ezekiel seemed adamant to keep Isla’s existence under wraps. Which left Kai…but he had never mentioned his beta’s daughter once.

And that made her wonder if it had been intentional.

Ameera and Kai were around the same age, with Kai maybe a year older. If they’d grown up as close as she and Adrien had, if, unlike she and Adrien, things had become more than platonic, then maybe Ameera was his…

No.

No, Isla wouldn’t bring up the theory again.

“I remember when she beat the shit out of Vlad from year five because he’d taken that Cobaker kid’s lunch. He went home with a broken nose.”

Isla snapped her eyes up from her half-eaten plate of chicken to Sebastian cackling across the table from her. He had one of his arms slung around the back of the chair of his “plus-one” for the night—a woman named Wren who worked at one of the city’s boutiques. She almost seemed too sweet for him.

Sebastian had been telling a story about her, and Isla smiled, fond of the memory. “All you asshats did was watch, and Cobaker needed help. Vlad was eating him alive. His left hook was horrendous.” Then again, they were eleven.

“And right hook and jab,” Adrien offered from beside her, and Isla felt herself glow inside just to hear his voice. They hadn’t technically talked about Kai—or Cora—at all since the ravine. And maybe avoidance wasn’t the best practice, but she was just happy to have her friend. “And his fighting stance was pretty shit, too.”

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