The hair at the nape of her neck rose, and she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.
“A bear!” one of the soldiers cried, trying and failing to get out of the way when the monstrously huge creature bowled through the soldiers like they were toys. The soldiers released her as the bear approached and roared, its huge teeth longer than any of their fingers. Men scattered, their fear almost palpable, but she didn’t move. A smile curled her lips, and she began to chuckle, so relieved to see a familiar face.
“About time you showed up, Briggs.” She coughed, too full of adrenaline to care about the blood that wet her lips. Somehow, she must have hit her face.
Then another dark and furry shape joined Briggs, smaller than the bear but no less intimidating.
A wolf—Brine.
Relief washed over Tempest as the two shifters made quick work of the surrounding soldiers—except Levka—whose cries turned guttural as they either fled or were cut down by vicious teeth and claws.
Goosebumps rippled over her body when Brine released a haunting howl that echoed around them.
“You were almost too late!” Levka barked, his hand touching her shoulder.
Brine gave him a look with his sharp, amber eyes and let out half a snarl. It was a simplistic enough sound that Tempest took to mean, You’re lucky we showed up at all.
She glared at Levka and shook him off. He was part of this too? Tempest struggled to her feet, ignoring his hand as she retrieved her dagger and sword from the cobblestones. Did no one among her family or friends know how to tell the bloody truth?
“Tempest,” Levka began.
She held a hand up. “Don’t.” Her attention turned to the wolf. “Brine!” she said, and the wolf snarled at her. “It’s nice to see you too.” She limped toward the formidable shifter and threw her arms around his powerful shoulders and buried her face in his midnight fur. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He whined and leaned his wolf head against her own. Her fingers sank into his fur, and she breathed in his smoky scent. More soldiers would be coming, she knew, so they had to move. A mammoth nose pressed against her right arm, and she lifted her head to stare into Briggs’s dark-brown bear eyes. She didn’t hesitate to press a kiss to his snout before standing.
“You need to go before more soldiers arrive,” Levka urged.
She rose to her feet and stared at the two shifters. With a sharp nip at her wrist, Brine indicated for Tempest to climb onto the back of Briggs.
“I appreciate what you’ve done but I can’t leave yet,” she said, and Briggs growled and slapped the ground with his huge paw. “I was only coming to relay information. I’ve gained an ally for the Jester.”
Brine pressed closer, his eyes focused on her.
“The Hounds. All of them.”
Briggs’s maw dropped open, revealing all his terrifying teeth.
Her adrenaline began to wane, and it was difficult to fully control her bloody, shaking hands. “I only wish this information to be passed onto the Jester. He has a week to reply.”
Brine dropped his muzzle to the ground as if he was bowing.
“They need to go, now,” Levka gritted out, stalking closer. “We don’t have much time.” He inclined his chin at Briggs. “Make it look good, huh?”
Tempest squeaked when Briggs sliced his claws against Levka’s arms and chest, knocking the man over.
Levka moaned. “Sweet poison, that hurts.”
“Do you make it a habit of yours to get as close to death as you can?” Brine growled, surprising Tempest. She blinked and glanced away from his naked human form.
She grimaced. “But I didn’t actually die, did I? I’m just a little banged up.”
The wolf closed in on her and set his forehead against hers. “He will not like this. I was sent to fetch you.”
Tempest chuckled. “Pyre’s not my keeper, nor has he ever been.”
Brine smirked. “So stubborn. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“Aw, you like me? I knew it.”
“You’re okay,” he huffed, “for a human.”
“Real cute,” Levka groaned. “We need to go, Temp.”
Brine nodded at him. “Get your pup to a healer, Tempest. He looks faint.” He stepped away and she turned her back to him, giving him privacy to shift. “Don’t forget who your enemy is, dog. The city twists its people.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” she said.
“What should I pass on to him?”
Blurrily, she stared at the end of the tunnel leading into Dotae. “That Tempest Madrid brings the Dark Court a pledge of allegiance from the Hounds to fight with you all and take down the menace of the throne.” She paused. “And that I will not be manipulated. I’m not his subordinate, and that I know what he did.”
“Anything else?” Briggs drawled.
“That he was right.” She began to limp toward the city. “War is upon us.”
Thirty-Three
Pyre
He swirled the fire whiskey around the glass tumbler, leaning against the stone balcony railing. The winter wind whipped around him, a haunting melody whistling around the craggy peaks, yet the chill didn’t bother him. An advantage of being a shapeshifter. Pyre’s gaze swept the forest below and moved toward the coast in the direction of Dotae—the direction of his greatest enemy.
Destin.
His lip curled and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Even thinking the degenerate’s name angered him. He tossed back his spirits, the whiskey burning down his throat. One day soon the monster would be dethroned. And dead.
A sharp rap sounded at the door. There was only one person who made a single knock sound angry. Brine.
“Enter,” Pyre said lazily.
Brine’s woody scent hit him first as the wolf approach silently and stood by Pyre’s side. He slid a look in his second’s direction and then turned his attention to the empty tumbler in his hands before once again taking in the breath-taking view. “Things went well, I take it?” he drawled.
“No one is dead.”
Pyre couldn’t help but smile at that. “And our Hound? I suppose she is sulking in her room?”
Brine chuckled. “When has Tempest ever sulked?”
“Tempest?” Pyre said slowly. That was new. He turned toward his friend and slung a hip against the railing. “On a first name basis, are we?”
The wolf huffed. “She has a way of growing on a person.”
“That she does.” He waited a few moments and then sighed when Brine didn’t continue. He had always been a terrible conversationalist. “So… how is she?” Brine cracked his neck and faced Pyre; his expression unreadable. That wasn’t a good sign. Tempest must be really mad at him. Well, angrier than normal. “I take it she isn’t happy with me?”
“You could say that.”
He rolled his eyes. Get information from Brine was like pulling teeth sometimes. “On a scale of slap me to murder me in my sleep—how upset are we talking?”
“Honestly? I think she has hit her breaking point. Where she is normal fire, this time she was ice. A numb sort of rage.”