Pyre was studying her reflection, his signature smile playing on his lips, one pointed canine exposed. He adjusted the collar of his golden silk robe and then the angle of his gaudy top hat. “Like what you see?”
She glared at the vain creature, wishing he would burst into flames. She didn’t have time for this. Her head hurt, and, from the pounding of her temples, she was well on her way to a migraine. “You didn’t answer my question. What do you want? Why go to such theatrics to get me here? I’m not at your beck and call, Pyre. I’m not a dog.”
“Aren’t you?”
His words set off her anger. Her fingers closed around the dagger at her waist, and before she consciously knew what she was doing, the blade was already out of her hand. Pyre jerked as the weapon slammed into his gaudy mirror, causing a large, ugly crack to travel through the glass and tear his reflection in two. Maybe he’d think twice the next time he knocked her out and left her with weapons.
She smirked when a cool, steel edge pressed against her throat. She’d known they were not alone—Tempest had managed to flush out the Jester’s protector. A hand seized her braid and yanked it before her new assailant gripped her right wrist painfully, pulling it behind her back. She grimaced but forced an ugly smile. One point for her, zero for the knave gaping at her from a broken mirror.
The Jester’s earlier shock had disappeared, replaced by a wry smile. He stepped to the side and leaned closer to the mirror, continuing to recheck his appearance like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“Let her go, Brine,” he said casually. “Our Hound friend is no threat to me.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Tempest murmured. She felt pretty murderous at the moment. He brought that out in her.
“Have it your way,” he retorted. “She’s not a threat—for now.”
For now. That gave her a bit of satisfaction. It was important that the Jester knew she could be a threat.
A snarl followed by a low whistle of breath heated the nape of Tempest’s neck. She shivered despite her resolve to show no weakness.
Brine cursed under his breath before straightening up. “She would have killed you if she hadn’t missed.”
At this, Tempest burst out laughing and twitched against Brine’s grip before she could stop herself. The nails on his hand began transforming into wickedly dangerous wolf claws in response. Winter’s bite, that was creepy.
He growled into her ear. “What’s so funny, dog?”
“Oh, nothing,” Tempest replied, sobering. “It’s just that—you honestly think I missed?” She caught Pyre’s eye. He wasn’t amused by her outburst so much as he was aware it was warranted. Tempest frowned. Why did she know that? She hated that she could read the tiny permutations of his expression. “Trust me,” she continued, “if I wanted the Jester dead, he would be.”
“And on that cheerful note, release her,” Pyre said, repeating his previous order. “And leave us. Like she’s said, if she really wanted to kill me, she’d have planted that dagger in my back.”
The blade lingered at her throat for a few seconds longer and then disappeared. Brine squeezed Tempest’s wrist until she was moments away from gasping in agony.
“Mind your manners, mutt,” he whispered in her ear before releasing her in one swift motion.
That was rich, him calling her the mutt. Tempest swallowed the retort forming on her tongue and instead focused on rubbing the feeling back into her twisted wrist. The damn brute. Her wrist would surely bruise by morning.
Show no weakness.
Tempest pushed aside the pain and straightened to confront Pyre properly, who was still fussing over his outfit like a damn lady of court. She made no attempt to hide her distain.
“Don’t give me that look. I spent too much money on these clothes to have a dagger ruin the stitching,” Pyre muttered, inspecting his shoulder critically for non-existent stray fibers along the seam. Both he and Tempest knew damn well her dagger hadn’t touched him. “I need them to look perfect.”
For whom? It was the middle of the night. She shook her head. Temp didn’t want to know who he was entertaining so late or why the outfit mattered so much.
“Why am I here, Pyre?” she asked, impatience dripping from every word.
The Jester finished his inspection and reached for the dagger, pulling it from the mirror. Several shards of glass shattered to the floor. He prowled in her direction, the robe gaping the slightest bit, revealing a sliver of his burnished chest. He paused in front of her and held out the dagger, hilt first, to Tempest. She took it slowly.
Pyre dropped into a mocking bow. “You misplaced this, my lady.”
“Pyre—”
“Relax.” He sighed. “Can’t you indulge in some niceties before we get down to business?”
“Not with you, no.” Every moment she spent in his presence inspired feelings she didn’t quite know what to do with.
He cocked his head to one side, fox ears twitching as if listening for changes in Tempest’s heart rate. Unbidden, she thought of their tumultuous argument in the cabin and how it had led to his fingers trailing along her calves. She blinked. Why in the wicked hell was she thinking about that?
It had been a mistake. A moment of weakness. She gazed blankly at his chest. For both of them.
“Penny for your thoughts, love?”
She flinched, then arched a haughty brow, leaning back in her seat. “You could offer me Destin’s personal fortune and I still wouldn’t tell you what’s on my mind.”
Pyre’s smile slid from his face, and something predatory took its place. “Business it is, then. Do you have any updates from the war council?”
Relieved to finally be talking about something else, Tempest said, “King Destin is sending his sons to act as ambassadors to the giants of Kopal.” She took a moment to recall everything she’d filed away. “Children from the capital are disappearing. He’s blaming the Dark Court.” She eyed Pyre. No expression. He remained impassive, patiently waiting in silence for Tempest to continue. Damn, he was hard to read. She sighed and rolled her neck. “And he ordered me to infiltrate the Talagan rebels and destroy them by any means necessary. It was implied to use my feminine wiles.” She sneered the last word.
The Jester perked up at this. His lips curled into an amused grin, and she found herself resisting the urge to throw another dagger at him.
“I’m sure you didn’t like that very much.”
“How astute of you,” she grumbled.
“Did you protest?”
“Of course not,” Tempest replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s the perfect cover to work with you to unravel the entire mimkia conspiracy. And I’m no fool; to protest Destin’s commands would be a death warrant.”
She pursed her lips, thinking about the blatant touch from the king tonight. He was becoming bolder. What if Destin commanded her into his bed? Her jaw clenched. There was nothing that would entice her to do so. Even the idea of letting him run his hands over her body made Tempest break out in a cold sweat. She flushed scarlet when she realized the kitsune was peering at her strangely.
She coughed. “Was there any information in particular that you were hoping I’d overhear?”