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The door shut behind me and I strode toward the stairs, replaying the events in the room over and over in my mind.
Had I actually called Tye my mate? And if Jaiel hadn't interrupted, would we have …
Fuck!!
Thankfully, Tye's potion seemed to be fairly effective — at least at numbing it from his side.
But still — I couldn't ignore the strange pull I continuously felt to both men in that room.
Why was everything about this mission so damn complicated?
I stopped at a mirror near the stairway and winced at my disheveled state.
I hadn't planned to sleep, so I'd done nothing to prevent my hair from becoming a tangled mess as it dried. The result was a half-fluffy, half-smashed disaster.
Groaning, I pinched my cheeks, bit my lips, and threw my hair into a quick braid. Then I pasted on an excited smile as though a thousand insane things hadn't just happened and nodded to myself.
It would have to do.
We'd get some food and drink and talk with Alpha Blackwood about this damn bond. Then we'd send a message to Frexin, and I'd get back on track with the mission — alone.
Chapter 49
Kaiya
Climbing the stairs, I pressed my hand into the stone wall like I'd seen Faera do.
The loud grinding noise made me wince, but sure enough, the wall opened to the roar of the festival.
I stepped out into the chaos, and my jaw dropped as all memories of the fiasco downstairs were silenced.
Beautiful fabrics now draped from the ceiling, dozens of children swarmed games set up against the far wall, and hundreds of people laughed and bumped glasses of ale together as a band played a lively tune.
It was chaos — yet somehow more breathtaking than any of the events back in the Capital.
Letting out a breath, I stepped toward the crowd … and the commotion suddenly stopped.
Literally. Everything went silent and still within seconds.
What in the seven hells? Could they somehow know what had happened?
Eyes wide, and cheeks burning, I lifted a hand and waved it awkwardly. "Uh — hello."
Silence.
Oh, gods! They weren't even looking at me, were they?
Embarrassment warred with concern as I turned to see a very tall, slim man wearing a large, wild fur cape. He had long brown hair and a day-old-looking gash down the left side of his face. More fresh claw marks covered his arms, as well as dozens of white scars.
He turned toward me, bright yellow eyes cold as they met mine.
"Japhire," someone from the group nearest me said. "It's great to see your pack attending the festival. Every year we miss having …"
The voice trailed off as something dark twisted in those yellow eyes. I forced my face to stay blank. Every instinct I had said Japhire was bad news.
"And this must be our new … visitor," he said without taking his eyes off me, voice low and melodic — each word drawn out for emphasis as he slowly stepped closer to me.
I kept my face serene and dipped my head into the perfect "not a threat" pose.
