“How do you do that?” she whispered, scanning the underside of his feathers.
“Do what? Be so charming? Look so handsome? Fuck so proficiently?“
Cassandra huffed out a quiet laugh, running a thumb over his plush lips. “My arrogant Prince. No, actually, I was talking about your wings. How do you activate the camouflage?”
Tristan, seated on a barrel with Cassandra in his lap, sat up a bit straighter. “Actually, you might be able to do it, too.” He hesitated, brows furrowing. “Ione inherited my Ghostwalker abilities. You may have as well.”
“Really?” Cassandra straightened, lit up by excited curiosity. “And you don’t have to tiptoe around the subject of Ione, Tristan. I understand how much she means to you. But I’m your future. You told me that once. I believe you.”
He kissed her temple. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Never forget it.”
He pinched her side, making her yelp, before he began caressing her wings, which were tucked tightly against her back. She let out a breathy little moan. “Whatever you’re doing back there, please don’t ever stop.”
“I’m trying to bring your awareness to each one of your feathers. You need to command each individual one in order to activate the camouflage.”
“Dear wing feathers, please help me win the most epic game of hide-and-seek ever.”
Tristan laughed. “Something like that. It’s more like you need to believe it’s possible. Give them a little shake and let’s see what happens.”
Cassandra did as he’d asked, half her feathers rattling and half remaining motionless. Her wings looked moth-eaten, covered in tiny holes.
“Shake it off, then do it again. Close your eyes and concentrate. Feel each feather.”
She cracked her neck and shook out her feathers, managed to get a few more to activate.
“Not bad for a novice,” Tristan said. “But you’ll need far more practice before you can fully hide yourself. I’ll still need to carry you into World’s End.”
“Oh, darn.”
He chuckled, then pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I’d carry you everywhere, Cass.”
She kissed him back, then peeked through his feathers, resuming her watch on the tavern entrance.
A few moments later, Wormwood sauntered up to Ronin and Tristan scooped her up.
“Show’s about to begin.”
“I’ma bit surprised you finally took me up on my offer,” Wormwood said, dragging dishwater brown eyes across Ronin’s tattooed, muscled forearms. He’d purposefully left them on display tonight beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white tunic.
Wormwood handed Ronin a silver goblet with creamy mist leaking over the rim. “It’s called a Null & Void. House special.It’s not quite Delirium, but still strong enough to make you shed your inhibitions.”
Wormwood winked, slurping down a big, smoky gulp. Ronin took a small sip, then coughed.
The shit tasted like rubbing alcohol. Nothing like the pleasantly sour funk of Delirium. Creator, what he wouldn’t give for one right now. To sink into temporary oblivion and forget about everything and everyone.
The tavern’s main room overflowed with rowdy, hulking Brethren. They were crammed together at small, round tables, stacked three deep at the bar, and occupied every square inch of gilded wall.
The promise of leering at a half-naked Mireille drew quite a crowd.
And Ronin wanted to claw every single one of their eyes out before she even took the stage.
“Whydidyou take me up on my offer?” Wormwood asked, trailing a sharp nail down Ronin’s shoulder and across his biceps.
Ronin vented an easy laugh. “Don’t play dumb with me, Remy.” Wormwood’s pupils dilated as Ronin leaned in closer. “I know you’ve heard the rumors. About Cassandra’s training? There’s no way she’s going to win. I’ve come to request a place among the Brethren.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And to say I’m willing to throw the fight if he’ll accept me.”
“Well,” Wormwood said, taking another sip of his cocktail and scooting his chair close enough that his thigh brushed Ronin’s, “we’ll see, won’t we?”
