“You finally lost a fight.”
“I did not lose a bloody fight,” Drake snapped. Damn it. Patience was one thing in the face of the flaming carnivorous flower, but another thing entirely with his brothers.
Knight’s gaze flicked over him again. “Mm.”
Drake’s eye twitched. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Knight replied evenly, “that from where I’m standing, it looks remarkably like you did.”
“I was not fighting her.”
“Then that makes it worse.”
“Enough prattle and let me out.”
“I don’t think so.”
Hell did the shite say? “What the devil do you mean ‘I don’t think so?’”
Knight crossed his arms. “You were outfoxed by a girl. Should you self-reflect?”
“I can bloody well do that outside.” Damn arse. “Besides, she didn’t outfox me. I knew the keys were in the lock, I just never believed she’d concoct such an act. A minor tactical oversight.”
Disapproval twitched Knight’s face. “Those get you killed.”
“Fine, I made a mistake,” Drake admitted. “Are you going to open the door or not?”
“No.”
“Knight.”
His brother swept up the keys. “Oh, look,” he drawled flatly. “The mighty Drake Fury, undone by his own stupidity. Truly, a day for the family records. Let me not tarry to share the news.”
“Knight,” Drake warned, gripping the bars so hard his knuckles protested. “Open the damned door.”
“Hmm,” Knight mused. “Still no.”
“I swear by all that is unholy—”
“Threats?” Knight cut in, raising a brow. “From your position? Have some pride, brother.”
Drake’s jaw clenched so tightly it might crack. “Fine. You want something?” He couldn’t believe he was about to say this. “Let me out and I’ll take your chores for the rest of the month.”
“What chores?”
Drake hesitated. “You know. Chores. Cooking stew. That stuff. Whatever you want.”
Knight stared at him with dead, unblinking judgement. “I’ve never considered cooking a chore.”
“Fine. Not stew.” Drake dragged a hand through his hair. “Something else, then.”
His brother said nothing for a moment, letting the silence stretch. “What else?”
“I don’t know,” Drake snapped impatiently. Knight knew damn well the longer he stayed locked in this damn cell, the shorter his temper grew. “Name something.”
“How about you tell me something?” Knight said, watching him closely. “Something like why were you in your dungeon with the flower shop girl in the first place?”
Knight recognized Violet?
