Page 36 of Revealing Fate

THE CONCLAVE

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE took the wrong woman?”

“Kal? Kal.”

“Santhe, I asked you a question. What do you mean he took the wrong fucking woman?”

Santhe’s eyes flashed. “Mind your tongue, Rask Harless. I’m not one of those hens you can command with a foul mouth.”

Rask’s attention shifted back to Kal. “Kal. What is she talking about? Where’s my sister?”

“Gods above, Rask, let him think for two minutes,” Santhe retorted.

Rask wheeled back to her, finger pointed in warning. “You just told him the woman he brought into Meress is an imposter. What the fuck is there to think about?”

The commotion inside Palaver’s was drawing notice. A man about Kal’s height with sandy hair and downturned eyes pushed up from his seat and approached. “Kaine. Harless. Miss,” he greeted, voice polite but firm. “Perhaps this conversation should be had somewhere more private?”

“Kal, are you even listening?” Rask demanded.

The newcomer reached out and placed a tentative hand on Kal’s shoulder. “Kal, what’s this about an imposter? The Conclave will need to be informed.”

Blood pounded through Kal’s head, drowning the distant voices, burying them beneath the relentless surge.

Thank you. For everything.

“Kalevar!” Rask fisted the neckline of Kal’s shirt. “We need to find this lying bitch and⁠—”

Something in Kal snapped. His hand shot out on instinct and closed around the smaller male’s throat. Rask’s eyes flew wide, but he didn’t release his grip.

“What the fuck, Kal?”

Kal’s lip curled into a snarl. He felt his pupils dilate. Red passed across his visual field. His fingers squeezed, and Rask’s nails dug into the edge of his palm.

Santhe rushed forward but didn’t touch him. “Kal,” she pleaded. “Kalevar, stop.”

His fingers flexed again, and Rask wheezed. Panic crept into his friend’s fair features. Rask’s face was going red. Red like the blood roaring in Kal’s skull.

“Kalevar Kaine. Look at me.”

Kal’s eyes flicked down and met the worried brown gaze of the woman next to him.

“Kal,” Santhe urged, voice soft. “Please. He can’t breathe. Let him go.”

Beneath his grip, Rask flailed, pulling at the hand cutting off his oxygen supply.

A rush of air swept into Kal’s lungs on a sudden inhale, and he felt his pupils constrict in focus. His hand spasmed open and released Rask’s throat. Rask bent forward, hacking.

“The fu—ck,” he coughed.

Kal stepped back and fisted his hand to stop the tremor that rattled his digits. Santhe watched him closely.

You took the wrong woman.

Railah.

Kitty.

The wrong woman.