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I picked up a rogue potato off the floor and watched him leave. “He had no right to say that,” I said quietly, my voice shaking.
“I can fight my own battles, Anaria.” Raz brushed his lips over my forehead, the musty smell of sweat and horse washing over me. “Though I have to admit, you stir something up inside me when you leap to my defense.”
“You can stir something in the kitchen, if you really want to help.” I headed for the far end of the hall on slightly wobbly knees, where the voices had resumed. “I had no idea Tristan was such an arsehole.”
“He’s not all bad. He’s just…He’s still got some fucked-up ideas from his parents.”
“That’s no excuse. At some point, you have to decide what you believe in yourself, and if you’re a certain age and still saying shite like that, those becomeyourbeliefs, not your parents’.”
“True enough.” Raz scooted one of the escaped potatoes over to me as I gathered them up off the floor and dropped them back in the burlap sack.
“But depending on how they instilled those lessons in you, Anaria, they’re hard to unlearn. Tristan’s not like the rest of us. His father…His father was a right bastard. Tristan’s spent most of his life trying to earn that fucker’s favor, even though everyone knows it’s a waste of his time. When he was offered a chance to win back their family fortunes…fortunes his father lost through bad investments, Tristan believed he’d finally be given some respect. The minute he got everything he ever wanted, he was yanked out of his life and right back into this…conspiracy.”
“Why are you defending him?” I caught up to him. “And what was that…voice thing you did? You made me feel…strange.”
His wicked, wicked smile…Gods, that smile was going to be the end of me. “In a good way, I hope.”
“Definitely in a good way, but…there was a part of me that wanted to…I don’t know, bow down in front of you or something.” I frowned, wondering if I should mention the shadows, but maybe that had been my imagination.
“I’m glad to see I haven’t lost my air of command.” As if he couldn’t help himself, Raz kissed me again a second before he disappeared through the door. “Because we’re sharing a bed tonight, and I can’t wait to get you on your knees like the good girl you are.”
Goosebumps erupted all over me at the look on his beautiful face, then something rustled in the air behind me, a sound too faint for mortal hearing.
Even for my ears, the sound was like leaves in the breeze, but I whirled around, every muscle snapping to attention when a beautiful golden owl soared through the door Tristan had left ajar. Raz swept me behind him, rogue potatoes flying everywhere.
“A fucking shifter from Blackcastle. He must have tracked us here. Anaria,get back behind me.Now.” Raziel was already moving, pulling a sword from his belt like he meant to slice the poor creature in half.
“No, don’t.” I pushed his hand, and the sword, down. “It’s all right. This is…I know who this is.” I watched the owl expertly navigate the hall, avoiding pictures and furniture. “He’s a shifter, but he’s also an…ally.”
At least, I hoped he was.
Torin’s owl shifter lover headed straight for us, his wingspan brushing both sides of the wide hall as he bore down on us. I froze, but all he did was beat his wings hard enough to blow my hair back and alight on my shoulder, then offer me his leg like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“What the fuck, Anaria?” Raz growled, sword still in hand as I untied the cylinder from his yellow leg and unscrewed the cap like I’d seen Torin do.
“It’s a message. We’re supposed to meet the Oracle at the Wynter Palace, whatever that is.” I handed Raziel the tiny message, Tavion, Lucius, and Dane thundering down the hallway as the owl swiveled his head, golden eyes blinking at the three angry shifters approaching.
Feathers brushed my face, and the owl was gone, soaring back down the hall and out through the door, Tristan diving to the ground to avoid a head-on collision.
Raz handed Tavion the note, and his face paled.
“The Wynter Palace? In two days?” Tavion’s lips barely even moved. “That fucking bitch. She knows we’ll never make it.”
6
ANARIA
Even Tristan’s surly temper didn’t ruin dinner.
Nor did he dampen down Lucius’s subdued joy in having his family around him, his blue eyes continually drifting over to Tavion, hope flickering in them like tiny, newborn flames.
The castle’s dining room hadn’t been used in years, according to Lucius, and from the inch of dust on the furniture, I believed him. And yet, tonight was the closest to home I’d ever felt in my life—all of us gathered around the table, the scrape of silverware across fine bone china plates, the occasional clink of glasses as a bawdy toast was made, usually by Dane.
The Mistress would have beaten me for how tough the venison was and how badly I’d overcooked the potatoes, but I’d come up with a respectable meal. I made up a second plate for Lucius, something neither Tavion or Raziel missed, but I wasn’t letting him go hungry.
Not when he was so thin.
He and Tavion were awkward together, not at all what I’d expected, and though Lucius tried so hard—too hard, maybe—Tavion was barely civil. He was cold, almost, and definitely not making much of an effort.
