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“That we have no choice but to go along with what the Goddess of Fate has decided is right for us.”
“Says the Goddess of Life.” Kaleb smirked at me.
I rolled my eyes.
The air shifted, the light laugh lines on Kaleb’s face drifting away as his smile receded. He sighed through his nose. “Tonight didn’t exactly go as I had planned.”
I gestured to my busted nose, the blood on my face now dried and crusty. “Me either.”
Kaleb chuckled. “You gotta admit, she can throw a punch.”
I teetered my head from side to side, before I replied, “Yeah, okay, I’ll give her that.”
“I was hoping you two would get off to a better start, especially because I—” He took a hesitant pause, further garnishing my attention. “I was thinking of asking her to marry me. But now?” He glanced at the balcony doors, where Ryker and Fallon were conversing in private, their history a tangled mess in deep need of brushing. “I don’t know anymore.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip, recalling the ring I had tucked away, hidden in the bottom drawer of the smaller armoire. The day Arkyn took me back to the cottage to grab a few things, I had grabbed it so that I could keep a part of Kaleb with me. Although I wasn’t exactly Fallon’s biggest fan, the timing of Kaleb’s intended proposal accompanied by the memory of Ezra’s words propelled me forward.
You keep it safe until you can return it,her voice said in my mind.
Like always, Ezra knew things she shouldn’t. I decided to trust her on this.
“There’s something I need to give to you,” I told him.
A short few moments later, I retrieved the thin gold band with the glittering oval sapphire. I turned to Kaleb and handed him the ring. It looked so small, so dainty in his cracked palm.
He stared at it, eyes chock-full of wonder. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Because it’s yours,” I said softly. “It’s your mother’s engagement ring and she wanted you to have it.” Then I told him the story Ezra had shared with me—about his mother.
Von
Clink. Clink.
Clink.
. . . That third clink was new. A second cup. But for who?
“Come on in, Little Bird, don’t be shy,” Folkoln toyed like a cat with a mouse. He sat down in the chair beside me. His usual spot.
Light footsteps sounded from the door, walking towards me.
“Can he hear me?” Fallon asked softly. Curiously.
“He can,” my brother answered.
“But how do you know?”
“Come here.” It was a soft command. His leather jacket crinkled as he raised his arm. “Take my hand and I will show you.”
“Okay,” she answered wearily.
Skin brushed upon skin.
“Good girl,” he praised. “Now, tell yourkingwhat youdidto his mate.”
“Folkoln,” she attested, her voice desperate.
“Now, Little Bird.”
