House of Shadows (Royal Houses 2)

Which was where she came in. “Because we’re still here.”

Wynter waved her off. “You think you and Prescott matter that much?”

She didn’t know, truthfully. Fordham was enigmatic on a good day, but their relationship meant something. “Yes.”

“Maybe,” Wynter acknowledged.

Aisling shot Arbor a narrowed-eye look. Arbor returned the look with an easy smile, sinking into her lush hip.

“I’ll write to him,” Arbor said. She had already planned to do so, but it seemed prudent to let Wynter think it was her idea.

“Yes,” Wynter said at once. “Use one of my birds to get the word out to him.”

“I’ll have to be careful not to mention you,” she said as if it were a second thought.

“Of course. Make it your own mind. We don’t want him to know that you work for me.”

With. With you.

Though she didn’t correct her. She never did.

“As you wish,” Arbor said. Aisling opened her mouth, likely to protest, and Arbor barreled over whatever she was going to say. “I’ll get with Pres now and figure out how to craft something in the morning once we’ve learned of their disappearance.”

“Thank you, Arbor,” Wynter said, reaching out and taking her hand.

Arbor forced herself not to recoil. Wynter was a means to an end—that was all.

“We all believe in your vision. I’m only your tool.” She bowed her head to the princess.

“Where would I be without you?”

Buried in her own mania, for certain. It had been Arbor’s suggestion to get all of this moving. To use Wynter’s influence to capitalize on the last month of unforgivable grievances against anyone who wasn’t titled. Arbor and Prescott had been all but forgotten in the melee of the trade drying up. They needed support for what they planned to do to right this wrong. Wynter had the influence and was influenceable on her own as well.

“We’ll never find out,” Arbor responded and then backed out of Wynter’s presence.

Her smile was feline as she sauntered down the many corridors, away from that cursed chamber. One arm through wasn’t enough. But it’d kindled the fire in the thousand who had shown up today for the demonstration. Whispers would follow, and many more would join the movement.

Arbor finally reached the York quarters and stepped inside. She pressed her back to the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Prescott stepped out of his adjoining chambers.

“Well?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Is Rafael asleep?” she asked of his latest lover.

He had a long string of men and women who came to his bed.

“It’s Angelique tonight.”

She waved a hand. She didn’t remember when he’d given up with Rafi and moved on. “No matter. Are they asleep?”

“Yes. Long since.”

“Good,” she said and then stepped into his awaiting arms.

Prescott held her close. The way that no one else had ever held her. She pressed her nose into the hollow of his throat and smelled the sex on him. It didn’t bother her as it might have bothered others. It was just what her brother smelled like.

“Does she believe you?” he asked.

She nodded, pulling back from him to stare up into his matching blue eyes. “Kerrigan widened the break in the barrier, and then they fled. We’re to write to them on the morn when we discover them gone.”

“Clever. Your work. Not that incompetent princess, I assume?”

“Obviously.”

“You’re such a genius, sister.”

She beamed at his praise. She brushed a lock of his dark hair from his forehead. He grasped her hand in his and placed a kiss on the top, all gallant and gentlemanly.

“Now, the real work begins.”

14

The Healing

Kerrigan woke slowly, as if she were stuck in mud and trying to pry herself free. Her eyes were crusty, and she had to blink to clear them. Everything was blurry. And hurt. Gods, every inch of her body felt as if it had been beaten into a pulp. The last time she’d felt this, she had been assaulted. But she didn’t remember why she was like this now.

“You’re awake,” a voice said, the figure jumping from where they were seated and reaching for something.

It ended up being a glass of water, which Kerrigan choked down with a small cough. “Thank you.”

She winced as she wiped at her eyes and found Valia hovering over her. Valia was a steward of the Society. Not a full member, but not a citizen either. They worked with Society members for the rest of their days but of their own free will. Kerrigan had almost been one of them. She would have been if she hadn’t had a tribe claim her, if she hadn’t ended up winning the dragon tournament.

“How are you feeling?” Valia asked.

“Sore,” Kerrigan admitted.

“Let me help you sit up.” She eased Kerrigan into a sitting position.

She blinked a few times to right her vision. She realized she was in an unfamiliar bedchamber. “Where am I?”

“Training quarters,” Valia said. “Your things were moved from the House of Dragons while you were gone, and Helly had you brought here for treatment.”