I shut the old tome. The pages folded in on one another, and the worn hardcover closed with athunk.Sliding the book at the end of the table where I sat, I lined the spine up precisely with the table’s edge.
31
Graysen
Asoft meow beside my armchair drew my gaze to Flossie, clearly put-out that I’d claimed her favorite spot by the fire. Her ginger tail flicked as she voiced her complaint again. I clicked my fingers in invitation, and she jumped onto my lap, pressing into my touch as I ran a hand down her spine. She stretched up to nudge her silken head beneath my chin, purring as she kneaded at my chest.
While I petted Flossie, Jett continued to mess with his dagger, and Penn and Kenton vanished into the tall rows of books in search of anything useful on wyrms.
With our father and aunt away, Ferne fielded questions from the Head Housekeeper, Butler, and Chef, listening to their messages with VoiceOver, before tapping out replies on her phone’s braille keyboard.
The soft ping of an incoming message sent her reaching for the thin cord around her neck. She slipped a bud into her ear. I watched, curiosity rising, as she toyed with a lock of hair,brushing it over her lips while her cheeks warmed and she fought back a smile.
My nostrils flared.
I godsdamned knew who had messaged. Ezra Qillisan.
But could I do anything about it? Fuck, no. Ferne continually reminded me, she was sixteen and old enough to be dating boys.
Across from Ferne, Caidan was having his own drama. He’d propped his elbows on the table, face hidden behind his broad hands. I heard the long string of curses muttered as his phone continued to buzz with an onslaught of messages. With an annoyed,“Dammit,”he snatched it up, his fingers flying over the screen.
Jett braced his boots on the edge of the table and tipped his chair back onto two legs. He rolled his eyes while tucking his dagger away into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Your harem giving you a hard time?”
Caidan paused long enough to flip him off before continuing to type his message. My brother never lacked attention or company. He enjoyed having fun with pretty girls who did all the chasing before they fell into crushing disappointment when someone shinier and new came along. It got to a point I no longer bothered remembering their names when he introduced us to them. I suspected Caidan didn’t either.
“I forgot I was supposed to take Sarnia out tonight.”
Jett’s chair slammed back onto all four legs. He sat up straight, astounded. “Sarnia? Sarnia Reska?”
Caidan rubbed his hand over a tight jawline while frowning at his phone and replied off-handedly. “Yeah, she’s pretty pissed.”
Jett stood up so suddenly that he tipped his chair over. Leaning over the table, he smacked the polished wood with his palm. “I’ve been asking Sarnia for over a year for a date, you asshole!”
We all knew that Jett had a thing for Sirro’s personal assistant. He usually found a way to be the one to direct any dealings we had on the Horned God’s behalf to Sarnia, simply to flirt with her.
Caidan glanced up from his phone with a cocky smirk. “Sarnia likesmen, little brother.”
“Fuck you,” Jett snarled. He spun away, cursing as he hauled the chair he’d knocked over upright, and while my youngest brother’s back was turned, Caidan flashed a sly grin my way and winked. The fucker was messing with him. He just couldn’t help himself, stirring up shit.
Jett stormed down a long aisle of books to regain a hold of his anger and, I suspected, come up with a plan to get Caidan back.
Relaxing in my chair, I tried to glimpse Caidan’s phone to see if he really was talking to Sarnia, or someone else. I had the strangest sensation as something sour tripped across my tongue when he darted a swift, uneasy glance at me. Guilt shadowed the stiff lines in his features as he hunched over his phone. I had an unsettling suspicion of who might be harassing him with the slew of messages—Evelene Wychthorn. And in that case, he’d never have saved her true name in her contacts; she’d have some fake name.
Until Caidan had confessed, I had no idea my younger brother had even been acquainted with Evvie. I understood why he kept silent about it. He’d have been tied to the whipping post should it be discovered he was friends with Evelene, hells, with any member of the Wychthorn family.
Their friendship had been forged the same night Nelle and I had signed the Alverac. I had my own memories of that night, how I’d signed my name in blood to ancient parchment, and afterward, fueled with anger and guilt, I’d fought Zielenski, both of us trading blows and fighting our own demons in the pits below Ascendria, andthen…
As I sat in the library, rubbing behind Flossie’s ear, pondering my younger brother and what he was up to, my wrists burned with memories of darkness and suffering.
Caidan tossed his phone aside and reached for a nest of wires spilling out of a small black device like strings of intestines. Beside his electrical toolkit was a mottled-green stone that emitted a low hum of magic.
“What are you working on?” I asked, curious. Caidan was always pulling apart House Simonis devices and modifying them to make them run more efficiently or changing their purpose altogether. He’d gone and collected his kit as soon as I’d shared Nelle’s news about Silas Boon and the Children of the Harbinger. And in between fielding phone calls and researching wyrms, he tinkered with whatever the hells this was going to be.
He squinted, concentrating on stripping back the plastic coating of a coil of electric wiring. “Now that we have an army of dead warriors that canswift, it’d be good if I could figure out a way to create ananti-swiftingdevice we can carry on us.”
My brows shot up. “You can do that?”
He shrugged, shooting me a grin. “Dunno. But it’ll be fun working on it in the meantime.”
