“I would,” she replied.
“Your wife likes anything that involves competition,” Razik said, his gaze still pinned on her. “And she is overly competitive.”
“I don’t think someone can beoverlycompetitive. The purpose behind any sort of competition is to win. It’s in the definition,” she bit back.
“A game of cards is not necessarily a competition,” Razik retorted.
“Then why did they call it that?”
“Wait,” Cethin cut in at the same time Razik muttered, “Fuck.”
Cethin shifted to face Kailia fully. “Where were you when you played cards?”
“I didn’t play cards,” she answered.
The conversation paused when the server approached, two mugs of ale and a glass of wine balanced on her tray. But the moment she was down the stairs, Cethin turned back to Kailia.
“Where were you that you witnessed a card game recently?”
She took a drink of her wine before she said, “A tavern.”
His head whipped to Razik. “You took her to a tavern?”
The male shrugged. “She stabbed someone. More than one, actually.”
“Razik!” she hissed, eyes wide with betrayal.
He leaned forward, pointing a finger at her from across the table. “We had an agreement. You broke it first by telling him we went there.”
“You took her to a godsdamn tavern?” Cethin cut in, so much rage coursing through him. His magic was pressing at him so insistently his veins were taking on a faint grey hue.
Razik noticed, straightening as he recognized the potential threat. His eyes shifted, glowing softly. “Get yourself under control, Sutara.”
“Which tavern?” Cethin demanded instead. But when Razik didn’t answer, he turned back to his wife. “Kailia?”
She shrugged, taking another drink of wine. “Somewhere by the docks. This wine is really good. Do we have this kind at the castle?”
“The godsdamn docks?” It took everything in him not to bellow the words. Actually, it took everything in him not to go across the table and hit the male in the face. “What were you thinking, Greybane?”
“I’m thinking this is probably not the place for this conversation,” he said in a pointed low growl.
“Agreed,” Kailia offered. “You look like you’re about to start a brawl, and I don’t believe that would be very convincing of us, husband. But I wouldn’t be opposed to another brawl.”
He blinked at her, his vision blurred with fury. Coupled with his existing exhaustion, he knew the male was right because he was seconds away from starting that brawl Kailia mentioned.
“Another brawl?” he asked, his tone dangerously low and quiet.
“By Sargon, Lia,” Razik glowered. “The majority of the time we can’t get you to give us straight answers, but with this, you won’t stop running your mouth.”
“By stating I wouldn’t be opposed to a brawl? How is that a problem?” she asked in confusion.
“Finish your godsdamn drinks,” Cethin snarled. “We can’t simply leave, but as soon as we’re done, we’re going somewhere to discuss this.”
The next fifteen minutes seemed to drag on forever, and he knew Razik was taking his time just to be a dick. There was absolutely no reason for him to take fifteen minutes to finish half a mug of ale. He’d been to taverns with him. He knew the male could take down a full mug in less time than it took to fill it.
The moment they were back in their rooms, Cethin rounded on Razik. Darkness swirled as thick tendrils coiled in the male’s direction.
“Why in the fuck would you take her to a godsdamn tavern? And by the docks? When was this?” Cethin demanded.
