“She’s yours,” I reassure my brother, pride swelling in my chest not only for him, but for Curio and me too. “She’s ours,” I affirm, as Riall’s gaze intently fixes on mine, his faith in me so absolute that to hear me say so makes it an irrefutable fact.
We aren’t those younglings anymore that Eacon first brought here. We’ve long grown past the traumatized, thrown-away nothings that we were. From bastards to trusted advisors, we’re blades to the kings, and the fae that wrong us now bleed out at our feet. Body by body, we’ve built an impenetrable fortress around our family, one so thick and solid not even our sires can contend with it. Not that they’d ever step far enough from their thrones to realize that.
“We are the Order of Scorpions,” I assert, looking from Riall to Curio. “Auset will realize thatweare where her fate has always been leading. Be patient.”
We stare at one another, the power of the moment thick and validating. Riall and Curio both harden with resolve, spines straightening and jaws clenching with determined strength. I smile, and with a satisfied nod of approval, I’m met with their matching grins.
“Good. Now that we’ve settled that…” I state, striding over to my desk and the two letters that are now my sole focus. “I heard from Kiffin,” I start, turning back to Riall and Curio, missives held carefully in my grip. “The Vulpi have been digging deeper into that issue in the Dawn Court, and they’re asking for our assistance,” I explain as I make my way back over to the sitting area.
I debate claiming my chair again, but my body is still too restless to relax; there’s too much to do.
“From what they can gather, Lord Daeral recently returned from some kind of trip. Being that whoever killed Daeral also eliminated his entire bloodline and all of his servants, the Vulpi are having a hard time pinpointing exactly where he went. However, the ladies are currently working through the lord’s friends and acquaintances, and they’ve requested that we reach out to our contacts in the other realms to see if anyone had contact with the lord before his untimely death. Where he traveled could be unrelated, but we won’t know one way or the other until we’ve tugged on every thread we can,” I explain, and both Riall and Curio nod their agreement.
Curio extends his hand expectantly, and I hand him the two letters.
“If the two of you agree, I’ll reach out to the other realms and see what we can learn.”
“Fine by me,” Riall offers, and Curio grunts his approval as he reads through what the Order of Vulpi sent.
“They think the hunt was unsanctioned,” Curio points out, looking up from the parchment in his hand with a raised brow, his eyes filled with both surprise and concern.
“They do,” I agree, flicking a hand at the empty hearth. A spark flits from the tip of my fingers to the stack of logs, the small ember growing as it begins to consume the kindling layered there.
“You’re getting better at that,” Riall points out with an impressed nod, and I shrug as the fire crackles higher.
“The cast feels like muscle memory now, so there’s that, but the spark is still fragile,” I admit, doing what I can to level the frustration I feel over that fact. “Anyway, Kiffin didn’t come outright and say it in her message, but reading between the lines leads me to think that there’s either a new group of killers readying themselves for a place at the Order table, or something else is going on with this Daeral issue, and we’ve yet to find the right piece that will help us make sense of it. Either way, we need to be careful with how we proceed.”
“It is strange,” Curio states as he continues to study the missives. “If it were a new group wanting a shot at an Order, then why copy the Vulpi’s signature?”
“Maybe that’stheirsignature,” Riall offers. “They copy the rest of us and never establish an original calling card.”
“Fuck,” I sigh, pushing a few wavy strands of my hair back from my face. “I didn’t think of that,” I confess.
“It would be a good way to create some chaos,” Curio agrees.
“It’s also a good way to piss off the other Orders. Anyone coming up would know they need a majority vote to be sanctioned. Otherwise, they’re just asking to be picked off and plundered by the rest of us just as soon as we can get a grasp on who they are,” I point out.
Curio shrugs and goes back to reading, and I go back to steadily pacing, the fire now large enough to provide some welcome heat.
“What’s the other letter?” Riall asks, gesturing to the wax seal that’s hanging from the second missive in Curio’s hands.
I hesitate for a breath, knowing what I’m about to say is going to send Riall into a shit mood, which is the last thing I want to do since we just pulled him out of one. Unfortunately, it can’t be avoided. “The Dusk King was enquiring if we’d be taking on any hunts in the near future,” I answer, and just as I knew it would, Riall’s inner defenses shutter at the first mention of his sire.
“What does that pile of shit want?” Riall growls, and I suddenly feel too fucking tired to take another step. The load on our shoulders has been entirely too heavy for too long, and I think each of us is feeling the wear of that.
I collapse into a chair, considering for the thousandth time just letting Riall finally kill the raping puddle of piss that is the Dusk King, but we all know it will set too many things in motion that could lead to an all-out war between the realms. As tempting as that is on certain shit-infested days, we all know the people will be the ones who suffer the most. None of us are selfish enough to bring that down on any fae’s head, which, some days, can be an overwhelmingly maddening reality.
“He’s not identified a target yet, only inquired about whether we’d be free to discuss it further. I’ll blow him off if you want,” I offer, but Riall’s gaze is already far away.
Curio studies him before looking back over to me, and I can practically hear the silent question glittering in his concerned stare. Will Riall need to drown what’s happening in his mind right now in pix weed, pussy, or pain? On the really bad trips down memory lane, it can take all three.
Surprisingly, it’s Riall who breaks up the silent standoff. “Find out who he wants killed and why. We can decide then if we want to play obedient little assassins or do something to fuck with his plan,” Riall sagely advises, and I give him an impressed nod.
“I’ll do that,” I agree, doing my best not to sound shocked that he isn’t spiraling like I anticipated he would.
He still looks thoughtful, pensive, but whatever it is that he’s pondering, it hasn’t sent him plummeting into the depths of despair, so I’ll take that as a good sign.
“If we hunt, will we take Auset with us?” Curio asks, handing back the letters.
