My heart plummets. There are so many threads to follow here, so many dangers. But one terrifies me more than the rest. "Lo. Three of you are in their territory. In their fold."
"We were young when we arrived at the Dueling Estate. The Sages provide housing for some duelers. It wouldn't seem strange that we went home on weekends." His smile is sad, resigned. "Besides, we're too popular now. Hurting us would hurt their image."
"That's not protection, Arlo. That's leverage." I press a hand to my forehead. "Gods, I hate this. All of it."
"Just be careful what you say around the visitors. The Council is more vigilant than I've ever seen them."
I think of the hunters in the alley. The Everlasting branded into their skin. I keep my face neutral. The lights flicker. A wave of discomfort floods through the bond—not mine. Footsteps in the hallway. We both turn toward the door. I realize too late that I never locked it.
"I have to go." Arlo snatches his cloak and moves toward the large mirror at the back of the room.
I rush to him, pull him into one last embrace as he swings the mirror open.
"Please be careful."
"You be careful." He grabs my face, presses a hard kiss to my forehead and slips into the darkness beyond.
The mirror swings shut behind him. The mirror hasn't finished closing before the door bursts open behind me. I spin, heart in my throat. Malachi fills the doorway.
His eyes sweep the room, land on the mirror, then snap to me. He steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him, the lock clicking into place. The look on his face makes my breath catch. Gone is the man who walked with me under the oaks, speaking of bonded mates and ancient words. This is the warrior. The Rook. Every line of him is coiled tight, dangerous.
"Did something happen?" I whisper.
His eyes narrow on my face. Even knowing he'd never hurt me, I feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. I've seen him angry before. This is different.
It takes me an embarrassing moment to identify what I'm feeling through the bond. Not his anger, though that's there too. Jealousy. Sharp and primal, clawing at the inside of my ribs.
I square my shoulders. "Mal. Did something happen? Outside?"
"No." The word is clipped. Final. His voice is so low and controlled it raises the hair on my arms.
The air between us crackles. I can feel the tension in my teeth. "Then what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you." His voice drops. "As usual."
The intensity of his stare makes it hard to think. "How did you find me?"
"Your friend told me you were in a private room."
The way he spits the word tells me what he thought I was doing in here. My pulse kicks up.
"And you thought interrupting me was a good idea?"
"No." He shakes his head, pushing off the door, advancing toward me with slow, deliberate steps. "I knew it was a terrible idea. Probably my worst yet."
My heart pounds harder with each step he takes. "But you did it anyway."
"Yes."
"Why?"
I step back. He keeps coming. I step back again, and again, until my spine meets the wall.
His eyes darken. "It's my turn to ask questions."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"This need I feel through the bond." His voice is rough. "Is it for the person who just disappeared through that door?"
