“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “Shit happens. It’s not like we’re mates or anything. He could find someone else.”
Kitty chuckles, a sweet blush on her cheeks as she hides her smile behind her hand.
“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, I just don’t think that’s something you have to worry about.”
I’m about to tell her the only thing I have to worry about is not draining him by accident, when a chorus of meowing strikes up behind us.
“Meoooow!”
“Meeeow!”
“Hey, Crescents!”
Kitty and I both whirl, growling and hissing respectively.
There are a few Blackclaw wolves lounging on the grass patch at the edge of the courtyard, and they start to howl in return.
“Fuck off!” we shout in unison, but they only howl louder.
“Ignore them,” Kitty mutters.
I turn on my heel, prepared to do just that, when I smack head-first into Dame’s chest.
“Oof.” I groan as the wind is knocked out of me.
“Damn,” he mutters. “My bad.”
His hands settle on my shoulders to keep me from toppling over, and I cringe, feeling like I’ve just run into a brick wall. But he doesn’t skip a beat as he shouts at the Blackclaws, “Keep it up, and I’ll give you something to howl about!”
“Is that a challenge?” one of them calls back.
Dame spreads his arms in open invitation.
“It is if you declare one!”
The Blacklaw pack quiets, no longer confident in their chances, and they all grumble as they turn to move in the opposite direction.
“What the fuck is their problem?” I ask, watching as they scramble up and over the little green hill on the far side of the courtyard. A few of the faeries hurry to get out of their way as they trample over the grass.
“They’re just trying to get us riled up,” Dame says. “They think we’re dumb enough to pick a fight during an open inquiry.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re assholes,” Kitty answers.
Dame elaborates.
“Let’s just say the Inquisition isn’t our biggest fan. If we’re even an inch out of regulation, they’ll bring us up on sanctions.”
“Yeah, especially after what happened last year…” Kitty adds.
“What happened last year?”
Dame is quick to pass Kitty a stern glare, and I know she sees it; she’s too observant not to, but she’s not particularly fond of listening to her older brother, regardless of his rank. Or perhaps, in spite of.
“What,” she shrugs. “Iris is with Elliot, it’s fine.”
