A piercing cry split the air, sharp enough to rattle the windows. I wrenched my hands from his, snatching the kettle from the stove.
“I trust you.”His tone was deceptively mild as he drifted back to my side.“It’s everyone else I don’t trust. I will not risk you in any way.”
I passed him a cup, chamomile rising in pale ribbons between us. The scent made my head swim.
“I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”The tea burned down my throat.“I don’t need to justify that I’m not some fragile kitten.” I didn’t let him see the part of me that feared I might be exactly that.
He cradled his mug in hands far too large for its porcelain handle.“I’m sorry.”
Footsteps struck the porch, voices, muffled by the door, before knuckles rasped across the wood. His eyes moved toward the sound while he pushed his untouched cup into my hands, fingers brushing mine in a fleeting promise.
“That was the only meeting you weren’t a part of,” he said, already moving for the door.“And it will be the last. On my heart.”
On my heart, our way of saying we promise for eternity.
Though as I stood in the kitchen, the air smelling of honey and deception—I knew, bone-deep, that I didn’t believe a word my brother just said.
“Ford?”
Every head turned as he hovered in the doorway, posture all wrong, eyes darting like he’d forgotten where he was.
My voice snapped his attention, though his stare still ricocheted around us, restless.“You okay?”
His mouth parted, brows shooting up. For a heartbeat, he just stared at us staring at him. Then his hands dragged down the front of his shirt as if that could smooth out the confusion.
“Am I okay?” He stood taller, his laugh a split sound.“Yeah!” With crossed arms, he leaned into the frame, missing it by a mile. A rasp cleared from his throat as he straightened again. “Why, what’s up?”
As if he hadn’t just come barreling in like he’d sprinted the whole way here. As if he wasn’t late, breathless and wild-eyed.
“Well, for starters—”Callum’s voice slid in as he emerged from the other room, papers in hand, attention half elsewhere.“You’re breathing louder than Verena after combat training.”
Ford snorted. Callum looked up long enough to throw me a wink.
He was rewarded with the gesture I reserved for family, obscene enough to sting, affectionate enough to keep.
Duke trailed in behind him, his broad shadow stretching across the floorboards.
I nudged the chair beside me, motioning for Ford. And just like that, our familiar alignment snapped back into place. Callum at the head of the table. Duke on his right. Rook beside him. Me on the left, with Ford at my side, where he always was. Gus, Rook’s top recruit, sat in the empty seat beside Ford, fiddling his newest collectable: a silver bird feather. He brushed it across his cheek as if it were a lover’s touch.
Everyone else? They could sit wherever the hel they wanted.
Rook looked a little rattled and I gave him small smile, meant to settle. It took a moment, but he managed to mirror mine enough to show it had worked.
Ford slid into the chair, still catching his breath, words tumbling out before his lungs had properly recovered.“I was delayed at home and had to sprint. Guards were everywhere,actualguards, not the half-dead recruits they usually dump on perimeter duty. Which is ridiculous, right? Lowest rank possible, you’d think they wouldn’t give a shit.”
No one so much as blinked. That didn’t stop him.
His fingers twisted together, restless, as he kept rambling. “Anyway, I tried to jump the fence. Fell face-first ten feet down.”
The laugh ripped out of me before I could stop it, sharp and loud. Serves him right for snorting at Callum’s jab.
Callum didn’t so much as twitch, just cleared his throat and slid papers down the line, as methodical as ever.
I leaned back, kicking my boots onto the table, and crossed my ankles.“So that explains the mud.”My hand reached for an apple, crunching into it, juice running down my chin as I gestured with the fruit, pointing it straight at Ford.“And the blood?”
Red streaks marred his cheek, his collar, the shoulder of his shirt.
“Gods, mother f—”He stumbled to his feet in search of a reflection.
