His desire for her clashed against his terror for her safety, spurred by echoes of Hector’s anguished howl and barbed memories of a tarnished, bloody pearl ring—the cost Ione had paid for his love.
He was falling for an off-limits mortal woman again. People were calling him Prince again.
It was like the past two hundred years hadn’t even happened.
A curtain pulled back in the house in front of him—his neighbor likely wondering who this crazy asshole was, wearing a path in the sidewalk.
Tristan took a deep breath, rustled his feathers, and stalked towards his bungalow, stirring the velvet-green leaves and serene white faces of the moonflowers along his route.
He swung open the wrought-iron gate and took the shallow steps two at a time. He crossed the porch swiftly, not bothering to knock before he entered.
Shrieking laughter bombarded him as he stepped through the foyer and wound around the staircase. A third voice that wasn’t Hella’s and certainly wasn’t Cass’s—he could pick her laugh blindfolded out of a cacophony of thousands—prickled his ears. He padded towards the kitchen at the back of the house, then stopped short as he approached the dining table.
What the fuck was August Lambros’s consort doing here?
High Gods help him, his first instinct was to kick Aneka out. August would be livid if he knew his consort was in Tristan’s house. He might retaliate by attacking Cassandra again.
“Hello?” he said tentatively, hesitant to interrupt their hysterics.
“Tristan!” A broad smile lit up Cass’s face, obliterating the helpless organ in his chest.
She shot out of her chair and bounded towards him with open arms, then stopped herself. He guessed she was just as confused as he was by whatever this thing was between them.
She motioned him towards the table. “Come sit with us,” she said.
Tristan held up his hand. “What are you doing here, Aneka?” He tried to sound neutral, but couldn’t help the bite in his tone.
Aneka didn’t miss it either. The smile fell from her face as she pushed her flaxen sheet of hair behind an ear, uncovering the nasty bruise swelling her eye shut.
He clenched his hands, his fingernails ripping into his palms as he pushed his fists against his thighs. This. This is exactly why he couldn’t stomach these master-consort relationships. Fae males like Lambros, arrogantly drunk on their own inflated sense of importance, had little regard for mortals. Tristan wished he could just end them all and be done with it.
“I came over to check on Cassandra,” Aneka said. Tristan raised an eyebrow at Cass, wondering why she’d shared her true identity with the woman. “She explained to me what you’re trying to do, searching for members of this rebel organization within the colony elite. I want to help.”
“Why? And how?” Tristan asked, taking in Hella for the first time since he’d walked in. Something very close to appreciation was radiating from her golden eyes as she stared at Aneka.
“August is involved in something,” Aneka said. “His sister has cut him off and he’s in a massive amount of debt trying to keep up his flashy lifestyle here in the colonies. He’s been getting visits, always in the middle of the night. And always the same individual. I’ve never seen her, but I’ve heard her voice. It could be the rebels, but I’m not certain.”
“What have they been discussing?” Tristan asked.
Aneka’s hair slipped from behind her ear as she bowed her head. “I can never make out what they’re saying. The female speaks so low and quickly.” She whipped her head up, viciousness sparking in her sole open eye. “But I’ll do whatever I can to take that bastard down. I can get you access to his house, his office. Whatever you need.”
Cassandra reached out and squeezed Aneka’s hand, wearing a matching expression of righteous violence.
Pride and fear battled through Tristan’s chest. Though fear eventually won out.
“Can I speak with you privately for a moment?” Tristan asked Cassandra. He took her hand and ushered her into the backyard, shutting the double doors with a soft click.
He padded through the damp grass and into the shadowed corner of the fence, not wanting to be overheard by either Hella or Aneka. As an added precaution, he raised a wing around Cassandra, hiding them from view. “What’s going on, Cass? Why didn’t you talk to me before you pulled Aneka into this? How do you know you can trust her?”
Her pale blue-gray eyes flashed with indignant hurt. “Did you see her face, Tristan? Why would she have any loyalty towards August when he treats her like that? And what was I supposed to do? She arrived here completely broken, and I just…I had to let her in.”
He cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb along her silken skin, and she released a soft breath at the contact. “How much did you tell her?”
“Everything,” she shrugged, and his chin dropped to his chest. “I also may have promised that if she helps us, we’ll get her somewhere safe—away from him. I’m sure Borea could find her a position at one of the other Temples. As staff, not a Sister. Maybe Meridon, since it’s the furthest from Thalenn.”
“And how are we going to guarantee he doesn’t track her there?” Tristan asked. “You have no idea what these males are like. How territorial they are. Even though he shares her, she’s still his property. His scent is all over her. I could smell it as soon as I entered the house. You may have promised her safety we can’t guarantee.”
“She helped me. When August attacked me last night, she went to fetch you, right? Told you what was happening?”
