“Fine,” I mutter, cracking my neck. “She doesn’t hold the same gift, though, if that’s what you’re asking.” It would be. Nosy bastard.
His laugh cackles through the air. “You really had to test that? That girl is fucking chaos. Ain’t nothing calm about that.” He taps ash from a cigarette that isn’t lit. Habit. Tell.
“She’s not a girl.”
He nods in agreement. “She’s a bomb.”
“Then we can all watch her explode.” My eyes flicker with something I’d assume looks like mania. “Because she’s going nowhere.”
He shakes his head, grin deepening. “You know you’re gonna need to send her to Arabella. With whatever magic manifests within her, and if she really is your mate—
“She is.”
“Her Ethos will start to rise within her at some point, and she’s gonna need Arabella to”—his hands wave around the place—“control all that chaos.”
I know he’s right, but the thought of Haide being anywhere near Arabella has the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Not because I give a fuck about the soft little lamb, but because Arabella is basically the fucking princess of the Argents. Since we’ve eradicated the council, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that if we bring any more heat by harming yet another Argent, it’ll just give their people more of a reason to stir.
Bone Room doors swing open with a shove. Without everyone in here, its emptiness feels…just that.
Empty.
Knight sits slouched in his chair, lazy on purpose, all coiled lines and deadpan eyes, but it’s Creed who concerns me. For whatever reason, which I’m no doubt about to hear right now, he hates Haide. His finger taps against the table but his eyes follow me. I love our big brother, but he’s the most like Father. I used to think all his good parts…but recently, I’ve seen a lot of the bad, too.
Knight’s nose scrunches an inch. “Shit, Lege. You smell like burnout.”
“Nice to see you too.”
Creed is going through a mixture of emotions with his eyes alone. First, assessment. The second is annoyance. The third is something like worry, which I hate on him because it means it’s real.
“Sit.”
“I’ll stand.”
He ignores it.
Sinner sprawls into a chair, boots kicking up like he can’t wait for the family drama to spill out of everyone’s mouths. Like we don’t have whole fucking murders happening on our streets.
Sinner points with the cigarette. “Legend’s magic’s acting like a drunk trying to pick up a girl way out of his league.”
Traitor. He winks like he just lit the fuse for fun.
Creed’s mouth flattens. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Recent enough.” I finally take the chair, knowing that I won’t be able to escape this conversation. Brothers. They’re basically extensions of your parents. We can’t escape one another ever.
Knight’s gaze is steady. “Define ‘recent.’”
I roll my shoulders to shift the ache. “Since the Island, I think. Since I got back.”
Creed leans forward. “Your principal powers don’t ‘slip’ unless something knocks it out of you.”
“Thanks for the primer,” I say. The laugh chokes in my throat and comes out a rasp. “I didn’t study.”
Knight’s eyes cut to my face. He inhales, that little flare that means he’s not just smelling with his nose. Bonds. Oaths. The weft we all carry. “You smell wrong.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll take a shower later.”
“Like you’ve been hollowed,” he continues, ignoring my hiss. “Like something is picking bits away.”
