Tan plucks the gloves from his hands as he walks, moving calmly to the head of the table. Roarke and Killian take a second longer, Roarke examining the floor to ceiling shelves of books, and Killian assessing the limited exits. I scan the plates of food, spot the one with the biggest portion of gravy-soaked beef, and settle into that chair before the other two can steal it.
Tan waits, not just until everyone is seated, but until we all have our mouths full. He waits, and amidst our chewing, I hear the softest click.
My jaw slows, and I stare at the books.
“Seth,” Roarke warns.
Too late, the books explode from the shelf into a flurry of covers and spines and pages. Roarke shouts, probably my name again, throwing his hand into the air to stop the books mid-flight, and glares at me.
I shrug, swallow my mouthful, and shove another chunk of beef in, then clear the table in an easy jump and land on the same side as the knocking – and the flying books.
“Seconds,” Roarke says.
I don’t care. I’m now against the wall and the only person in the room who won’t be smacked in the head by a book. Killian leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, daring the books to hit him.
One of the shelves, the one at head height, is missing a back. The books were cleverly hiding the places where crossbows rest and the three men are frozen in place.
“They’re not aiming at us,” Killian says.
“I can see that.”
“Their threads are placid, so I ignored them,” he adds.
“They’re here for a reason,” I say.
“They don’t desire blood,” Roarke argues.
“Or Tan understands the way your power works. Am I the only one who sees an ambush in the walls as an issue?”
“Yes,” Killian grunts.
I ignore that, running my finger over each of the crossbows and disintegrating them one by one. The dust blows back into the men’s eyes at the same time as Roarke’s Allure releases the room in a clash of books against every item of furniture, the floor, and the walls.
The men scream, clawing at their faces, blinded by the wood and metal dust.
Tan barely responds – just clears his throat, then chuckles.
“You’re a suspicious man, Seth. At least this time your curiosity hasn’t burned down half my arena.”
“If you know me so well, why have men try to sneak up on us?” I ask.
“Because you are short the one Elorsin destined for the crown.”
I offer an approving nod, fair call.
“Tan, what is it you truly believe about us?” Roarke asks, cutting our brewing argument to an early end.
Now he has to tell the truth – which is not nearly as fun. I vault the table again and have to brush several pieces of paper from my meal before I can settle back down to finish it, while Tan lets his secrets spill.
“I worry what trouble is on your tails. A man needs to be careful. Either the commander is in the trees, and you have something planned, or he has been eliminated – in which case by who? I’m suspicious of both scenarios.”
“You think we killed our brother?” I ask. I would sound shocked, but my mouth is full.
He leans an elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand and rubbing along his jawline. The man has a narrow face, sharp and serious looking, but if you’re not too off-put by the blue skin, you can see worry lines and laugh lines.
“Tell me where he is then?”
“We can tell you he is safe – and that all of this is part of a much bigger plan, if you can trust us?”
“I don’t just distrust you – I distrust every visitor that enters my estate. Since I arrived home, my standing order has been guests straight to the den and crossbows in the wall.”
I glance down at the floor, considering for the first time that some of the blood stains might not be from a simple cut to secure a binding agreement. Appetite gone, I set my fork back on the plate.
“The warden of Tanakan sat in that chair right there when I arrived home,” he says, pointing to where Roarke is sitting. “My estate might have money, which is in my brother’s hands, but he wasn’t here for an audience with my brother.”
The room holds its breath and waits. This man likes to make us wait.
“Well, what did he want?” I demand.
“They have an army, but they lack leaders. He tried to buy my leadership. Then beg. Then bribe. When he turned to threatening, I took his head off.”
Out of all that information Roarke decides to ask, “And you don’t want to be a leader anymore?”
“I’ll never align myself with Lithael,” Tan spits, pushing back from the table and standing.
I mean, I blew the man’s books to pieces, and he laughed at me. We mention Lithael, and he’s murderous.
Killian laughs, meaning he likes the guy’s declaration and the threads that would confirm its sincerity. Tan, who’s spent little time with Killian, glares at him with hot murder in his blue eyes.
“He’s agreeing with you,” I explain, waving off Tan’s reaction.
“We all agree with you. But what we’ve come to ask will involve leadership.” Roarke steeples his fingers and sighs while Killian glares at the hole in the wall where three men were ready to shoot to kill.
“And working against Lithael?” Tan demands, his tone still hot as though he’s going to end this conversation right here if we answer wrong.
I’ve
