Page 90 of Revealing Fate

“I should have him gelded.”

She gasped, refocusing. “You wouldn’t!”

Kal shrugged. “It’d mellow him out.”

“He’s a bloody menace, mate,” a familiar voice called. Felíne’s heart leapt in startled disbelief. “I’ll help you cut him.”

Devereux Santaire strode into the clearing wearing a lazy grin on his handsome, clean-shaven face. His silver hair had been swept back and tied, several strands falling into his thundercloud eyes. A leather cuirass hugged the lean torso of Adder’s first form, dark trousers sheathed his long legs, and leather boots protected his feet. The first time Felíne met him, she’d been in fear for her life and Kal’s. Ironhide, she’d called him, after his second form’s shaggy, iron-colored coat. Then he’d saved her from the Trade Master’s scales and what promised to be an unfair weighing of her character by Garren, the Trade Master’s brother. She had missed Adder’s casual smiles and jovial manner. It felt ages since she’d last seen him in Cindamar, rather than weeks.

Adder reached them and bowed before her with a formal flourish, a devilish grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “My lady,” he sang, extending a hand. “Your beauty far exceeds my memory’s feeble grasp. Consider me enraptured anew.”

Kal swatted the hand away from her. “Get up, you idiot.”

Adder winked at her as he stood and embraced his friend.

“What are you doing here?”

“Missed you, too, mate,” Adder teased. Then to Felíne, “Kitty, love, I thought you’d keep him out of trouble.”

She cocked a brow. “Have you ever attempted such a thing?”

He grinned wider. “Point made.”

“It would take the gods descending to keep Kalevar Kaine out of trouble,” said a woman Felíne hadn’t noticed and didn’t recognize. She was shorter than Felíne, and slighter, with a long, thin nose and close brown eyes that reminded her of a field mouse. But where a mouse was timid, this woman seemed made of cautious defiance. “And even then, I doubt they’d succeed in tempering their foolhardy creation.”

Kal’s countenance softened on the woman. “Santhe⁠—”

She held up a slender hand. “No. I’ve got words for you, Kal. It’s been hell. Divine hell. All of Meress is in an uproar over your recent stupidity. Saul’s at the end of his rope with the Conclave. A third of the witnesses want your head, a third of them want hers, and the rest can’t decide what’s what. The only thing they agree on is that you botched the trial, and someone has to answer for it. It’s a mess. The only reason the two of you haven’t been dragged off your property is because Saul has the militia’s weight and several members of the Watch to back him, and the man takes an age to make a decision.” She took a labored breath. “That first night, I was concerned for you, but I thought you’d at least attempt to mend things before they began to fester. Now, I can see you’ve completely lost your damned mind.”

Kal allowed Santhe her rant but was not incited by it. “Did you bring my horse because you want me to run?”

The woman tossed up her hands. “No, you dolt. I brought your horse because the poor stablemaster’s had enough of his shitty attitude.” Santhe stuck a finger into Kal’s chest. “And I’ve had enough of yours. It’s time you explained yourself, Kalevar Kaine. Your friends deserve that much if you’ve any plans to keep them.”

Back at the house, after Sig was settled in the corral behind the cabin and placated with a bucket of grain, Kal left his friends in the kitchen and led Felíne to the bedroom. He shut the door behind them.

“Your friend—Santhe?—is unhappy with you.”

Kal sighed. “She has a right to be.”

Felíne sank onto the edge of the mattress. “Because of me.” This secret she’d kept had ramifications reaching beyond the people in direct contact with her. She’d never met Santhe, had no idea how close a friend Kal considered her, and yet Felíne’s lie affected her, too.

“No,” Kal said. “Because of my decisions. My actions led to this.”

Felíne laughed. It was a humorless sound. “You wouldn’t have done any of what you did if it weren’t for me. If I’d told you the truth.”

Fear was an insidious foe. It disguised itself as caution, undermining trust. It wormed through the foundation of a relationship, riddling it with holes, so that when courage finally arrived, it was too late. The whole thing was already primed to collapse.

Kal fell quiet. His silence served as his reply.

Felíne put her head in her hands. The harder she tried to fix things, the more broken they became. “What do I do?”

Kal squatted before her, forearms braced atop his knees. “We,” he corrected. She peeked up at him and found his gaze level with hers. Even now, he offered to wade through the muck and mire with her, though she deserved to trudge it alone.

We, then, she thought with a blossom of gratitude. “What do we do?”

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating, then tentatively said, “We could offer them the truth.”

The truth. That damnable thing. Felíne couldn’t prevent worry clamping around her chest. Kal was the only person outside the walls of Asteros who knew who she was. And the sole reason he guarded her secret was because she meant something to him. Adder was Kal’s closest friend. If he learned the truth, he might safeguard it out of loyalty to Kal. But Santhe? The woman’s disdain was apparent. Felíne knew nothing about her.