Page 70 of Mate of a Monster

“I’m not triggered.”

“You sound kind of triggered,” Sinner pipes up.

“No one asked you,” I dismiss, keeping my attention on Creed.

Sure, the place is big enough to house a fucking small village, but I’m not stupid enough to pretend that them both being under the same roof isn’t reckless. Especially since Haide has somehow managed to win over the majority of Rathe with her flood saving. That still doesn’t tell me what I want to know, though.

“Why Crowsnest?”

“Man.” Sinner takes a swig of his drink. “I haven’t been back there in years.”

Since around the time Villaina, aka London, went full dark, no doubt.

Creed doesn’t answer, and my nails scrape against the table. “Tell me.”

“First tell me, are you mad that I moved her without your permission, or are you mad her scent is no longer right under your nose?” he asks, tone flat.

“Fuck you,” I seethe, feeling a strange heat rise along my cheeks. I spin away from him before he can call me out.

“Knight.” I set my glass down harder than I mean to. “What are we doing about Haide?”

Knight reaches for the bread at the center of the table, tearing a piece off and chewing in a manner so slow it could only be purposeful. London laughs from the far end of the room, and Knight’s eyes cut toward where she and Silver are leaning over an old scroll. He waits. Watches her turn back to the scroll before he shifts in his chair, leaning toward me with his forearms on the table.

“Why?” He asks through gritted teeth. “She bother you that much?”

Fucking brothers. “She’s an exile on royal grounds, with pet dragons the size of fucking war barges camped outside our walls. That is a problem, Knight. Not a feeling.”

He leans back, something unreadable settling across his face. He doesn’t look convinced. He doesn’t look anything, really, which is somehow worse. “She saved the academy.”

“She also broke out of a holding chamber and made Arabella look like foolish in front of the full court.”

Knight’s lip twitches like his drink has soured. “Arabella managed that herself.”

I don’t have a clean answer for that, so I don’t give him one. I drag a hand down my jaw instead, fresh stubble catching rough against my palm. The ache is back. Dull and low, sitting behind my sternum.

“Haide is temperamental.”

“Then she’ll fit right in,” Creed answers.

That’s it. My hands slam down onto the table as I stand.

“What the fuck is this?” I rage. “Fit in? She is a fucking exile! She is breaking decree just by being here and let’s not forget you guys are the ones who helped me see that!” I snap back. “Every second she’s inside these walls, we’re playing with fucking fire—literally. Something is off here.”

“She’s inside you.” Knight’s words are not a question, and my brows snap together.

The ache behind my ribs deepens, spreading outward in a slow crawl that I can’t reason away no matter how many practical concerns I stack on top of it. The mask. The garden. The way the rot stopped when I touched the ground where it melted. I’ve been filing each of those things away in some locked room in the back of my mind, and the room is getting full.

Knight’s still watching me.

“She’s not.” The lie is like acid on my tongue. “The problem is we have no fucking clue why that menace came back—”

Everything becomes crystal clear.

The reason she came back.

Why Creed put her as far from me as he could while still keeping her close.

It takes every ounce of willpower not to throw myself across the table to strangle him.