Chapter 33 · Tempest Siege

The council doors folded inward like tin, and I was already out of my chair.

Splinters skidded down the long table. A torch toppled and rolled and spat silver fire across the stone before it died in the runner rug. Then the smell caught up. Burnt wool. Wet fur. Blood.

Rogues came through the gap. Six of them. Maybe eight. No pack marks on their throats, no collars on their necks — just bare, scarred skin and teeth.

Kaelen still had his blade out in the middle of the floor. He turned halfway and for one stupid second he looked surprised, like a man who lit a match in a hayloft and only now remembered the hay.

"You did this," I said.

He didn't answer me. He answered Torin, who was already between us, already halfway shifted — shoulders wrong, jaw wrong, hands still hands but not for long.

"Nobody has to die tonight," Kaelen said, in that reasonable voice that made me want to break his teeth with the table. "Sign the severance. Step down. The council walks out that door and the rogues stand down."

"You brought rogues into my hall." Torin's voice came out wrecked and low.