Page 70 of Twisted Bonds
I almost choke on my tart. Did Callum just defend Tairyn in some way or was it simply an insult meant for Sunder? Tairyn taps his fingers on the table lightly with a smirk on his lips, no doubt enjoying the show. “In fairness, Callum chose that cell over the much nicer accommodations I offered him.”
Bobble’s eyes cut across the table, disbelief clear. “You wanted to be there?”
“Can we please just have a meal without bickering?” I interject, pulling their attention to me. All four pairs of eyes turn, varying levels of surprise and amusement reflected in their gazes. As the main course is served, our plates are piled high with comfort foods that make my heart ache for home, if only for a moment.
“Tell me. What kind of holidays do the fae have?”
I’m almost surprised to hear myself talk as the chef retreats from the awkward stillness of our table. So finely decorated yet surrounded by animosity. A juxtaposition for sure.
“We celebrate the solstices, but that’s about it.”
“No old men breaking and entering to eat your sweets and leave behind things you don’t need?”
Sunder cocks an eyebrow at me in a befuddled look, and I chuckle. “Santa Claus?”
Tairyn shifts his weight in his seat, and I note that he hasn’t even taken a bite of the food. “They don’t celebrate Christmas or other human holidays here. The Gods would frown greatly on those who choose to worship any others. They tolerate us acknowledging Mother Nature and other natural gods with disdain.”
“You speak like you know them personally.”
He makes a casual shrug with one shoulder. “I made a bid at the Council of Gods once, but I wouldn’t say I know them.”
He says it so casually that I don’t understand the immediate tension around the table from my other mates.
“Bullshit.” Sunder spits. “No one makes a bid in front of The Council, least of all a common fae Soul Shard piece of shit like you.”
Bobble’s back goes straight as Tairyn’s grin turns feral, but Callum cuts in before he pounces. “It’s true. Though, if I remember correctly, they threatened to level the whole realm if he ever showed his face there again. I was there when he opened their answer.”
“Why?” I ask, shocked.
“Because it's the Gods,” Callum replies matter-of-factly, as if that explains everything.
Tairyn, still smirking like the cat that got the cream, leans back in his chair and idly sips his wine.
“Let me get this straight. You waltzed into the Council of Gods, a lowly commoner without even half a soul, with another Shard in chains to demand… what exactly?”
Sunder’s left eye twitches subtly as he says it, and I swallow thickly in my throat as my eyes dart from one man to the next. I don’t know what they’re fighting about, but this room is a powder keg. I pick up a piece of turkey and take a bite, but I can’t even taste it. Still, I nod to myself and mutter about how good it is under my breath.
“Actually, that was before we met. I wasn’t there for the bid itself,” Callum corrects him quietly.
Tairyn sets his cup back on the table before leaning forward, much too intense for the casual tone in which he says, “Your corpse.”
The room stills as Sunder raises his chin, as if to challenge Tairyn, who simply leans back with a raised eyebrow.
“Ignore him,” Bobble pleads.
“What did you really request?” I ask, partially to let Sunder know it was a goad. But also because I’m curious. He turns his eyes to me, the edges softening almost imperceptibly with anguish. The pause between us almost seems like he’s considering telling me. Maybe he would, if we were alone.
Callum lets out a tired sigh, and Sunder grunts an agreement.
“Do you know anything other than ape? Honestly, Mira. I don’t understand what this idiot has to offer you.” Tairyn’s mocking is blade-sharp.
The loud, jarring clatter of Sunder’s chair crashing to the floor causes me to gasp in surprise. The suddenness of his movement, along with Tairyn’s swift reaction, leaves me reeling for a moment. The sound echoes through the room, filling the air with tension and apprehension. My heart races as I watch them both stand up, their movements quick and urgent, like predators ready to pounce on their prey.
“Are you so threatened by me that you constantly feel the need to mock me?”
Where Sunder’s voice is a echoing roar, Tairyn’s is dangerously quiet. “Let me use small words so that you can understand, friend. You aren’t worthy of being a shard of me. And you sure as hell aren’t worthy of being her mate.”
I bite my lip, not sure whether I should intervene. But sometimes the only way for a group of cats to work out their differences is to let them fight out the pecking order amongst themselves. Not like they’re all cats, but maybe some part of them. That tracks, right?