Stella gave him a long look, silvery sparks belying her calm expression. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” He snatched up his whiskey glass without unbalancing the chair. “Do you think you’re the only one who cares about other people? That you’re the only one who’s here to see that we all make it through this quest alive?”
Her gaze grew thunderous, storm clouds gathering on the horizon. “I never said that, Jak.”
“No, you keep your own counsel,” he bit out, more viciously than he meant to.
“Did I miss something?” Gen asked, looking back and forth between them, a line between her brows.
“No,” Stella replied firmly, pushing back her chair to stand. “I’m tired and going to bed.”
“You barely ate,” Jak pointed out, feeling both guilty that he’d disrupted her desultory eating and irritated that she’d run away like that. “Sit down again and finish your supper.”
“I’m not hungry,” she shot back defiantly. “And you don’t order me.”
“Jak’s right,” Gen put in with concern. “We burned a lot of energy today. You need to eat more than that. Jak will behave himself.”
“I wasn’t behaving badly,” he complained.
“You’re being an ass,” Gen hissed at him under her breath, as if there were any way in the world Stella wouldn’t hear that. “You’re as bad as Rhyian.”
“Did someone blacken my name?” Rhy slouched against the doorway, one eyebrow arched to demonstrate how much he didn’t care.
“Oh, wonderful,” Gen muttered. “Now there’s two of them.”
“Hey!” Jak protested. Quite the comedown indeed if Gen really thought he was being like Rhy. Gen smirked, and Rhy paused beside the still-standing Stella, glancing from her face to her plate.
“You probably should eat, cousin,” he said with surprising gentleness. “Don’t deprive yourself just because Jak’s being an ass.”
“You weren’t even here,” Jak countered.
“I didn’t have to be.” Rhy held Stella’s chair until she sighed and sat, then snagged a chair of his own and wedged it between the girls. He grinned at Jak. “I could hear you all arguing from upstairs.”
Finding his whiskey glass empty, Jak got up for more.
“Get me one, too,” Rhy called after him, and Jak made a rude gesture but snagged a second glass. And because he wasn’t an ass, he poked his head through the doorway to ask someone to bring Rhy a plate.
“I had to heal four cracked ribs on Jak this morning,” Stella was telling Rhy as he returned. “And clear him of infection from the wounds you put on him.”
Rhy raked a hand through his unruly black hair. “Shit, man—I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“It was nothing,” Jak said, handing him the whiskey and clinking his own glass against Rhy’s. Sliding a glare at Stella, he went back to his own chair. “Not even worth mentioning.”
She met his gaze coolly. “A mere flesh wound?”
Now she was talking to him, and it wasn’t any better than the silent treatment. “It’s between me and Rhy and it’s handled.”
“A guy thing. Really?” Gen rolled her eyes.
“If you like,” Jak said.
“I don’t like,” Gen retorted, “because it’s the women who have to patch you up from your manly manly bro stunts.”
“I seem to recall Zeph nearly killing herself fighting the stone giant,” he countered. “And then she and Lena both needed extensive healing after their latest, all-female stunt.”
“That was in the course of duty for the quest!” Gen banged down her now-empty wineglass. “Not whatever dick-swinging you two were up to.” She leveled a furious glare on Rhy, who held up his hands in surrender.
“I swear, I never touched Jak’s dick,” he said solemnly, making Jak choke on his whiskey.
“Let me get you more wine,” Jak said to Gen, using his smoothest courtly manners. She made a face at him but handed over her glass. A group of servants bustled in just then, setting a full plate in front of Rhy, clearing away Jak’s and Gen’s cleaned ones. One man hesitated at Stella’s side.
“I’m done,” Stella told him with a soft smile.
“Do you have soup?” Jak asked as he brought Gen’s glass back and took his own seat.
“Soup, milord?” The man looked startled.
“Broth, chowder, stew. Something like that. She prefers that kind of thing.” He tipped his chin at Stella. “And sweets. Anything sweet you’ve got would be welcome.”
“Of course, milord. Right away.” The man bustled out, and Jak didn’t bother to correct his error in giving him a title. No lord he, and all the happier for it.
Stella was eyeing him. “Thank you, Jak. That was thoughtfully done.”
“One day you’ll learn to just ask for what you want,” he told her. She raised one dark brow, and he nearly bit his tongue wanting to take that back, since she’d very clearly told him what she wanted—and didn’t want—that very morning.
“Here we go again,” Gen muttered darkly.
“No, we don’t,” Stella said with unusual firmness, turning to Rhy. “Jak mentioned that you found us because you sensed Lena was no longer in this world. Can you tell me what exactly you felt?”
Rhy considered her as he chewed. “Want to just look in my head? That might be easier than me trying to explain.”
“It wouldn’t be easier on Stella.” That was just like Rhy, to take the easy route at the cost of someone else. “That kind of thing is hard on her.”
Rhy gave him a bemused look. “Don’t forget who my mother is,” he replied. “The omnipotent Sorceress Andromeda has been rummaging around in my head all my life. I know how to let them see what they’re looking for without soiling their magic with my foul emotions. Sweet Nilly has been trained by the best and knows what she’s doing. Besides, I assume it’s important or you wouldn’t be asking?”
He directed that last at Stella, who nodded cautiously. “It might be. And I do know what I’m doing,” she said to Jak. “So stop acting like a mother hen.”
“Am I an ass or am I a hen?” he asked philosophically.
“It’s entirely possible to be both,” Gen shot at him, but only half-heartedly, because her attention was on Stella and Rhy.
It shouldn’t annoy him, watching Stella lay light fingertips on Rhy’s bare forearm, making skin-to-skin contact, but it did. Rhy closed his eyes, holding still for her as the magic gathered around her like mist condensing over the ocean as the air cooled and the sun set. With their dark heads bent together, the family resemblance was apparent. Their mothers were sisters, and the three of them—including Astar—had always been a tight-knit group. Especially when the twins were little and learning to control their shapeshifting, they’d spent a lot of time in Annfwn. They were close cousins, practically like siblings.
I don’t want to be like a brother to you! his own voice shouted in his head, words hurled like weapons at her. And she’d reared back as if wounded, pale, frightened by his vehemence. He’d well and truly fucked up. Worse, he didn’t see any way to fix it.