Chosen Fool (Forever Evermore #5)(56)

“Wait.” I held up a hand, cutting him off. “You’ve totally got the wrong impression, not to mention I’m in a room with a group that can overhear you. I’m fine. Really. Absolutely fine.” My white brows creased. “And I’m thinking I should probably call you back, so you can do…what you’re…doing …” I waved a hand. “You know, I’ll talk to you when you’re done.” I tapped my fingers on my lips. “Um…when do you think that might be?” It had looked to be getting near the end, but I wasn’t about to comment on that.

“Just do this again in a few hours. I should be free.” He scowled. “You really are fine?”

I inhaled heavily, rubbing my forehead. Having him ask so many times was seriously not good for the tough image I was barely hanging on to. “Yes. I’m fine. And I’ll talk to you in a few hours. But you might want to have the other Rulers and Elders nearby, because I need to ask you all something.”

He nodded once. “Okay, I’ll make that happen.” He blinked. “By the way, Isolde is going batshit crazy.” Another blink. “Like, seriously batshit crazy.” A zoning blink. “Is there any way you can pull her through to the Temple?”

“Shit,” I muttered, nibbling at my bottom lip. “I’ll work it out.”

“Thank you.” He flicked his fingers. “Now close the display, or whatever it is.”

“Yep.” I lifted my glowing hand. “Have…uh…fun.”

“Smart-ass,” he muttered. But he was wearing a grin.

And he started to turn back to Queen Cooper.

I quickly swiped my hand across the screen and shut my power down. I cleared my throat in the silence of the room, and I pointed absent-mindedly where the screen used to be. “He was busy.”





Chapter Twenty-One

Reese’s lips were actually trembling. He choked, “We got that.” A cut-off snort. “You do know there’s a way to knock before viewing?”

I stared. My cheeks were still flushed from a moment ago. “How?”

He laughed, a real smile on his handsome face. “You ask instead of call, then you can hear whomever you’re trying to reach. Instead of seeing them.”

My brows lifted, a small smile gracing my lips. “That would have been nice to know before I saw that.” My head tilted, evaluating him. “I need to pull my Vizoac through. Any clue how to do that?”

His brows lifted as he caught on quickly. “Isolde is your Vizoac?”

I nodded once. “Sin and I have used that name since we were little, and the meaning behind it fit perfectly when we found out I had a Vizoac.”

“She should be connected to you,” the One drawled languidly, cutting into our conversation. “Find your tether, and you’ll find hers.”

“Ah.” I nodded, staring back down to Tristan’s fur. “Thank you.”

He hummed quietly.

I closed my eyes, ignoring everyone around me. I opened my Core.

When I floated through the cosmos, through the deep abyss of the galaxies, instead of looking outward as I normally did, I peered inward. I found my shimmery white tether, brighter now that I had the Prodigy power. I found a tiny white sliver circling my tether. I pulled it to my lips, whispering, “Come to me.”

I cut off my power abruptly.

The One was lunging over the table, grabbing onto Tristan’s collar as the tiger snarled. Tristan tried to raise up, damn near crushing me painfully as Isolde ran in circles on top of his back. She was altering between howling and growling, literally racing up to his head then down. And moving to do it all over again.

With my arms pinned and crushed against the seat, I ordered on a pant, “Isolde stop.”

She jerked to a halt, her head flying toward me. She instantly started yapping.

But the One was barking, “Tristan, get down.” He jerked on the diamond collar. “You’re hurting her, you big oaf.” When Tristan readjusted, I could take a large breath.

Although he didn’t get down.

Knowing stubbornness when I saw it, I grabbed Isolde with my freed hands and set her on the table. She continued yapping at me, clearly pissed I had left without her. “I’m sorry, all right?” I petted her tiny furry head. “It won’t happen again.”

She growled once at me, then sat primly. Her head cocked at the tiger.

The One ordered, “Tristan, try not to hurt the bitty furball.” A shake of his collar. “Understand?”

“She’s not completely bitty, anymore,” I stated defensively. “She’s grown.”

The One waited for Tristan to huff at him before he released his collar. He flopped back onto his chair, running a hand through his hair before flicking a finger at Isolde. “That is most definitely a bitty furball. Anything smaller would be considered a cotton ball.”

Isolde flicked him an irritated glance, but she completely surprised me by standing and walking back and forth a few times in front of Tristan’s head where it now rested on the table. She eyed him from every angle, then she bent to a crouch and started crawling toward him from the side…and an inch away from him, she lifted her nose and sniffed him. Her head cocked, and she sniffed a few more times before she slowly rose. Tristan’s eyes covertly flicked to her the whole time, watching her carefully. Isolde rounded his face…and whacked him straight on his nose with her tail—a deliberate provocation to play—before she strutted down the table, eyeing the group.