Island of Glass (The Guardians Trilogy #3)(62)

“We didn’t actually get supplies.”

“What? Why? Where have you been?”

“Annika’s in the tower, right? Sawyer wanted to bag some stones for an engagement ring, so—”

“Sawyer!” Tossing the dishcloth aside for the moment, Sasha raced over, hugged him hard. “This is so . . . Stones? Not an actual ring?”

“See, I was thinking you could help me design one, then maybe Bran—”

“Oh! That is the best idea!” She hugged him again. “She’ll love it. I can’t wait to start. Tell me what you have in mind.”

“Actually, we need to wait a minute on that. Right?” He appealed to Riley.

“Right. When we were in Dublin, we—”

“Dublin?” Sasha gaped, actually gave Sawyer a little shove as she stepped back from him. “You went to Dublin.”

“Long story short. I had a contact, so we zipped there, got the stones, and we were having a drink when . . .”

When Sasha held up a finger, Riley trailed off. “The two of you went all the way to Dublin—it doesn’t matter how quickly you got there and back—” Sasha said, effectively cutting off Riley’s main argument. “You didn’t tell anyone you were going. Then you stopped for a drink?”

“Maybe you had to be there. And okay, I bought a sweatshirt. I needed a sweatshirt. It wasn’t like we were trolling Grafton Street.”

“Anyone who leaves the property needs to make it clear where they are. Obviously something happened while you were gone. I’ll get the others, and you can explain yourselves.”

As Sasha carefully covered the loaves with the towel, Sawyer shifted his feet. “Can we leave out the why we went? At least when Anni’s around?”

Sasha sent him a cool stare. “All you had to do was tell me, or Bran or Doyle. We know how to keep a secret. I’ll get them.”

Alone with Sawyer, Riley let out a long breath. “Mom’s very disappointed in us.”

“I feel like an idiot. How did she make me feel like an idiot without raising her voice?”

“Skills. I’m opening wine. We never finished that pint, and I have a feeling we’re going to need some adult beverages.”

“We didn’t get the supplies either. How did we forget the supplies?”

“We were in a little bit of a hurry to get back,” Riley reminded him. She opened a bottle of red, set out glasses. And prepared to face the music.

Annika danced down the back steps—sulks long forgotten—as Doyle came in from the outside.

“Are we having wine? Bran and I have been working very hard. Wine is good.” Annika wrapped arms around Sawyer, snuggled in. “So are you.”

Stroking her hair, he shot Riley a wan smile over Annika’s head.

“Show some solidarity,” Riley said to Doyle before he could go for a beer. She poured six glasses.

Before he took one, he studied her face. “What’s the deal?”

“All at once, everybody at once.” And she noted from the look on Bran’s face as he came in with Sasha he’d already been partially briefed.

“Okay, here’s the deal.” To fortify herself, Riley took a glass, took a gulp. “Sawyer and I shifted to Dublin.”

“What is Dublin?” Annika asked.

“The capital of Ireland.” Doyle’s gaze hardened. “On the east coast of the country.”

“That’s very far for food supplies. It’s a city?” Annika continued, drawing back from Sawyer. “But you didn’t take me?”

“No, I . . . Well, we—”

“He needed to go there to do something for you. A surprise for you.”

Far from mollified, Annika frowned at Riley. “A surprise for me? What is it?”

“Anni, a surprise means you don’t get to know yet. I went to help him with it.”

“Regardless,” Bran interrupted, his tone as dismissive as Sasha’s had been. “Traveling that far, for any reason, without telling the rest of us, is directly in opposition to everything we’ve done and become.”

“It’s my fault—” Sawyer began, but Riley cut him off.

“No, we’re in it together. And you’re right. I’m going to say we got caught up and leave it at that. Sawyer can grovel later.”

“Hey.”

“I just think you’d be better at groveling than me. We can keep talking about how stupid or irresponsible or whatever we were. Or we can tell you what happened that’s a hell of a lot more important.”

“You suck at groveling,” Sawyer muttered.

“Told ya.”

“Nerezza. It was Nerezza.” Sasha stepped forward. “I can feel it now.”

“Alive and in person. Or in the person of a waitress at this pub off Grafton.”

“You went for a pint?” Doyle demanded.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have done the same. We finished our . . . business, went for a beer before heading back. And I’ve barely gotten a good start on my Guinness when the waitress comes over. At first, it was her own face and body, her own voice. But the words?”

Riley closed her eyes a moment to bring it back. “She said: ‘When I’m done, and this world is dark, I’ll drink your blood.’” Riley glanced down at the red wine in her hand, considered, then drank it almost for spite. “And if you don’t think it’s a jolt to hear some pretty young waitress say that in an Irish accent, let me tell you, it is.”