Chosen One (Forever Evermore #6)(46)
My lips twitched on their own accord. “Thank you for being polite about it, and,” I nodded once, “yes, I’m done.”
Elder Kincaid sniffed heavily, then a broad grin graced his features, and he held his palm out over the table. “Pay up, gentlemen.”
I barely caught my jaw from falling when Elder Fergus, Elder Venclaire, and Elder Nelson all grumbled under their collective breaths as they brought their wallets out and started placing cash in his hand.
I growled, “How many times have I told you I am not a fountain for bets?”
Elder Fergus’s eyes twinkled at me, even as he took change from Elder Kincaid’s quickly filling palm. “You were always our favorite, Caro.” He winked at me. “Still are, so don’t expect it to stop anytime soon.”
King Collins made a noise in his throat, then blurted in a quiet whisper against my ear, “Just one story. All I want is one story about them.”
Elder Venclaire instantly interjected, snapping his fingers at me. “She’s already said she can’t remember.”
“Probably forgotten in the time warp.”
“Who the hell could be expected to remember anything from that long ago?”
“I’m betting Elder Harcourt zapped those memories.”
My lips trembled, not glancing at the fumbling Elders, and I said steadily to my King, “I’m sure they know best.” I patted my King’s hand when he scowled. “I’m sorry.”
Elder Jacobs stated candidly, “Actually, I remember vividly—”
“No!” the Elders and I barked at once.
Hell, I didn’t even want some of those actions known. They weren’t as bad as my most recent stumbling’s. But, still, it wouldn’t help anyone gain respect for me. I had been free then of any restrictions…and now, I wasn’t.
Elder Jacobs cleared his throat, then smirked, dark eyes cunning. “This could be fun.”
We glared.
Queen Ruckler cleared her throat, gaining our attention. “On to a bit of business.” She was spreading jam on her roll, and I noticed King Zeller wince next to her before she calmly pushed the jam package to the other side of her plate. “Prodigies, we realize we’ve been remiss about physical training. We know you’re all highly skilled, but you need to keep active.” Blue eyes to Brann. “Not the active you’re thinking about.” More jam spreading. “So, we’ve set up a training routine that will occur before breakfast,” I barely withheld my groan of distaste, “and shouldn’t affect your duties during the rest of the day.”
A bitty howl interrupted her down the table.
I blinked, glancing about. “Isolde?” She had been sleeping on Sin’s pillow the last night, but had wandered off early this morning as she tended to do. “Where are you?”
Another soulful tiny howl sounded again toward the end of the table, but I couldn’t see her.
Elder Merrick sighed, then griped gruffly, his voice gravelly and irate, “She’s down here.” A huff from his wolf. “Biting my damn shoelace.” We watched him bend, all of us hearing him mutter in a gruff command, “You are seriously one screwed up, Vizoac. Go to your owner and leave me the hell alone.”
A bitty growl.
He growled back.
There was silence, and then we watched his curly head nod. “At least one of you does what you’re told.” He started to rise.
Another soulful howl lit our ears.
“Christ,” the One muttered next to him as I blinked like an idiot, and he leaned down around Elder Merrick’s irritated half raised form, his bulky frame disappearing under the table for a moment. “Come here, Isolde.”
Instantly, a bitty growl erupted, but both the One and Elder Merrick straightened, and Isolde’s tiny, furry form was sitting in the One’s cupped hands while she sat calmly, but bared her teeth a bit at him. The One brought her closer to his face, stating calmly, “You are not screwed up. A bitty fur ball, yes. But not screwed up as others may say.”
Elder Merrick grunted a quiet growl, keeping mute, watching under heavy lids as Isolde growled once more at the One before he placed her calmly on the table. Her head immediately turned to Elder Merrick. She bared her teeth at him, and then turned on her heel, tail flicking in agitation as she calmly moved past the plates…to me, licking my hand before pouncing her front paws on Sin’s chest, yapping up at him, her tail swishing merrily.
Queen Ruckler grunted, watching as Sin ruffled her behind her ears, Isolde instantly flopping onto her back for a wanted belly rub. “Maybe…a little…off.” Isolde’s head tilted and she growled at her, but Queen Ruckler waved her hand. “As I was saying, you four will be training.” Her lips curled around her bite, and I had a very bad sense of foreboding. “Against us and the Elders.”
Standing in a training room below the manor the next morning, one of the many they had down here, I was stuck wearing a damn black sports bra and these tiny black cotton shorts and tennis shoes with my short hair pulled up in a tiny ponytail. Just like Aria. Brann and London were only clad in loose, black cotton capris and tennis shoes. And while the three of them seemed to be used to the attire—they had told me it was identical to what they wore during their combat classes at King Hall—I was decidedly…not. Especially as the four of us were placed in front of the Rulers and Elders where they sat comfortably in their own work-out attire on wooden bleachers against a wall of the small sterile drab square room, the wall gray rock, the center of the floor covered in a neon blue mat, and that was it. Like a damn jail cell.