from here!” Jak yelled, thrashing at the straps so that Rhy—who’d really tried to manfully swallow his laughter—cracked up all over again. He pointed at Jak, arms and legs flailing as he tried to get loose, but couldn’t get words past the wheezing laughter.
A smile cracked through Astar’s concern before he squashed it into seriousness. “We have to get him down,” he said.
Unable to speak, Rhy clutched an arm around his gut and nodded. Astar tried to look disgusted, but a snicker escaped him, snorting out his nose. He tried to stifle the laugh, but that only made it worse. Astar’s face tightened and swelled with suppressed laughter until he looked like a bloated jellyfish about to pop, which only made Rhy laugh harder. Finally Astar lost the battle, his booming laugh ringing out, both he and Rhy leaning against the barrel to keep themselves upright.
“Fuck you guys!” Jak yelled with renewed frenzy. He went on, but in Dasnarian, the few words Rhy recognized increasingly filthy.
“All right, all right,” Rhy managed, finally mastering himself. “Hang on. We’ll get you down.”
Astar stood with his butt against the cask, bent over with his hands on his knees as he wheezed. “I’m sorry, Jak,” he managed to say. “Really, I am. But the way you look—” He choked on another laugh and cleared his throat. “How are we getting him free?”
Rhy began resolutely stripping off his clothes. “I have an idea.”
Astar eyed him. “I take it this idea doesn’t involve calling footmen?”
“Not for us manly men,” Rhy agreed with a thin smile.
“We could call the girls to help.”
“We are not calling the girls!” Jak yelled at the sky.
For once, Rhy agreed. “Strip, Astar, and do the bear thing. Jak can carry our clothes.”
~ 4 ~
“What is taking them so long?” Gendra frowned at the door the three guys had gone through.
“Hopefully we won’t have to stage a rescue,” Zeph said, tossing back the last of her whiskey. Lena was nursing hers, as she was not a shapeshifter and lacked the hearty metabolism that kept them from getting drunk without serious effort. If Zeph’s story was true—and there was no reason for her to lie or exaggerate—that Rhyian had gotten drunk following his mother’s edict that he attend the party, then he’d had to work at it. Certainly said something about his feelings for her. As if he hadn’t demonstrated that clearly enough with the incident.
“I could go spy on them,” Zeph offered. “I have a bat form that would work. They’ll never see me.”
“Never mind them,” Stella said. “They can handle it, and their absence lets us talk. Lena, how are you feeling?”
“I’m having a great time,” Lena lied through her teeth. Being in the same room with Rhyian was sheer torture. He kept staring at her with intense, broody eyes over the rim of his goblet, like she wouldn’t notice. And he had yet to speak to her directly. She wished everyone could just get it through their heads that she and Rhyian did much better with a desert and a mountain range between them.
“You don’t have to stay if it’s too difficult for you,” Stella persisted.
“Yes, she does so have to stay,” Zeph insisted, sliding a long arm around Lena’s waist and hugging her like she meant to keep her from running.
Stella’s soulful eyes searched Lena’s face. “It’s painful for them, Zeph. Don’t be cruel. You weren’t there for the incident.”
Stella had been there. She’d been the one to sit with her while Lena cried—and to witness Lena’s vow that she’d never shed another tear over Rhyian. Stella had also promised never to tell anyone what had happened, and she never had. Not even Astar, unless she had told her twin and he’d kept it to himself, too, which was possible.
“No, I wasn’t there for whatever happened,” Zeph said, sharpening. “Isn’t it time you told us?”
“No,” said Lena decisively.
“It’s good to talk about these things,” Zeph persisted. “Isn’t that right, Gendra?”
Gendra’s indigo eyes widened, and she choked on her whiskey. “Leave me out of it. Rhy is my friend, too. Whatever terrible thing he did, I don’t want to know.”
“How do you know it was Rhy who was terrible?” Zeph demanded.
“Because he feels so guilty,” Gendra retorted.
“He does?” That surprised Lena. Rhyian had never demonstrated a hint of remorse. Quite the opposite. The way he’d smiled when she discovered him, sly and smug and shameless… She clenched her teeth to force the memory away.