Fire Kin by M.J. Scott

see him going against them without very good reason.
    Which made him an eminently sensible man. A Fae, a wraith, and a former spy
hai-salai
were a formidable trio. Gods help me if they took Rhian under their wing.
    Maybe we could just send the women out to solve the problem.
    Or maybe not. Knowing Bryony’s temper, there might be a certain amount of scorched earth to deal with in the aftermath. Women could be far more ruthless than men, given the right motivation. I’d learned that lesson well enough.
    After all, a queen had banished me and I was fairly sure another woman had orchestrated my fall from grace. I had no proof, but perhaps, after all this was done, I would spend some time in Summerdale and see what I could find.
    â€œWe should get back,” Rhian said, “start getting the men assigned and settled.”
    Guy snapped the glass shut and handed it to me. I took another long look at the man standing in the crossroads, committing his face to memory. Blood ran true amongst the Beasts. They tended to strong family resemblances. I would have to get the Templars to give us a full update on the packs and who was who.
    I shook my head. Perhaps, after this, if we all survived, I would find some deserted patch of land and never get involved in anything more complicated than deciding what I might like for dinner for a decade or two. Thirty years of strategy and tactics and war were making me cynical and weary.
    I had seen too many men come and go in that time. Some cashed out and retired, but more had died. A lower percentage than other mercenary troops perhaps, but still I had seen a lot of death. More than most Fae would see in their lifetimes. It was hard to watch my human friends age so quickly and pass by.
    I wondered if Bryony had learned the same lesson as me. Time moved fast, no matter how much of it you were allotted. One should make the most of it.
    I turned back from the window and nodded at Rhian. “All right, let’s get this started.”

Chapter Seven
    BRYONY
    It was two days before I heard back from my uncle. My father, really. Two days spent dealing with the aftermath of the fire and planning for the hospital and how we could continue to operate if any of a dozen different scenarios took place.
    Two days spent doing my best to avoid Ash. I didn’t manage to succeed entirely. He was working for the Templars, and the Templars were consulting with me. He managed to worm his way into the meetings more often than not. I knew he had a good reason for being there, but it was still irritating.
    He was circumspect in public, but he watched me. Watched me with those deep gray eyes until my skin itched in response. Itched and tingled with awareness until I wanted to scream.
    Even when he wasn’t there, I was aware of him. I could feel the echo of his power, that deep hot stillness, moving throughout the City, more powerful than any of the other Fae residents. My equal. Maybe more.
    And that was irritating too.
    Of course, he wasn’t used to the iron, so whether or not he could actually call on his full power if he needed to was a question as yet unanswered. Not that I’d ever had to try to call on mine to its full extent either. Healing was part of me, but it wasn’t the whole. I had other magics that I didn’t use for that skill. Magics that I barely touched here. I hoped I’d never have to.
    The other thing that made me itch was waiting for my father’s response. Every second that ticked away was one second longer for Ignatius to consolidate his position, for him to decide that he’d had enough time waiting and that it was time to act.
    Time to start the killing.
    The whole City strained with that knowledge, tension and worry scenting the air like woodsmoke.
    I didn’t know if the humans could sense it, but my Fae healers could. They moved a little too quickly, let frowns wrinkle usually calm faces. I had told them time and again that they were free to