A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

It’s surprisingly sweet and thoughtful from a girl I never thought I’d be friends with. “Thanks.”


She nods once, clearly uncomfortable as she gazes back down on the clothes on the bed. I use the opportunity to shuck off my pajamas and slip the dress over my head. “I don’t know if the boys have ever told you or not, but I really don’t have many girlfriends. Maggie, yeah,” she says, mentioned the girl who apparently was fighting with her boyfriend over sushi, “but . . . I don’t know. Me and the other girls in high school didn’t get on too well.”

Well, it’s no surprise. Most of them were probably seething in jealousy over her beauty. “Oh,” I begin, but she keeps going.

“Last night was kind of . . . fun, I guess. You know? Other than me puking my guts out once I got home and enduring a whopper of a lecture from Mom and then another from Kellan, not to mention waking up to a couple of messages from Steve the bartender. But, it was nice hanging out with . . .” She sort of motions toward me at the same time as she picks up a shrug. “You know.”

“Yeah,” I tell her, smoothing the dress. It fits perfectly. “It was fun for me, too.”

She gives me a wry smile, like she somehow knows I threw up this morning, too, and passes over a turquoise shrug. “Are you upset you have to stay behind again today?”

I’m not too surprised she knows the details, although I wonder if it was Kellan or Astrid who told her. “A little,” I admit. The shrug also fits perfectly. “It’s weird knowing the Council will be . . .”

“Discussing your homicidal tendencies?” Even her chuckle is all throaty and sexy, which makes me more than a wee bit jealous, considering my laughter can rival a hyena’s at times.

“I just can’t wrap my mind around it.” I shake my head, like it’ll somehow clear and these accusations will just be nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination.

“Mom says Jens Belladonna is a royal prick. She also says that if you focus too much on what others say about you, you lose sight of what you ought to be thinking about yourself.”

I laugh at the thought of Astrid—prim, proper and ladylike Astrid—calling someone a prick. “Your mom is a smart woman.”

“That she is.” Callie lines a pair of red flats up. “Another thing Mom drilled into my head is that a girl should always have a pair of cute red shoes. It’s an Elvin thing. Didn’t know if you had a pair or not, so I got these for you. I guessed on your size.”

I pick a shoe up and flip it over. Damn, she’s good. “You should open a boutique yourself,” I say. “You’d be good at helping girls find the right things.”

Something akin to sadness flickers in her eyes right before a knock sounds.

“I need to get going,” Jonah says, stepping into the room. His pea coat’s already on, his hands stuffed into the pockets.

Callie murmurs something about needing to find Kellan; Jonah steps aside so she can slip through the door. He motions first to my outfit and then to the rest of the clothes lying on the bed. “She’s gone shopping for you.”

I tug on the dress. “Look okay?”

He nods and comes closer. “It means she likes you.” His head tilts to the side, and there’s concern in the blue of his eyes. “Are you . . . is this okay? Her doing this for you?” He swallows, and it’s then I notice just how uncomfortable he is with this. With her. “I didn’t know she’d be coming with Kellan today.”

And the weird thing is, I actually am okay with it all. Probably more so than him at the moment. “I like her,” I tell him. “I can see why you do, too.”

Panic replaces the concern. “You can’t think—”

I laugh and lean in to kiss him quickly, then put him at ease. “No, silly. I mean—I get why she’s been your friend for a long time. She’s sort of harsh, but I think it comes from a good place. She reminds me of Cora, in a way.”

We go out into the living room, where Callie and Kellan are talking quietly to one another. She’s got a hand on his arm, and he keeps shaking his head. It makes me think maybe he’s just as uncomfortable as the rest of us.

That easiness between us in the hospital has sadly disappeared now that we’re all in the apartments Jonah and I share.

“I should go,” Callie says, her hand dropping from Kellan’s arm. She gives him a quick hug, tells him she’ll call him later, and then says to me, “The dress looks good on you, Chloe.”

When she leaves, it’s Kellan’s turn to stuff his hands into his pockets. He looks worn-out, like he hasn’t been asleep for the better part of a week. “Rumor has Paavo Battletracker getting the job today,” he says to his brother.

Heather Lyons's books