“Crap,” Kurik growled as he unclipped his phone. He stepped back, answered. “Good morning, sir.”
Only one jackal in the clan was called sir. Markus. Amarie watched as Kurik transformed into the soldier he was. “Yes, sir. He awakened this morning. Yes, she’s here, too. We’d like to thank you and the priestess for saving him. Of course, sir. We’ll be there.”
Kurik disconnected. “We have a guard meeting in thirty. Markus said we can meet with the priestess after.”
“I guess that means no celebration breakfast.” Amarie tried not to pout, but she had more than food on her mind. Rashon and Kurik were finally offering what she’d been wanting, and she didn’t want them to have second thoughts. She wanted the good stuff, and she wanted it now.
“We’ve got time for eggs and toast. Our celebration will have to be postponed, not canceled.”
“Dinner then,” Rashon decided. “That way we can take our time. We’ve got a lot to celebrate, and I want to enjoy every moment of it.”
CHAPTER THREE
They made their way to the clubhouse on foot. It was a beautiful sunny day, and several of the clan’s children took advantage, biking and skating along the sidewalk under the watchful eye of several females sitting on a porch a couple of doors down. Markus’s clan had an entire planned community to themselves, a collection of single-family homes and duplexes surrounded by thick woodland that disguised the abundance of high-tech and magical security that protected it. It was so far removed from the rundown small town in the middle of nowhere her former clan called home that Amarie still had difficulty accepting the blessing of her changed circumstances.
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