“When we discussed the idea of spectating, I didn’t realize being the spectator was on offer.”I send the thought through, a wicked grin curling my lips.
Ryc’s head snaps in my direction, golden eyes locking with mine in a heartbeat. In the seconds Ryc’s left open, Cyran—unaware of any interference—sweeps Ryc’s feet from under him.
It pulls Ryc back into the fight and they both crash to the mat, Ryc roaring with laughter.
“Siren!” he bellows.
Cyran’s hands fly to his chest—a surrendering gesture—and he rolls onto his side away from Ryc. Honor bound fae indeed. He and Ryc pull themselves upright, Ryc giving me the glare of all glares… fighting the smile on his face.
Eve, vibrant with her own laughter, jams me with her elbow again. “I know what I saw, Cyran wins. You’ve crossed bounds.” She juts her chin in their direction.
Ryc scoffs before peering at the mat below him, discovering himself seated quite squarely upon the white line of the circleboundary. He heaves a sigh, raking a hand through his hair as he laughs.
“Siren,” he repeats.
“Your Majesty,” Cyran replies, dipping his head in a respectful bow, his chest heaving.
“No, no, Cyran,” Ryc laughs as he slings his arms over his pitched knees. “Claim your win. It’s well earned. I was calling thedemona siren.” He levels a smoldering glare in my direction. “She knows I’m easily distracted by her song.”
“I wasn’t singing,” I counter with a shrug, folding my arms across my chest. “Simply… spectating.”
“I’m convinced you enjoy tormenting me,”his amused tone rings through my mind.
“Your convictions are correct,”I reply, smiling.
“It seems Lady Ves is eager to start today’s lesson,” Cyran says as he rises to stand. He offers Ryc a hand and helps him to his feet.
“I’m quite content here, thank you,” I counter as Ryc claps Cyran on the shoulder in a friendly gesture, saying something too low for me to hear.
With a firm nod, Cyran looks to Eve. “Eve,” he calls.
Eve sighs as she peels herself from the wall. “Let’s see if his win goes to his head,” she says, her voice low.
“I can’t help you with that,” I retort. “But I’m confident you can handle him.”
She huffs a laugh, tossing me a glance over her shoulder. As she breezes past Ryc, they exchange silent nods. She and Cyran retreat to the far side of the room, to the center of the second circled mat.
My eyes swing to the glistening, bare chested nyraphim as he approaches. I’ve only ever seen him gleaming in such a way following exertion of a different nature—one that leaves me breathless beside him. He snags a small towel from a nearby shelf against the wall, smiling as I continue to openly stare. Wiping the sweat from his brow and face, he makes his way to me.
“Siren.” The quiet tease is accompanied by my favorite smirk as he claims the place Eve held moments ago.
“Yoursiren,” I correct and he laughs. I turn to face him, leaning my shoulder against the cool of the stone. “Eve says you used yourinnate in an innateless fight. Why?”
Ryc’s eyes dart across the room before returning to mine. “A reminder,” he says, his voice low. “To expect nothing, yet anticipate everything. He understands the purpose.”
“Careful,” I say, letting my eyes trail down his form of their own accord. If such a sight is to stand before me, why shouldn’t I enjoy it? “You’re speaking the language of the hells with that sentiment.”
He chuckles, turning to give me a better view. “And you interfered. Why?”
“For amusement,” I answer with a shrug. “And to level the playing field. An eye for an eye and all that.”
Ryc shakes his head as he laughs.
“Cyran is a good captain,” Ryc says, and he brushes his thumb along my jaw. “But I need him to become a great commander.”
Another shimmering ripple of magic washes over my skin as a crystalline blade of ice manifests in Cyran’s hands. Crimson fire flares before Eve, shielding her. The blade shatters, shards raining to the mat.
“Good!” Cyran calls as he swings again, the blade reconstructing itself.
