“You won,” Grant says with a little shrug. He is wearing a loose, wine-red shirt today and it is too big, sliding down his shoulder with the movement.
“This is not a competition. It is training. You are supposed to try.”
“I did! I dodged you at first.”
“And then you gave up.”
“I can’t fight your blessing.”
“Why not?”
Grant throws his hands up in the air as thoughhehas the right to be exasperated about this. I truly do not understand. I do not sit in on his training sessions with the others—that was a unanimous decision, one I was not invited to share my opinions on—but I know how he enjoys them. He is always smiling after, face flushed with excitement about whatever it is he has learnt.
“I justcan’t,” Grant complains. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares as though this is my fault. “We can try again tomorrow.”
“We cannot try again tomorrow. We need to get this right now. What if we are attacked?”
“The wards—”
“The wards will not hold against the high fae, and you know that. I know that you do. You need to be able to defend yourself.”
Grant’s mouth sets in a stubborn line. “Because you don’t want to do it anymore?”
“What?”
He snorts, and now I believe he is mostly speaking to himself. “Not like you ever let me get in danger in the first place. Not like I am now. Can’t even get out if I want to.”
It is my turn to look away. Grant is not trapped here—never that—but after he sneaked out and found the fae tearing open the veil, Maurice upgraded the wards significantly, and the Huntsman agreed to help. Grant can still come and go, but he can no longer do so without the rest of us knowing about it.
His frustrations are understandable. I will not compromise his safety.
“Again,” I snap, and he jerks his head up, glaring at me.
“No. I’m done.”
“You’re not done until you win.”
“Vlad, I just want to—”
“Now.”
“No!”
His power bursts out of him in an uncontrolled blast, though at least it is a small one. I hiss through my teeth when I crash into one of the bookshelves. Magic pulses through the room for another second before Grant pulls it back into himself.
I’m on my knees and push to my feet with a faint groan. Nothing feels broken, and the aches will be gone in a few minutes.
Grant’s face is white, eyes big and terrified. “You… I—You…”
“I am fine,” I say. “That is precisely the kind of power you need to be able to channel and handle properly.”
“I hurt you.”
“I told you that I am fine.”
“You—” He shakes his head firmly and before I can say anything else to convince him that he did just as I asked, he is gone from the room.
His bedroom door slams shut on the floor above. I let out a heavy sigh and briefly close my eyes. I suppose that could have gone worse, though I am not precisely certain how.
