A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. “So that’s where he got his hair color from?”
“Ye didn’t think he was a natural black-haired god, did ye?” Sean asked, leaning back with an amused grin.
“Don’t think he’s any sort of god. Unless there’s a deity of ego and death?”
Sean tilted his head slightly, as if he was seriously considering the question. “That one might be called Hades. Or Jackson.”
My eyebrows shot up, and a pang of regret tightened around my heart for the one friend I had left behind in Cyclos.
“Jackson? You think he’s the god of ego and death?”
Sean shrugged, feigning indifference. “His ego is definitely out of this world.”
I frowned. Jackson had his flaws, but his ego didn’t seem particularly extraordinary to me.
“Sean…” I ventured cautiously. “Do you… maybe like Jackson?”
Sean burst out laughing, a bit too loudly, then cleared his throat, suddenly aware his over-the-top reaction had given him away.
“I mean, he’s not bad to look at,” he admitted grudgingly.
“No he−”
“But he’s so self-righteous and always thinks he’s right. Never listens to anyone else’s opinion. He’s incredibly stubborn, haven’t you noticed?” Sean interrupted, as if he hadn’t even heard me.
“I haven−”
“Also, he’s convinced he has this gods-given talent for knowing what someone else is thinking. Even if he’s just thinking what he thinks they’re thinking, he’s sure he’s right all the time.”
His rant grew more animated, so I reclined in my chair, letting him continue to vent about my only friend, who seemed to occupy Sean’s thoughts far more often than I had realized.
The next day, Caden paired me with Enya for training, concentrating on my so-called “focus.” While he and Sean were busy preparing for their trip to Slava—the one I wasn’t allowed to join—Enya unleashed her full force on me.
Our training ground was a stark contrast to those at Cyclos. Here, we were outside in the open courtyard, where everyone could watch. The area was filled with an assortment of training equipment: wooden dummies, obstacle courses, and targets, all surrounded by a low stone wall. It was a public arena where skill and prowess were on display for anyone passing by.
Despite the audience and the jeers from those who unmistakably didn’t like me, I had been trained by James. Even without imbuing my Skindo, I was more than capable of holding my own. I took a certain satisfaction in showing those who hated me exactly what I was capable of. And I did so by kicking Enya’s ass.
“Guess your fighting skills are in focus,” Enya panted, her breath coming in short bursts. I couldn’t help but smirk at her comment.
“What about your translation? Last we spoke, you mentioned something about a ‘malpractice’?” She asked.
My eyes narrowed as she probed. “Yeah, I got it sorted out.”
“Really? Want to show me?”
“Nope.”
Her jaw clenched. “Why not?”
I cursed inwardly, realizing I needed a plausible explanation. There was no way I was going to reveal my magic was traceable within the Collective.
“Don’t feel like sharing with you anymore,” I said, trying to sound as dismissive as possible.
Enya froze, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. “Are you sure that’s the reason, or are you deflecting? Because I remember you doing so a lot.”
“Let me be more clear,” I said, shifting to a defensive stance. “I don’t feel like sharing anything with someone who shattered my trust without so much as an apology or explanation.”
Without waiting for her reply, I stormed off, my frustration fueling my stride as I marched all the way to my room.
