He moved to the centre of the yard with that lethal grace, shedding his training jacket in one fluid motion. The shirt beneath was already damp with sweat from his earlier devastation of Fenric, clinging to every line of muscle and sinew like a second skin.
I was going to murder Darian.
Slowly.
With witnesses.
“This is going to be good,” Linc stage-whispered to absolutely no one, earning himself am elbow from Lira that he completely ignored.
I stalked toward Varyth, every step feeling like walking toward either salvation or damnation. The line between them so blurred I couldn’t tell which was which anymore.
He watched me approach, perfectly still, tracking my movement like I was prey and he was deciding the best angle of attack.
“Rules?” I asked, stopping just outside striking distance.
His lips curved, a ghost of something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Don’t permanently damage anything I’ll need later.”
“Good,” I said, rolling my shoulders back like I was preparing for actual combat instead of whatever the fuck this was about to become. “So your brain and balls are fair game then.”
The words hung in the air for exactly one heartbeat before Darian’s laughter exploded across the yard—loud, delighted, absolutely unhinged. Shaelith made a choking sound that might have been an attempt to swallow her own amusement. Even Linc looked like he was restraining himself from chuckling.
Varyth’s expression started at shock, ghosted through outrage, and then settled into something far more dangerous.
“Is that so?”
“Seemed important to clarify the parameters.” I kept my voice light, casual, like I hadn’t just said something that made the air between us go taut and hungry. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally damage somethingirreplaceable.”
“How thoughtful.”
Behind me, I could feel the weight of everyone’s attention. They were absolutely eating this up like it was the best entertainment they’d had all week.
I’d strangle them all later.
For now, I circled left, testing his stance. He mirrored my movement, perfectly balanced, perfectly controlled. Always so fucking controlled.
“I’ve been looking for you this week,” I said, because apparently my mouth had decided to stage a coup against my better judgment.
He was tension wrapped in skin, every line of his body suddenly wary. “Have you?”
The question landed like a trap. Like he was already braced for whatever came next, already building walls I couldn’t see but could feel pressing against the space between us.
“Why?”
I opened my mouth to say something flippant. Safe. Anything that wouldn’t expose the raw, desperate truth that I’d spent the last seven days hunting through the castle looking for him because I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands in my hair, his mouth on mine, the way my entire body had ignited under his touch before I’d frozen like a fucking coward and let him walk away.
“Maybe I wanted to?—”
Fix it. Tell you I panicked. Feel your hands on me again without ghosts between us.
But the words wouldn’t come. So I circled him instead, let my body say what my mouth wouldn’t. Let my hips sway just slightly, let my fingers trail along my own collarbone in a gesture that could have been stretching but wasn’t.
Fuck it.
“Maybe I wanted to finish what we started.”
Varyth’s eyes went wide. Just for a heartbeat. Then something shuttered behind them, confusion bleeding into something I couldn’t understand.
“Isara—” He started, then stopped. His throat worked. “I don’t—what do you?—”
