“Be a woman.” I shrugged.
Riordan scowled. “Well, that’s just… anatomically inconvenient.”
His shoulders slumped, and he let out a dramatic sigh, one hand thrown over his heart like he’d been mortally wounded.
“Truly, I give, and I give. And what do I get in return? Veiled threats and a look that says he’s contemplating setting me on fire, which frankly, is just rude considering I’m the Fire Fae.”
I smirked. “That’s how you know he likes you. If he hated you, you’d already be ash.”
He brightened. “Really? That’s encouraging.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I said, patting his shoulder. “It means he’s still thinking about it.”
“I enjoy a challenge, sweetheart. And besides, I’m fireproof.” A flame ignited in his palm to demonstrate his point.
“Oof.”
The sound drew our attention to the two men sparring in front of us. Callum lay on his back, Eamon’s sword pointed at his throat. He pushed it away with a snarl as he rose to his feet.
“Again,” Callum said.
“Oh, this is getting good.” Riordan grinned as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
I opened my mouth to deliver a sarcastic retort, but the noise that tore through the training yard silenced me mid-breath.
A wail.
The mournful sound sent shivers cascading through my body.
Then I heard it a second time.
My spine went rigid, and an icy rush of fear flooded my veins. My gaze darted around, desperately searching for the source.
The banshee had returned, and it could only mean one thing.
“Do you hear that?” I whispered.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” Riordan asked, his eyes never straying from Callum.
“Never mind.”
This warning was for me, and me alone.
The wail came again, more insistent this time, piercing through the clatter of practice swords and Callum’s frustrated grunts. I pressed my palms against my ears, but it did little to drown out the keening noise.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong? You look pale.” Riordan’s words sounded distant despite his closeness.
“Cadence?” Callum’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts.
He stared at me with furrowed brows, holding his wooden practice sword limply at his side.
I shook my head, forcing myself to stand. Riordan sprang to his feet, and Eamon’s calculating gaze shifted to me before sweeping the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger lurking nearby.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Riordan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart.”
I swallowed hard. The banshee’s cry came again, the sound thinner now, fading as it slipped back into the shadows.
