With his ferret still slumped around his neck, Malcolm paced to each group, introducing them to their specific trainer, himself taking the first group he named Vanguard.
Naveah Islad was assigned to the Sentinel group. The head of the castle’s armory, she appeared to be about sixty years old. I’d only interacted with her once, in the dining room, and I’d found her quiet. But she spoke to everyone with respect, and as a recruit, I’d appreciated that. Her fluffy gray cat companion lounged across her arm, its tail dangling, swishing.
The recruits in the Warden group nodded to Nia, who started in right away, crisply explaining the rules while Malcolm walked toward us. Stopping in front of us, he rocked on his heels and waved to an older man waiting near the wall. Before the man could reach us, a door behind our group groaned open on iron hinges.
A gust of cold air swept through the room, brushing the back of my neck like a lover’s warning.
I felt him before I saw him. The same as the pressure drop before lightning splits the sky.
When Trew stepped into the hall, he looked like sin forged into black leather armor, his cinderhawk a whisper of wings behind him.
Our eyes met, and it hit like a punch in the chest.
He didn’t smirk at first. He just looked at me. Like he was trying to solve a riddle he couldn’t name. LikeIwas the answer and the curse all at once. Something unreadable passed through his gaze. Want, maybe. Regret. I could see both.
Then the smirk came, a blade dressed as a smile, and I didn’t like how my belly clenched, how I couldn’t forget what it felt like to be in his arms.
He moved across the room like a shadow loosed from the edge of the world, his cinderhawk swooping above him. His black leathersmolded his muscular frame, and the wind tousled his hair. I couldn’t even find fault with the dark stubble speckling his jaw. Power simmered around him.
He passed close enough for the heat of him to catch on my skin, the brief graze of his shoulder sending a jolt through me. A match struck too close to the heart. My thoughts scattered like startled birds.
He reached Malcolm’s side, and they spoke low together.
With a curt nod, Malcolm strode over to the man he’d intended to lead our group. I suspected there had been a change in assignment, and I ground my teeth together to hold back my protest.
Trew’s gaze locked on mine. “I’ll be leading the Striker group.” He fed me that damned sneer that both irked me and made me ache to run my fingers through his hair. Drag his head down to mine.
As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, his smirk widened.
I suspected he knew exactly how to ruin me, and he was only biding his time until he could do it.
Heat bloomed low in my spine.
He didn’t look away. Not once. Not when Malcolm handed him the reins. Not when the others shifted awkwardly under the weight of his presence.
And fates help me, I was watching him right back.
The memory of his mouth on mine throbbed like blood beneath my skin. I’d spent the entire morning building walls to hold it back, and he shattered them by walking into the room.
I wanted to be angry. Ishouldbe angry. But instead, I was unraveling again, quietly, completely.
And the worst part?
He looked like a man who regretted kissing me.
But also like one who was planning to do it again.
28
TREW
Stone groaned beneath my boots as new training room walls rose around us. Iron braces clanked into place, reinforcing the thick white stone as it climbed, encircling us, separating the Striker group from the others in the training hall.
With a flick of my fingers, the walls sealed.
Weapons hung on the fresh wall racks: blades, staffs, and magic-forged tools that could do considerable damage in the right hands. Four sparring mats remained in the center, set up in a rectangle.
Malcolm hadn’t blinked when I told him I’d be taking this group myself, but he wouldn’t. It wasn’t that unusual for me to work with fresh warriors. I needed to keep my skills as sharp as he and everyone else did.
