“Where else would I go?” He tightened his hold on me, and I felt so safe it hurt. “I’m not leaving you now. Not ever, Hazel.”
I believed him, and that certainty was sweeter than all the chocolate I could make in my life.
14
Go Team
Brok
Barnaby landed the last box jump with both feet planted, and straightened his back like a gymnast. After my months of trying to get him fit again, the sight was almost unbelievable. “Did you see, Brok?” he cried, clutching his paws to his chest. “I did it!”
“You did, yes. Forty-three seconds.” I held up my phone so he could see the timer. Twelve seconds faster than last week, which meant he could handle the delivery routes without collapsing halfway through.
“I could keep going,” he said, as if he’d just had an epiphany. “I feel like I could train for another hour. This is amazing.”
It was more than amazing. It was life-altering, for everything and everyone. Even the Iron Grove was unusually cheerful this morning. My go-to makeshift gym had always been a place for induced suffering, but today, the sun seemed brighter. The birds chirped more loudly. The moss glowed, and even the tree branches rustled a little differently. It was all because of Barnaby.
A week ago, three box jumps would have destroyed him. Now he wanted more. There was only one explanation.
The flat cakes had worked. Barnaby’s power as the Herald of Spring was coming back. We had a chance at winning the Challenge. But now wasn’t the time to drop our guard.
Hazel sat cross-legged on one of my weight benches with her phone out. She was probably already planning something. Having her here in my training space felt like watching two separate parts of my life finally connect. With her hair tied back and those small marks I’d left on her neck still visible, she was more beautiful than ever. She’d been with us every step of the way, and I loved her for it.
I dragged my attention back to Barnaby. “You’re making good progress. Your form is clean. We can start building real power instead of just trying to survive each session.”
“Because I’m not exhausted all the time.” His whole face was bright with genuine enthusiasm. There was no sign of the forced optimism he’d been faking for months. Just honest joy. “I woke up this morning and wanted to practice delivery routes for fun, Brok. When was the last time I did anything for fun?”
Probably when he’d been taste-testing things for Hazel. It was, at least in part, my fault. But we were getting better at it, and that meant everything.
Hazel pulled a water bottle from her bag and passed it to Barnaby without his asking. She’d been watching us train long enough now to know when he’d need it. Something about that casual attention made my throat feel tight. Nobody had ever paid that kind of attention to my training sessions before.
“All right, as thankful as we are for Brok’s weird meat cookies, we need to take this further,” she said. “I have a plan to—”
Before Hazel could unleash the full force of her creativity on us, the air started to ripple. The forest around us groaned, and a portal opened right in the middle of the Iron Grove. Grix fell through face-first, his tablet flying from his hands and skittering across the moss.
It wasn’t unusual for Grix to travel through portals, but he never arrived like this. He was never chaotic or unprepared. Something must have gone seriously wrong. But what?
Grix scrambled to his feet with his suit jacket twisted sideways. His hands were shaking badly enough that I could see the tremor from across the grove. He snatched up the tablet and stabbed at the screen so hard I expected it to shatter.
“Impossible!” His voice climbed higher with each word, hitting that pitch that usually preceded his threatening to quit. His glasses were askew, but he didn’t seem to notice. “The Joy Coefficient jumped twenty-five points overnight. Twenty-five! That doesn’t happen! Someone’s tampering with the data, or—”
He looked up from his tablet and froze completely.
Every muscle in his small body went rigid. His mouth fell open. His claws dug into the tablet case hard enough that I heard plastic crack. He’d just noticed Hazel, and I braced for the screaming that was about to happen.
“There is a human in the Iron Grove.” Each syllable came out slowly and evenly, as if he was testing the words for poison. “Brok, there is a human woman who can see all of this.”
It was probably not a good idea to taunt him now, but I was in too good a mood to let him get to me. “As observant as ever, Grix. And her name is Hazel.”
“I don’t care about her name!” The screech probably scared birds three dimensions over. His hands were still shaking as he shoved his glasses back up his nose. “You brought an unaffiliated civilian into supernatural space. Do you understand what you’ve done? There are reasons why humans aren’t allowed to interact with our world.”
Yes, and all of them were good. It was dangerous, both for them and for us. But only if the human in question didn’t belong with us. And Hazel obviously did.
He was spiraling into full panic mode, which meant he was about to start listing specific regulations and penalty clauses. We didn’t have time for this.
Hazel stood and walked over to Grix with unhurried calm. No fear, no hesitation, as if panicking kobolds were just another Tuesday morning for her. Watching her move with that steady confidence made me want to kiss her senseless. It also made me realize she was braver than most people I’d fought beside in the Steppe.
She pulled a small white box from her bag. “Brok told me you liked my protein bites. Here. Try this.”
