Drystan answered smoothly, but there was steel in his tone. “Then we finish it.”
A slow, thoughtful hum left Kyron’s throat. He studied each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Sorcha. “Interesting,” he murmured.
Sorcha stiffened slightly, but before she could ask what he meant, Eirin cut in.
“Restraint is what keeps us alive,” he said firmly. “It’s what keeps this world from turning into a battlefield.”
Kyron exhaled, his gaze flicking to the others before settling back on Sorcha. Finally, he nodded once.
“Understood.”
Drystan stood and headed for the bar. A moment later, he returned with a bottle and a stack of glasses. He spun the bottle once in his hand, then flicked it into the air with a grin. It turned midair, caught the tavern light, and landed in his grip clean as a practiced trick. He poured withflair, glass by glass, letting each stream fall just short of overflowing. With a dramatic bow, he dropped into his seat.
Mason whistled, then clapped twice. “Show off,” Eirin muttered with a laugh.
The rest of the group joined in, clapping and calling out as Drystan soaked it all in.
“Thank you, thank you. You’re all too kind,” he said, raising his glass. “Let’s make it official.”
Sorcha and the others raised theirs.
“Alright, Kyron—on three, we tap the glass and drink as fast as you can.”
“It’s tradition,” Rhosyn said, grinning. “You’re one of us now. That means no mercy.”
Mason chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t wait to see what kind of drunk you are.”
Eirin gave Kyron a quiet look. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Sorcha nudged him with her elbow. “Ready?”
Kyron laughed. “I think you’re all in for a surprise.”
“That’s the spirit, lover boy!” Drystan called. “One… two… three!”
Glasses slammed against the table. Laughter burst from every corner, and the night carried them deep into the early hours.
Chapter 30
The Elk
The next morning, Sorcha and the others reported under Skyfall as usual. To her surprise, Kyron was already there with the group, dressed in a gray and brown shirt with the Circle’s insignia embroidered on the sleeves. He was talking and laughing with the others when she approached, greeting them all with a cheerful, “Good morning.”
Commander Nethran stood nearby, he had slight limp in his step and as he addressed the group he kept a hand on his side.
“I’m sure you’ve all figured out by now that Kyron has officially joined our Circle. I know there’s much we’d like to discuss about what happened at the festival, and as much as I’d like to give you answers, I don’t have them yet.” His tone was measured but firm.
“What I can tell you,” he continued, “is that in the coming weeks, we will be careful and vigilant about everything that happens. I want every single detail accounted for.”
The group exchanged glances, a mixture of determination and unease passing through them. Sorcha’s eyes met Kyron’s briefly, and she saw in his expression the same resolve she felt. Commander Nethran divided the group for patrols:
Rhosyn and Kyron
