“Hazel, what the fuck did you do to my cupboard!” Dean’s voice echoes through the halls, and an evil cackle escapes me. When his thundering footsteps follow, I turn and skip out the door. I hate to admit it, but starting my day messing with Dean gets my blood pumping.
Dean has longed for a mate his whole life, but he’s about to realize it’s not a gift; the Fates cursed him with him.
Warmth settles over me as I step into the sun. Two icy moons fade behind me as a cool breeze wraps around me, pairing perfectly with the warmth on my face.
The Tetrad kingdom is probably my favorite place in the universe. I could say it’s because this is the only realm where I know I’m completely safe from my past, but it’s not just that. It’s the weather, my people, the beautiful architecture surrounding me.
This kingdom may be divided into four parts—Conquer, War, Famine, and Death—but their hearts are forever united. I never felt that kind of bond in Eldoris. All that place ever made me feel was cold and detached.
Here, for once, I can breathe.
As I walk toward the training field, I cringe at how everyone bows the second they see me. It’s unsettling, the way elders smile at me, or kids wave like they’re excited to see me. I return the kids’ smile… or my version of one, and ignore the adults.
There was a time when people were scared to look me in the eye, but ever since Dean opened his big mouth and announced I was his mate, my reputation has taken a hit. Now everyone thinks I’m fucking approachable.
I don’t know why everyone’s so relieved I’m Dean’s mate, considering I’ve been glaring and grunting my way through this kingdom since the first day I came here.
I can’t believe these people think I’m going to be the Queen of Death. The idea is honestly laughable. I’m not even a proper siren, how the hell am I supposed to be a queen?
Even if, by some miracle, I were crowned the Queen, at least Iwouldn’t have to endure the throne for too long. Nevaeh, Dean’s younger daughter and one of my closest friends, will soon take over as the Horsewoman of Death and the first female Grim Reaper.
Sometimes it feels strange that Dean’s daughters are closer to my age, but to be fair, he had Nevaeh when he was just seventeen, and Grace was already a teenager when he adopted her.
The Blackburn family has a habit of defying nature. Both the girls landed in Dean’s lap by strange miracles.
As I near the training field, the sound of children screeching reaches me. I still remember how I ran in like my tail was on fire when I heard the ear-piercing screams on my first day as the trainer. The parents gave me strange looks, but I was genuinely worried the kids were in danger.
It took me a while to realize kids scream like they’re being chased by zombies for fun.
A hush falls over the group as I step onto the training ground, rolling my shoulders and preparing to stretch.
Last year, Anxo asked me if I’d be willing to train kids between the ages of ten and sixteen who wanted to become warriors. I won’t lie, I was reluctant at first. I barely know how to deal with adults, and I was convinced I’d sent the kids crying on their first day.
I never would’ve guessed our training sessions would become the talk of the kingdom. Kids take constructive criticism betterthan adults. They’re eager to learn, and by some miracle, they think I’m funny. The older ones say dark humor is trending, so my grumbling counts as entertainment.
Kids are weird.
Last year, Anxo received requests from all over the realms asking to send their kids to me, but I don’t want to change things and risk losing this slice of peace.
The kids know the process by heart, so they quickly choose opponents and line up for one-on-one duels. Every Wednesday, we test what they’ve learned and put it to the test. I have no idea why they still love Wednesdays, since most of them are humbled by my criticism by the end of the day.
Luke, a sixteen-year-old elf, stands across Asha, a fourteen-year-old weredragon. She’s smaller, but fast enough to rival his strength.
Asha moves behind Luke, planning a morally dicey move, and kicks him in the back harder than he expects. Luke’s sword hits the ground as he drops to his knees. He recovers quickly, but the damage is done.
“Come on, Luke! Even Gale could’ve seen that coming.” The ten-year-old demon spawn laughs beside me, raising his fist. I bump my knuckles against his without looking, smirking when I catch his face light up from the corner of my eye.
For some reason, the kids get really excited every time I bump fists or pat their shoulders. My chest aches at the pride on their faces. They don’t take it lightly, and it makes it easier to drop my guard around them.
When Luke stays down, drowning in self-pity, I step between them. Asha swings her sword once before sheathing it behind her back, not missing the chance to show off. I nod in approval, but when I turn to Luke, his disappointment hangs heavy in the air.
“Hand it over.” he hesitates, then passes me the sword. I swing it twice before driving it into the sand. “Your weapon should feel like an extension of your body. Dropping it should feel like losing a limb. Knowing how to use it is a start. Making it a part of you is the goal.”
Luke watches silently, shame flashing in his eyes.
I tilt my head. “Why did you choose a sword?”
The kid rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I thought it looked cool.” When I raise a brow, he groans and kicks the sand. “I know. It’s stupid.”
