Fate should have bought us dinner before shafting us in the ass with its lore and declarations.
Viper pinned the High King with a glare. “My people stay together. You will not separate my team, because we have always been stronger together. If you want our help, then we use our strongest asset—our unity.”
Oisín nodded. “You’ll train as a cohesive band. The bond between warriors matters to all, and we understand it well. It’s what makes you strong.”
“Right.” Kaze cracked his knuckles. “Guess we’re signing up for Mythical Warrior Boot Camp. Someone warn anyone who needs to know that I don’t do mornings without at least a gallon of coffee.”
“You don’t do anything before coffee,” Zero muttered.
“Exactly,” Kaze muttered. “And we have none.”
“If you explain this ‘coffee’ to me,” Fionn said slowly, “our magic will be able to reproduce it here.”
“If you can magic me up coffee,” Kaze rubbed his hands together, “then I’m yours to command, my liege.”
“Rí.” Trace smacked Kaze on the back of the head. “Liege is some medieval or Norman shite. In the Fianna, you say mo Rhí.”
“Muh ree.” Kaze dutifully repeated.
“Close enough.”
“About that coffee?”
Viper exhaled through his nose and glared at Kaze. “I’ll bring him the instant stuff I have, maybe he can reverse build a coffee plant or the beans if he has that.”
Shit. What did I say that for?
“Uh, Boss,” Juice grumbled. “Are you telling me you brought your coffee stash and didn’t share?” He turned to Trace. “Viper is an asshole. Off with his head, mate.”
Viper pinched his fingers into the corners of his eyes at the bridge of his nose. “Alright. We’ll do what needs doing, and I’ll share my damn coffee.”
Fionn nodded, then looked toward Ward. “And you? Grá Croí of the chieftain, do you stand in this?”
Ward hesitated—half a second—but that was all. “I’ll do what I can,” he said quietly. “But I have no clue what I’m doing, so I’m going to need instructions. Because bowing down to fate, if I have a choice, is going to be difficult for me.”
You and me both, Grá Croí. You and me both.
“Follow your instincts.” Fionn smiled as if that pleased him. “Fate will not ask you for more than you are willing to give.” He nodded to them all, then turned and strode away.
The great hall emptied around them with the low shuffle of boots and the murmur of warriors returning to their routines, but Viper remained at the table for a breath longer than necessary, his fingers tapping out a restless beat on the carved oak. Ward didn’t move either. He sat with his hands braced on his thighs, shoulders taut as if he waited for Viper to decide what came next.
When they finally rose, it was in perfect sync. Neither spoke until they were clear of the hall and were out beneath the vast blue-gray sky that hovered over Dun Fianna. They walked back toward the lake.
“How’re you doing?” he asked Ward without looking at him. “Okay?”
Ward gave a half-laugh that didn’t quite make it to humor. “Define okay.”
Viper snorted, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Fucked if I know what okay is anymore. Let’s just change that to, are you still vertical and breathing?”
“For now. I think.”
“Then you’re ahead of the curve.”
They stopped halfway across the bridge to their crannóg. The wind rolled over the water, lifting the edge of Ward’s shirt and sending ripples across the surface of the lake. He braced both hands on the rope railing and stared down into the mirrored darkness. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Act like this is normal. Like we didn’t just get sucked into a world that’s not ours and then get told our world and this one are unraveling, and it might be our fault.”
