“I get it.” Lyklan holds up his hands.
“No swords yet,” Malach says. “Only dodging.”
Celine nods. Striding back to the center of the room, she drives her heel into the mangled practice dummy and sends it crashing into the wall. Necessary? Maybe not, but the massive scuff on the white wall gives me enough depth perception to know where the damn thing is now.
Malach doesn’t comment on the broken dummy or the gouge. He lifts his hands to chest-level and raises his eyebrows. “Ready?”
Celine’s eyes flash, and she makes a come-get-me gesture that sends blood rushing straight to my cock. “I was born ready.”
Malach flicks his wrist, and a small, golden ball of magic flies at Celine.
She steps aside and lets it crash into the wall, planting her hands on her hips as it explodes behind her. “That was small and slow, Malach, don’t fucking baby me?—”
The next spell is twice as big and three times as fast. She rolls on the floor, doing a somersault toavoid it, before coming up grinning. “That’s more like it,” she says, shoving a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Malach hurls half a dozen blasts at Celine, one after the other. She leaps over them, treating the attacks like balls she’s dodging in gym class. One second, she’s avoiding with ease, and the next, she stops trying.
The blast hits her in the stomach. She groans, wrapping one arm around her waist and dodging the next one.
I’m on my feet a heartbeat later, but Alistair is quicker. Moving so fast he blurs; he scoops Celine up and carries her to the far side of the room before I can blink.
“What the fuck, Malach?” Luca presses his hand to his stomach.
“Enough,” Celine snaps. “That was a test, for me and the rest of you.” Ignoring the enraged red gleam in Ali’s eyes, she taps the side of his neck until he reluctantly puts her down. “I needed to remember how it feels to take a radiant hit and stay on my feet. And I have to be able to trust you all to stay put when it happens.”
Luca groans. “Baby, we’ve seen you get hurt too many times. You’re asking us to ignore our instincts.”
Celine nods, but her expression softens. “I am. And you’ve got to do it, or you’ll get us all killed. Traditional dueling rules are clear: outside interference means death for the one who steps in and the person they tried to help.”
“You could have explained that first,” Alistair hisses. “We’re capable of adapting if you give us the chance.”
Celine considers that and tosses a glance at Malach. “I know that, Ali, but I thought if I warned you, Malach wouldn’t throw it.”
The sound of his name unlocks Malach from where he’s been frozen since the blast hit Celine. Slowly and silently, he walks over to her and raises her shirt, revealinga bruise the size of a softball. Deep crimson streaks, shaped like a rune I’ve never seen before, wind through the mottled purple splotches.
Malach examines the mark and drops her shirt.
“Well?” Celine nudges his shoulder. “Will I live?”
All emotion leeches from his expression. He turns his back on her and returns to his original spot. “You’re up, Riven.”
I taste fear, but it’s not coming from Celine.
FORTY-FIVE
Unspoken Rule of the Fringes #47:
There’s no such thing as an apex supernatural.
LUCA
A switch flips in Malach.
He’s awake, alert, and normal-looking, but there’s an aloofness about him that I haven’t seen since the monster realm. It’s not the same as when he would tune out during his headaches. It is concerning, though.
Celine says his name, and he looks at her immediately. “You’re upset,” she whispers. “Tell me why.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
