“Would’ve been nice to know that before I touched it,” Oliver grumbled, clutching his hand.
Then a sneaky smile spread across his face as he stared at the burns.
His next excuse to see Sam.
“Ichi.” I touched her shoulder. “It wasn’t anything against you. And this time, I’d love for you to join me in battle.”
She picked up her sword and straightened, looking appeased. Unlike the two males, who seemed anything but happy about my declaration.
“Ronen’s never going to let us.”
“You don’t know what they’re capable of.”
Oliver and Aspen talked over each other, telling me things I didn’t want to hear and already knew.
“We are not powerless. Everyone in the Tormentors has skill, which they’ve proved in the demon matches, the challenges, and these fights,” I said, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. When I turned to face the half of my squad that continued to test me, I decided to be straight with them. “Our only issue is working as a team and listening because you don’t see me as a leader. But out there, we wouldn’t have the luxury of not listening to each other.” I gestured to the arena’s floor-length windows overlooking the forests. “Unless we want to die or be turned.”
Aspen’s disapproving expression shifted, narrowing the slightest bit. Oliver pulled at his hair, looking ready to argue against me, just like Dusty and Matt.
But the others watched me. Considered me.
“Do you want to help save Hell?” I asked.
Matt scoffed. “Not particularly.”
Dusty shifted on his feet. But Zera, Enora, Rissa, Valarus, and Ichi held eager anticipation in their expressions.
This was my chance.
Not only to earn their respect, but to come together and help protect our home.
“The general won’t allow us,” Ichi insisted.
I lifted my chin and crossed my arms. “I’ll deal with the general.”
Then I leveled each of my squad members one by one.
“But if you’re with me, prepare yourself. Training wheels come off tomorrow. And Ichi, meet me at the dungeons in an hour.”
She still wanted to see her sister, and I’d make that happen.
After training, I left with Oliver and Aspen. Awkward tension followed us down the red-carpeted halls. They both looked like they were holding their tongues, wanting to say something about my declaration but probably knowing it wouldn’t go well.
The tension slightly eased when a smile broke across Oliver’s face, and he split off toward the healers’ wing with a short wave.
“He should just tell Sam how he feels,” I said, hoping to break the awkward silence.
Aspen remained quiet.
Or not.
We walked down the hall and up a few flights of stairs, and it wasn’t until we arrived at our rooms that he finally spoke.
“He’s scared to make it real and lose something he isn’t sure he has,” he murmured softly.
The warmth from the sconces lit the drawn planes of his profile.
He stretched and fisted his hands, something I’d noticed him doing to silence the tremors when his emotions became so big they seeped through his mental block.
