Page 157 of The Gods Order

Then we run.

Yemi and her group position themselves in basically an identical formation.

Sound and sight.

I mentally murmur everyone’s names again, and honestly, I believe I’m just going to continue doing so. It really does make me lock in on them and keep them at the forefront of my thoughts.

“Very good. From this point on, don’t drop your power and just do as I say,” Val shouts. “Thayla and Yemi, switch spots.”

Creed and Gladian part for me and I run through them, smiling at Yemi as she races to get to the middle of my men’s formation. A chuckle falls from my chest as Sevryn shoves me as I pass him.

“Good idea, Sevryn.” Val laughs. “Everyone distract them.”

Ah, fuck.

Valories, the noise.

I don’t know what my men, V, Gladian, and Mara decided to do as their distractions, but Doren, Nero, Iric, Barir, Vullie, and Prath talk at once. Fucking Sevryn keeps poking me.

Running, concentrating, being touched, and hearing nothing but damn babbling is far more difficult than you think.

I’m about to scream, I’m so overstimulated.

“Both of you are flickering. Tighten your holds on those connections,” Val yells.

Son of a bitch.

I shove out a bit more of my power and home in on the connections.

Everything going on around me is very overwhelming, but the funniest and most comforting thing happening is listening to Meridamus give Lambrit, Rose, and Havar a play-by-play of what we’re doing.

“Everyone, go grab a sword, pair up, and start sparring,” Val says.

Shit…I see what he’s doing.

The realization hits me square in my chest. These aren’t just random crazy-ass exercises at all.

Instead of pairing with my men, Mara, or Gladian, I race toward Yemi in the center of the Court. She’s taking slow, deep breaths as she gets her grip right on her sword.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Fuck, I’m tired of running.”

“Same.” I chuckle, then lower my voice. “You see what he’s doing, right?”

“Yeah, torturing us.”

Possibly a little.

“He’s preparing us. We might get separated. We might have to run or even fight,” I say, shaking my sword at her and her gaze widens. “He’s making sure we can hold the connections no matter what’s happening around us.”

“Damn. I hate how much sense that makes,” she huffs and hangs her head. “That’s why he hasn’t moved on to us separating power yet. We’ve got to get this as perfect as possible first.”

“Yep,” I say.

“Well, then”—she sighs and rolls her shoulders out—“I guess let’s do that.”

Our swords collide between us and our dance begins.