Page 30 of Mystique of the Fallen
“I don’t know what to do,” Roman whispered.
“Come with us,” Conley encouraged, putting a little space between them.
Roman focused on Conley’s gold gaze and nodded. His legs were wobbly, but he took a step toward the door. He turned his head and took one last look at the beautiful brunet lying supine on the bed. Grant was dressed in all black, and Roman’s senses shouted that he was an immortal fallen knight, but his heart and mind remained confused. Roman had worried for him, but it was futile. Grant had already suffered the end of his life.
Now, what the fuck should Roman do? Pretend they’d never met? Bewildered, Roman allowed himself to be led out of the room. He’d allow Grant to have his training without the heavy weight of a new matebond. It was space Roman imagined he’d need as well. As much as he’d feared something happening to Grant, not in his wildest dreams had he imagined the next time they met, his mate would be a fallen knight.
Chapter 12
Fallen Knight Rank 1 Grant Valerius flashed a nervous grin as he stood in a gym with the leaders of his race and Lich Sentinel Alaric Daray. The tall man with the glowing green eyes stared at Grant without blinking. It was unnerving—even for a man resurrected to defend and protect.
Although Grant had only been brought to life a week ago, he’d already learned the difference between fallen knights and sentinels. The Arch Lich had created the fallen knights in the likeness of the sentinels in many aspects, but the Lich Sentinel’s people were elite assassins with an uncompromising code of honor.
Their dagger skills were also unparalleled, and for some reason, the Lich Sentinel had decided he’d spar with Grant that morning. Grant shifted his booted feet and hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself.
“Good morning, Lich Sentinel,” Grant chirped as the Lich Sentinel stalked toward him in a uniform of charcoal gray. With the help of a bit of the magic that was innate to sentinels, a two-toned poison flowed around the man’s blades.
“Good morning,” the Lich Sentinel replied without inflection. Grant noted that he was a handsome guy. Like the men he ruled, Alaric had hair that lay haphazardly on his forehead. It was rumored that few sentinels bothered to comb their tresses. The newly resurrected sentinels training alongside Grant boasted of their desire not to ever purchase a brush or anything close to it.
Grant was amused that they were so proud of something that mundane, but he’d decided he wouldn’t borrow the custom. He preferred to follow the model of the other fallen knights and start his day with his hair tamed. It was a small thing to decide, but Grant was embracing every aspect of the life he’d been given. He woke each morning with a smile and an eagerness to get as much as he could out of the day.
“So, Lich Sentinel, I guess we’re going to spar,” Grant said, his feet moving of their own accord as he wilted slightly under the direct stare of the Lich Sentinel.
Grateful that he was on the same side of justice as Alaric, Grant took a calming breath and internally lectured himself on keeping his shit together. He was doing great so far as a fallen knight. His test scores were nearly perfect, and he’d acquitted himself well in the gym. Grant had earned the praise of the Reverent Knights and two of the Venerable Knights.
The third Venerable Knight—Roman Calixtus—had yet to appear at the Ascension Center. Although it was apparently customary for the entire leadership of the fallen knights to be involved in the training of new recruits, duty had forced VK Calixtus to stay at headquarters. It was a bummer since Grant wanted to embrace this rare opportunity to work with his superiors daily, but he also understood that crime didn’t take a break.
“Wrong,” Alaric finally replied. “You will wave your daggers around, and I’ll instruct you on your every mistake so that someday you will have the ability to spar with me. In the gym, you may call me Alaric. There is no need for formality unless tradition dictates it.”
Grant gulped. “Okay?”
“You should get your daggers out of the holster to start.”
With a chuckle at his foolishness for not even having his blades out, Grant did as he was told. “Check. Okay, what next?”
“You have your thumb wrapped around the hilt. I did not expect that. So many fallen knights start by holding their daggers incorrectly. If it were possible for you to lose limbs, the entire gymnasium floor would be littered with spare fingers hacked off by the sentinels teaching fallen knights.”
“Well, I’m glad I impressed you.”
A black brow rose as Alaric plucked his daggers from his sides, and the glow of his poisons disappeared. Every sentinel removed their poisons when facing off with fallen knights who lacked the ability to add such a thing to their own blades.
From what Grant had read, it was a show of respect to fallen knights and an important part of the comradery and closeness of both races. Reading was something Grant did for hours after his classes were done for the day. Thankfully, he had the lone single dorm, and he invested all his time in being the best damn fallen knight possible.
“I did not say I was impressed,” Alaric commented. “But I’ve heard you are doing well in both your physical and mental tests thus far.”
“It’s only been a week since my resurrection, but I want to crush it.”
“With hard work, you can accomplish anything you wish. Except, of course, to be as exceptional with your daggers as a sentinel.”
Grant laughed. “Trust me, I know. I thought I was badass, then I faced a sentinel. It was a humbling I needed to remind myself that I should always give my best.”
“A sound notion. And while I appreciate that you wish to confide in me as if we are old friends, you should do more than hold those daggers in your sweaty palms.”
“Right,” Grant muttered. “Just hack away at the Lich Sentinel.”
Alaric shook his head slowly. “Use your daggers with grace, purpose, and honor. We do nothack awayat people.”
“Sure, sure, sure,” Grant said, waving one of the blades in his hand. “You want me to just…?”
