Page 11 of Trial of Three
I push Shade away, wondering if embarrassment could, in fact, be fatal. “Could you two stop smelling me? And each other? And, just, stop smelling.”
A corner of Shade’s mouth twitches. “How will we know anything about you if we do that?”
“You could ask.”
“Oh, aye,” Tye says, rolling his eyes. “Because that worked out well when I asked after your limp a wee bit ago.”
Shade’s gaze narrows on me, the predatory intent so potent that my heart skips a beat, then quickens in warning. Before I can take defensive measures, he snakes an arm beneath my knees and—ignoring my gasp—lifts me onto his lap.
A low, velvet chuckle brushes the back of my neck as Shade settles me possessively against him. The heat of his large body wraps around me like a blanket, his arms encircling my shoulders and rubbing with heartbreaking gentleness along my bruised and sore flesh. Not healing magic, but a power of a different sort seeps through me, filling me with the male’s warmth. “Howdidtraining go, cub?”
My hand tightens on my fork and I strategically bite into a cube of watermelon, buying a few seconds to conjure an answer. Or better yet, to shove Coal into explaining exactly how flaying himself open was the new prize training strategy.
“It went fine,” Coal says finally, slicing through the thickening silence. In his usual sleeveless black tunic and matching pants, the warrior wraps darkness around himself so tightly that there is no telling where one ends and the other begins.
I glare at him.
Coal raises his chin, challenging me to say anything different. Under his skin, lean muscles shift in movements so familiar that it’s all I can do to evict the sudden memory of his bare, sweat-slicked torso from my thoughts.
Tye takes a long swig of wine. “Well, Coal is a perpetual optimist, so there is that to consider.”
Coal drains his wine cup, nothing of what truly happened visible in his eyes. Centuries of experience concealing the truth, even from his quint brothers, pays its dividends in his steady gaze and confident posture. “Right elbow, lower left ribs, left thigh just above the knee,” he says, jerking his chin at me while looking at Shade. “I realize magic isn’t an option, but if you’ve salve, use it.”
My mouth opens. With my body one giant ache, Coal’s accounting is keener than my own would have been. I left him alone and shaking on the sand, while he kept tabs on my bruises. Stars. Before Coal spoke, I doubted the male had been aware of even landing the strikes, much less which of them left the deepest marks.
Coal catches my gaze. “I choose my targets, mortal. And I hit what I aim for.” He rises, his plate now empty. “A skill you’d do well to improve upon before next week.” Turning to the table, Coal gives a nod to Kora—his equivalent of a salute for luck—and strides out of the dining hall.
* * *
My hands are shackled,pinned high enough over my head to make my shoulders scream. There is no key. The qoru’s touch makes the metal rust clean through when it’s time to release the hold—until then, there is no escape. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
A dream. This is a dream and I want to wake up. Need to wake up.
The overseer kicks my legs apart, the smell of blazing metal strong enough to overpower the stench of decay. I know that’s impossible, but fear toys with my senses. Lashes are better than burns. Anything is better than burns. But I know there is no hope. These won’t be the qoru’s usual games, not today.
Wake up, wake up, wake up. I dig a fingernail into my palm. Wake up. Please.
The overseer snatches up a white-hot rod. Today is punishment.
I gasp awake, my body shaking, the bedding around me soaked with sweat. In the aftershocks of the nightmare, dream wraiths of mottled gray skin and round, lipless mouths drink their final fills of my terror. My heart pounds, my breath stretching my lungs.
A wet lupine tongue laps the inside of my ear, soft, worried yips brushing my soul. Outside, the Citadel bell tolls two hours past midnight. The middle of the night. As if I would dare return to sleep now.
I push myself up, hissing as my bruised muscles are forced into motion. Not the pleasant type of soreness that follows a heavy workout, but the deep hurt that seizes each motion, despite the salve Shade gently spread over my skin before shifting back into his wolf. All courtesy of the same source as the nightmare.
The wolf whines softly, prodding me with his snout.
“I’m all right,” I mutter, trying and failing to shove two hundred pounds of animal away from me. If I’m not careful, Shade will damn the consequences and shift back into fae form just to heal my hurts. To care for me, like all the males do in their own way.
Like Coal did in the paddock this morning.
“I left him,” I whisper, my heart squeezing.
The wolf blinks at me in sleepy confusion and tries to lick my ear again.
I swallow, wriggling off the bed, my blue nightshirt brushing my thighs. I left Coal shaking on his knees while echoes of his power still raced through my veins. I was unhappy about his tactics, his choices, and so Ileft. Stars.
No more. Enough of them doing what’s best for me. It’s time I did what’s best forthem. Starting with Coal.
