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I plant my feet, firm.

I mimic.

And a sharp wince cuts through me.

The edge of the blade leaves its mark on the meat of my palm; a crimson line crafted from dotted beads of blood. A small cut, barely there at all, and so I only cringe for a moment before I try again, and again, and again, until I don’t cut myself at all.

By that time, Ridge has followed the song of the blades all the way up to the roof.

I catch a glimmer of movement out the corner of my eye—and turn to see him at the panelled door. He sits himself on the edge of the stacked crates.

As our gazes lock, he gives a warm smile that earns a wave from me. He says nothing, just watches me through the rest of my training.

Even with a visitor, Dare stays as focused as an arrow spearing towards its target. There’s no slacking off around him. A flicker of his dark male side.

He only relents when he shoves me off the side of the roof and I catch myself on the lattice without dropping my dagger.

Time inches into the start of the First Wind when Dare flicks his hand—a gesture to sever the lesson.

I rush over to Ridge at the crates. He is quick to draw out a valerian stalk from the neckline of his brown leather armour.

I plant myself on a crate stacked full of heavy chains and fold my legs before I snatch the stalk and bring it to my lips.

Dare wanders closer, running a damp washcloth over his arms.

“Have you gone to see Bee yet?” I ask.

Ridge lights a second stalk.

“I told you.” A moody severity has Dare in its grip, as it has done all lesson. He throws me a gold gaze that swarms with a warning. “I’ll see her in Licht when she seeks shelter from the darkness.”

My eyes roll to the back of my head. “Then what?”

Ridge frowns through the vapours. He keeps his questions to himself.

Golden eyes thin on me. “I will ensure she repays the gold she stole from me—and torment her some.”

Ridge’s brows shoot up, and so I decide that Eamon didn’t fill him in on the latest.

Eamon was never as committed to gossip as the other litalves. Hybrids…

“How will you torment her?” Ridge asks and offers him the stalk, but Dare just shakes his head slightly. “True torture?”

His rosy mouth twists with doubt. “No.”

A scoff catches in my throat. “If you weren’t such a grouch this phase, I would ask what your aim is.”

He swerves his stare to me.

I shrug. My confusion is betrayed in that gesture and the downturn of my mouth. “If you’re at all interested in her, I don’t recommend scaring her. That’s all I will say.”

But not all I will think.

Daxeel made it his priority to ensure my confidence and security around him back when he loved me purely. He didn’t scare me, torment me, torture me. He fought his own primal instincts, tortured himself in that alone, all to ease me.

So I don’t understand Dare’s methods or his goal. And this vendetta he has on Bee, it’s more than that she stole his gold, it’s more than that she bested him at his own game.

He likes her.