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“You wantto trainme?”

How had neither she, Piper, or Vesstan noticed he was watching them from somewhere close by?

Her cheeks suddenly burned with shame. Maker, he’d seen her crying, knew how broken she was inside, even though she tried to hide it from everyone, and that was fuel for him.

He stepped into the orange firelight, and her heart beat even faster. Everything about him was power, from his prowl, to the curve of his strong jaw, the fierceness in his garnet eyes. His magic slithered out of him, whispering against her skin, making her want to run—and draw closer at once.

“Who better than the god of magic to teach you about magic? And start calling me Hel. If you call me the Black Mage one more time, I might seal both of your mouths shut.” He gave Piper a once over. “The dragon prince is the obvious choice.”

“Why do you want to train me?” she asked, getting his attention back on her. She didn’t want him assessing Piper as a threat and doing something about it.

His tongue dragged over his lower lip, and he smirked. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m intelligent enough to keep up.”

“I need Valeen. You’re only a shell of her. You’re weak and clueless, and that makes you a detriment to yourself and me.”

Layala slowly tugged on the pouch strings, loosening the opening to the one thing that could weaken him. “In other words, you can’t have someone kill me before you get what you want?”

“Precisely. Which leads me to my next question; why haven’t you found the writer slandering you in the newspaper and snapped his neck yet? The writer for thePalenor Scrollis putting unnecessary targets on your back. Stirring up the hive.”

“Excuse me?”

He took a step closer. “Why haven’t you put that little bitch princess in her place? Are you going to sit back and allowThaneto do everything for you?”

Layala stepped away, wide-eyed. How could he know about Talon? Did he find the notes in her room?

“I heard about your adventure to the dragon court months back. They even built a statue of you. Well, a new one anyway.” He looked her up and down. “It appears to be undeserved.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” she snapped. “And killing someone because they write lies in a gossip paper is lunacy. I don’t care what anyone says about me.”

“You don’t?” He chuckled. “After the waterworks back there,” he hooked his thumb down the path behind him, “you certainly had me convinced you do. What I don’t understand is why. The Valeen I know would never—”

“I’m not Valeen anymore. Get that through your head.”

“I can see that. War said you can’t remember anything. Is that true?”

Layala inspected his face, the thin white scar across his chin, the other line through the outer corner of his thick dark right brow, the near-black hair that brushed against his collar, curled slightly on his forehead and was long enough to just cover the pointed tips of his ears. It had grown since the tower.

He didn’t wear braids or typical elven-styled hair. In fact, other than his inherent beauty he didn’t look much like an elf at all. Black rune marks of various sizes peeked out from under the collar of his neck, the tops of his hands and even one longer swirling tattoo marked the length of his left ring finger. But no, there was nothing familiar about him, nothing to remember.

“Yes, that’s true.”

He rolled his eyes, and Layala scowled at him.

“Come then.” He turned and started back toward the stone circle. “We have work to do.”

Layala lifted her chin slightly and stood firm. “I’m not training with you.” The very idea of it was absurd, but then again, this would give her a chance to get him with the serum. Piper jerked her head toward the training grounds as if she had the same idea.

“If you don’t have that ass moving down the pathway in three seconds, I’ll kill the old mage. Maybe I’ll drown him in the pond you both stared so lovingly at, and you can watch as the last of the bubbles come up. Then the redhead is next.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Can’t or won’t? I assure you, I’m capable of both.”

Seething, Layala stomped past him. She slipped her hand into the pouch and pulled out a barb, keeping it on the side opposite of him. Why would he train her so that she could become powerful enough to take him down even if it was so she could protect herself? It made absolutely no sense at all.

He knew she wanted him dead. But then it struck her like a slap to the face: on the chance they were truly mates, did that mean if he died… she died along with him? Her eyes snapped to his face and a wave of horror passed over her.