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“Hangover cured,” I said. “Thanks to your tea. And fruit. Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes roaming down my body and back up. “You switched to boots?”

I shrugged. “It’s getting colder, and you switched. So….” I looked him over. He was in his old, worn leather boots from Glemaria, laced up to his knees. They were a perfect complement to his black leather armor, which had on its chest the face of a golden seraphim in profile opposite the face of a silver gryphon. The tips of their wings spread as if in flight above their heads, framing the sun. A full moon below them completed the newly forged sigil Rhyan had been granted at our Oath Ceremony. The symbol was half Ka Hart and half Ka Batavia. Inside the design, running through his armor as it ran through his veins, was both my blood and his blood. Our blood. Binding us together, forming our kashonim.

I wondered where he kept his old armor—the armor that represented only Ka Hart and was filled with blood from his previous kashonim. His previous kashonim’s line had been broken since he’d become forsworn. He never talked about his old lineage, but I had a feeling being cut off from it had been harder for him than he’d ever admit.

“Good choice,” he said. “Boots are far better for running in.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I grimaced. “Does this mean we’re starting with a run?”

“Would you prefer to battle with the longsword?”

I held my hands limply in front of me. I’d never be able to hold a weapon like that. I wasn’t strong enough.

He nodded with understanding. “We’re going to get you there.”

Rhyan threw his dagger onto the track, the blade easily sliding through the dirt to the hilt. I placed mine beside his.

“We’re sprinting,” he said. “When I say go, we run. Run as hard as you can around the track and reach the dagger.”

“That’s it?” I asked suspiciously. “Once around the track?”

“How many times you do this will depend on how fast you go. Once around the track is a half mile. Your average speed in these runs,” he squinted, his right eyebrow dipping, “is around six minutes. I want to see you run it in four.”

“Four minutes.” I nodded. “All right.”

“Four minutes, three times,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re more than capable of covering a half mile in that time. You get three half miles in under four minutes each time, and we’re done. That’s it. But if you come in at more than four minutes, even by a second, you run again. We’ll go until you get three. So you decide if we run for not even a quarter of an hour or if we run for several hours.”

I sucked in a breath. “And then what?”

Rhyan grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The sooner you finish this, the sooner you find out.”

“You look too excited…like maybe I shouldn’t get to the next task.”

His gaze dipped again down my body, then quickly shot back to my eyes. “It’s worth it. But you need to prove to me and to yourself first that you’re taking this seriously. That you can do this. That you will do this.”

I sighed. “Let me stretch first.”

Ten minutes later, I collapsed on the ground, gripping my dagger in my hands, sweat stinging my eyes while Rhyan stood over me, gloating.

“Three minutes and fifty-eight seconds,” he said.

“Impressive after my hangover.”

“What you’ve been capable of doing this entire time.”

“I believe you told me to think stamina, not speed.”

“Stamina doesn’t mean slow, it means not wearing yourself out in the first minute showing off. It means knowing how much energy you have and being able to spread it out over the maximum amount of time. And you had more than you were giving.” His emerald eyes blazed, and the morning sun made his hair glow golden bronze. “Don’t try to debate me right now over the exact meaning of stamina. Let’s get this done.”

“I wasn’t going to debate you!”

“I see it in your eyes, partner. I know exactly what you’re thinking.” He extended his hand, and I reached for him, letting him hoist me back to my feet. “One down. Two to go.”