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A mighty laugh echoed from his lips. “That’s normal for your first weeks of training. You’ve lasted longer than most. I usually order new fighters in an ice bath within their first midweek.” Thalon palmed her shoulder and toasted her. “Well done. Impressive.”

It was becoming easier to converse, even laugh at Thalon and Eldacar’s banter. But Garrik was … much different around the fire. When he did speak, it was in short returns. Always listening, always watching. Offering brief discourse and retorts if the conversation seemed to please him. But never seeming to allow himself to truly connect.

“… and then Garrik flung the chicken out the window after his instructor chased him down the hall. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone punished to train that many hours in my life.” Thalon roared so viciously he grabbed his stomach and clenched his eyes.

Eldacar cut in, “Remember when Aiden took a Hiyrythean to bed? He woke, covered in slime, screaming back to camp‘what the hell happened last night?’The stench didn’t leave him for an entire week.” He removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth between chuckles, not forgetting to dab the corners of his eyes too.

“Garrik made him ride ahead of the legion all week to ward off incoming danger.” Thalon was practically convulsing.

Alora watched the males chatter as Jade relaxed with ankles crossed on the fallen tree and Garrik grinned at the dirt. The guilt slowly crept up her limbs when Jade unnoticeably turned her eyes and glared at Alora.

She ripped her gaze away, focusing on the dancing flames between them. “Is Aiden to return soon?”

It was Garrik who answered. “I have visited daily. He will be back within a month, maybe a little more. The reports are good. He is recovering well. Slow, but well. He has never been away from us long. The moment he is able to stand, his stubborn ass will find us.”

Alora turned her gaze south when Thalon countered, “Aiden’s like a cat, nine lives and all. He’s sure to make a fine entrance when he returns.”

And that caused something like a smile to twitch on her face.

In the distance toward the lake, a loud cheer erupted, cutting through the heaviness like a sharpened blade.

“Bout that time.” A feline grin covered Thalon’s face. “I’m sure the torches are being lit as we speak.” He twisted his body and looked over the tents toward the lake.

“Time for what?” Alora asked.

“For some fun!” Thalon jumped up and stretched his arms over his head before pointing to Eldacar. “What says you? You going to give a blade a go this evening?”

“Oh, stars above, no! The pen is my sword. And considerably easier to write with.” He elbowed Alora and smiled.

Excitement glistened in Alora’s eyes. “You’re sparring tonight?”

“We’recompetingtonight!” Thalon drew his sword and maneuvered it in front of him. “Two nights before we move out, Garrik allows us to compete. The entire camp. No rules. It’s the perfect way to blow off the heat of the journey and, of course,earn bragging rights until the next one. I have championed all I’ve fought in.”

“You’ve never lost? Not even against the mighty prince?”

“No, he’s never competed before. He’s too deadly.” With a wink, Thalon swung his sword once more.

She looked over at Garrik, remembering how she’d never seen him sparring—not once.

Garrik simply shrugged. “They cannot handle me.”

“I bet I could.” Alora goaded and flicked her thumb on her chin as if to remind him of the cut she’d given him in his tent.

“I would pay good coin to see that!” Thalon stabbed his sword into the dirt and started patting his pockets.

Garrik rubbed his chin, amusingly looking at Alora. “Is that so?” And she flashed him a cocky grin back before he shook his head. “Not this time, clever girl.”

She almost said something when Thalon abandoned his search and spun his golden sword in an effortless twist of his wrist, pointing the sharpened tip at Jade. “I get a go with you tonight. I want to see that red hair get pummeled into the dirt.”

“More like your sorry ass ending up in the lake.” Jade threw back as she jumped to her feet. “I’ll be taking one of those Earned tonight, mark my words.”

The two of them squared off, offering friendly fire in the way of their words, but Alora furrowed her eyebrows. “Earned?”

Garrik leaned forward; his forearm draped over a bent knee beside her. “The golden beads braided into Thalon’s hair,” he started, low enough that only she could hear him, “are a holy symbol from Tarrent-Garren Keep—Thalon’s home—settled in the mountains of their own territory and governed by no king. Not even Magnelis can break the exalted bindings.

“Worldly known as ‘Earned,’ they are only worn by those who are honored to be titled as ‘Guardians.’ Each bead is an opportunity; lose a battle, lose a piece of honor, displayed by theloss of a bead—which is what will happen if Thalon loses tonight. And if a Guardian loses all of their Earned,” Garrik continued, reflecting flames in his eyes, “they are no longer worthy to be titled and excommunicated forever, along with their family.”

Alora watched as the beads reflected the amber glow of the flames. Her eyes drifting over every perfect one, too many to count, weaving throughout his locks, save for one strand that collected in a long row of ten.