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Coffee and air entered her lungs as she choked, almost spitting some out. Alora’s glare was as sharp as daggers. Searching for razor-edged words as the liquid in her cup began to boil, debating to chuck it at him.

“I think I’ll stick with mightybastardinstead. Seems to roll right off the tongue.”

Garrik’s face twisted into a grin as he lifted his own cup, draining it whole, and chuckled. “As you wish, clever girl.”

“What happened in the woods last night?” No cheer, no laughing, a tone filled with a sense of unease and confusion. Jade’s face rippled with shock as the green in her eyes bounced nervously from Garrik to Alora. Obviously unaware that her charge escaped while she slept.

Alora sat rigid. “Nothing,” she snapped, glaring at Garrik once more.Don’t.

He ignored her warning. “It was more than nothing.” Looking to the sky, grinning. “I showed her some of my … skills. She was a fantastic student.” He tapped the sword sheathed to his side that dug into the dirt behind him. Which was strange because Garrik never bore his weapons in camp.

Alora rubbed the wound slowly in humiliation, feeling her cheeks scarlet again while Garrik’s face softened. She almost mistook it for regret but knew better.

Thalon noticed and gestured toward the wound. “If that’s the only battle injury you received last night, you’re a lucky one. He used to leave my ass pummeled in the dirt or lodged in a tree. Was it absolutely dreadful?” He waslaughing.

Alora’s heart beat faster as she pictured the cold blade to her throat and his calloused hands, those … incredibly chilling lips. Passionate kisses. The way he pushed against her. Broad shoulders she could be crushed under. And that … solid chest of muscles. Glistening, silver, enchanting eyes. His hard c?—

Garrik cleared his throat, brushing his corded forearm to cover his lap, startling her out of her lustful daydream.

Pacing seemedto be the only option to settle her nerves.

An hour later, the armor still waited, taunting her with the very real fact that once she put it on, she would become one of them.

Her fingertips began to ache.

No longer would she be training in the valley. No longer a mere soldier under instruction within the protection of camp, the familiar mornings, cool breezes that carried the scent of fresh pines would be gone.

Was she ready for this? Ready to leave her new familiar? All along, she wanted nothing more than to leave this place. Though she would’ve preferred, still, to be leaving on her own. But a new, unsteady feeling covered her bones, wondering if it was excitement as she surveyed the armor.

Until a sharp pain jolted in her heart.

Thatwasn’t excitement. The embers threatening to ignite in her palms were proof enough.

New boots hugged her well over pants that were a perfect fit, even the black undershirt sat on her comfortably. Small growth of muscles that hadn’t been so present weeks—even months—before outlined her arms.

Was she ready to put it on? Ready to accept everything it stood for?Whoit was commanded by? To becomehis?

Today was the day she would become one of them.

A Dragon in the High Prince’s legion.

The thought brought an understandable flush of nausea.

It was just leathers on a body, nothing more. But the meaning behind it was so much more than she ever imagined.A Dragon to the High Prince of Elysian.She’d soon be fighting against the enemies that swore an oath to rid the realm of Marked Ones, allowing nothing in their path to hinder that vow.

She’d soon try to convince others, others just like her, of their purpose and great duty to save the land. Would they take great convincing and tactics like her? Would she have to force them into camp as she was? Could she do that to someone?

Tears lined her eyes. It felt too heavy. The weight on her heart, the aching in her fingers. Her legs trembled as the blood thinned within. Alora settled on the cot with so much to think about. She’d put her trust in so many strangers these weeks. Trained with them, practiced her magic, which was progressing faster than Eldacar imagined. Her sword skills had greatly improved with Thalon’s teachings too, though she still had much to learn.

Tapping at the tent entrance drew her attention. With subtle permission, Garrik pulled back the entrance and walked inside. Like the day he rode into Telldaira, his sculpted body was perfectly outlined by his armor, making him appear almost too big to be inside the small tent.

With a petrified expression, Alora’s head dropped low to stare at her prickling fingers draped in her lap.

Garrik walked closer to the foot of her cot and started, “When I was a faeling, Magnelis dispatched me to train in the art of weaponry and battle strategy. I was to learn how to kill my enemy, win a battle, mount and control a horse before my feet could settle in stirrups.” He knelt down on one knee, picked up the leg guards and dagger straps, and motioned for her leg.

Gently, those calloused hands rubbed down her calf, and she tried not to recall how those hands had held her the night before.

Removing her boot, he slid the straps on with her hesitant nod. “I would escape and run home crying from fear, only to be met by Magnelis’s iron hand dragging me to Brennus to cart my ass off once more.”