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She allowed the words to flutter over her. Simply basking in his incredible voice, in his presence, until Garrik squeezed her shoulders and brushed the chill of his hands down her arms and stepped away.

The words stopped. She desperately wished for them to continue as her heart thundered. And by the stars, gratitude swelled inside her chest as his warm voice returned.

“Are you ready, Ara darling?”

There were nine successful rescues of Mystics on their way north. Welcoming in a total of seventeen to their growing forces in the past two months.

Along with the arrival of new Mystics, reports arrived frequently to the Shadow Order in forms of missives carried and delivered by Thalon after he would return in his impressive swirl of thunderstorms and lightning. On each arrival, his shiningsmile beamed as he strutted into camp with news from other allied courts and kingdoms; their numbers were growing strong and preparing for the inevitable battle to come.

Jade, Alora decided as she walked to the arena walls, had diluted her prickly personality some. Slowly softening that permanent scowl and occasionally allowing them to have a moment of strained yet endurable conversation—other than the usual snide comments. Not often, but it was enough that waking up in the morning wasn’t met with harsh threats or burning glares every moment their eyes clashed.

In fact, as Alora walked across the open field teeming with soldiers sparring outside camp, Jade may have unsuccessfully attempted to hide a twitch at the corner of her mouth when she saw Alora walking her way.

Or perhaps it was due to the awaiting death trap below the arena walls.

With the wind behind her disturbing loose strands of white hair that had fallen from her crown of braids, Alora glanced down into a training …

Coliseum.

Before he and Thalon dawned from camp, Garrik had effortlessly delivered Jade’s vision in a storm of Smokeshadows early that morning. The walls of the training arena opened to a long, spiraling stairway into the depths of what surely would be a new form of torture. Jade its curator.

Unlike rumors of such structures used for entertainment, Jade had more useful purposes. And when her voice quieted to whispers with the High Prince, when Garrik’s face twisted into something clever and pleased and somewhat wicked, he simply patted Jade between her shoulder blades, and with the flick of his wrist, constructed a pit ofdoom.

A collection of stone structures, obstacles, trapdoors, and tunnels expanded across a surface so vast it could’ve been the foundation of a castle laid to ruin.

Intended for a ruthless day of training to the testament of skills and abilities not even a Raven could withstand, mock battles would be performed at Jade’s every whim until perfected and instilled for the unthinkable in war. And much to Alora’s reprehension, Jade’s battalion would be the first to test the trials below. More than three hundred females were soon to be striking blades and bursting with magic, the only all-female battalion in the camp—to which Jade honorably led.

Alora bit back her pride and admitted to finding some pleasure in being a part of it. Of the strength it took to train and earn her place.

The males could train with brawn and brutish strength. Females with quite more of a … bloodthirsty grace.

Jade crossed her arms, scanning the multitude below. Searching for weakness, her green side-eye glanced at her when Smokeshadows whorled near the edge of camp and neither one of them could contain the slight smiles growing on their faces.

The tendrils began misting away. But something like disappointment flashed across Jade’s face the instant two High Fae males and a female with massive, leathery white wings stepped from the storm.

Then Jade turned to Alora, who stiffened, frowning. “Every time they dawn home, I expect to see him returning with them.”

Alora knew exactly who she meant. That guilt always returning upon each arrival.

Gently, she dared to bump her shoulder against Jade’s, attempting to turn that heavy, uncomfortable burst of emotion away from what viciously scratched Jade’s mind. But when Jade said nothing, Alora countered. “Are you going with the High Prince to see Aiden next time?”

Jade chewed on the inside of her cheek. “The last time I visited, he couldn’t open his eyes… I can’t see him like that.”

That was a month ago.

There had been complications by Ozrin’s reports. He had permanently set up in a small but well-equipped and comfortable lodging in the city to care for Aiden. Garrik would dawn there a few times a week to check on his healing, rotate soldiers, and tend to any necessities Ozrin would require. Only bringing Ozrin back to camp if an injury needed to be tended to.

Aiden was progressing well for some time, but the long effects of gamroara poison were tricky. His improvements were stable some days and tumultuous others. If Aiden had been full High Fae, his recovery would’ve been much easier, quicker. Though Ozrin remained firm and hopeful Aiden would return. It was just a matter of when.

Gesturing with a nod to Jade’s sword, Alora asked, “Want to spar?” Hoping it would distract Jade from Garrik and Thalon conversing with the female they brought into camp, closing the distance between them.

For a moment, Jade considered it. As in those green eyes that had dulled, a gleam of gratefulness flashed back. But niceties were never in Jade’s temperament. Alora knew better than to hope for anything more. Jade blinked, and that softening appreciation melted into taut lips and a harsh line between her eyebrows.

“You’ve wasted enough time watching today. Get your ass down in the pit.” But where Alora expected the graveled fire to spit from her voice, there was something less than expected. More casual than demanding, almost a suggestion, not a command.

Alora smiled and didn’t care if Jade saw it.

That smile quickly faded when her eyes once again met the stairs, and her legs began to tremble. Trembling because nottwenty feet down, it wasn’t only wooden boards that waited for her … but that death she often pictured behind mahogany eyes and ebony hair.