Page 8 of In The Dark

“Great, just what we need for the day. A pissed-off Stone Shaper with a stick up his ass.” He chuckles, pushing himself up to greet me with a wide, teasing grin. I toss him an apple and sit.

“How was your night? Those blondes looked nice.” I wink just as he takes a bite of his apple.

He hums. “Much needed, but I found myself at a tavern after that. How was yours?”

“Ah, there’s so much to tell. Where do I start?” I grin, looking out the window. “I found Bess, but not before I met a new mysterious male in the hallway.”

He snorts, lifting a brow. “Was he any good?”

“He was… something,” is all I can say because I don’t know how else to explain it. Although he never touched me, he quite literally took my breath away. I found myself thinking about him the remainder of my time with Bess, eager for tonight.

“Oh,” Ezra says, his brows shooting up as he straightens. “He was really good, wasn’t he? Are you going back to see the courtesan?”

Courtesan. Ezra thinks he works there. A quiet laugh escapes me with a shake of my head, but then my smile quickly falters as I remember my orders from the king earlier. Another target slid right under my door just like every other week.

“I actuallydidwant to go back tonight, but I got another target this morning.”

He stops chewing. “Another one?”

I nod. “King Elion gave me clear orders that it needs to be done tonight.”

He glances out the window. “He’s been keeping us busy these last few weeks.”

We’re both tired, having had multiple targets over the last few weeks, and tracking them has been exhausting and unusual. Having these targets isn’t uncommon, but the number of targets we’ve had is. It leaves me wondering who’s placing these requests or if it’s the king’s doing. I silently thank the Fates that I know where my target will be tonight, so hopefully it will be a quick mission.

I nod, standing with a teasing grin. “Well, let’s get going. We need to spar because you need practice. You’re becoming slow.”

I turn for the door and almost make it to the knob when he chucks his apple at my head, forcing me to duck.

“Missed!” I laugh and wait in the hallway.

Ezra exits after a few minutes, buttoning the top of his tunic, paired with matching black pants. His hair is damp, and once his tunic is secure, he falls into step beside me. Our boots thud against the stairs as we descend into the commons, only stopping to eat before our intense training session.

We walk in silence and enter the arena, which opens into a huge sphere with an intricate glass ceiling that reminds me of the greenhouses the Herb Weavers work in. We’re immediatelywelcomed by warm air as the sun shines through the large windows above us.

A grin lines my mouth when I spot the weapons rack at the edge and stride over to grab my favorite—the staff. Simple but effective in taking down an opponent.

Ezra and I typically do morning training sessions, as they’re a requirement from the king to maintain our stealth and combat skills.

It’s noon by the time we take a break, our shirts thoroughly soaked as we drip with sweat. My attention shifts to the arena doors when they creak open, spotting Ren and a few others striding toward us. A sneer creeps up Ren’s face the moment he sees me, no doubt from our exchange earlier this morning. After taking a drink out of my flask, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Taking my advice and training your endurance, Ren?” I nod to the arena just as Luke chuckles beside him.

“Don’t fight, Isa,” Luke says with a lazy grin. “If you land a blow, I’m afraid you’ll ruin his charming good looks.”

Ren instantly silences him with an icy glare. Luke is around Ezra’s height with short dark brown hair with bronzed skin, eyes a shade of amber. A Healer and the biggest gossip in the brotherhood. My eyes instinctively flick to the weapons strapped beneath his thick cloak.

“Don’t,” Ezra mutters to me.

Ren steps forward with a growl. “You sure do know how to push my buttons, don’t you?”

Luke and Malrik quickly shut their mouths once the other males stride to the weapons to begin their training, ignoring us, as they already know where this is going.

A grin tugs at my lips as I lean against my staff with my elbow, crossing my ankles.

“You make it too easy. You wear your emotions on your face,” I say, and his gray eyes flick over me before he huffs.

“Whatever. I have training to do, wench. Get out of my way.” He stalks past, boots thudding heavily against the floor.