Page 170 of Lana Pecherczyk

“With your feet?” another cousin gasped. “Not wings?”

“Forget the ball and feet part,” she amended and pointed at her sodden treasure pile. She’d been explaining this all wrong. “I’ve changed the rules anyway. Think of this game as a heist.” That earned her moreoohsandaahs. “You steal a shiny from the middle, get it to your team’s goal—I mean trove—on the other side without being tackled or having your shiny stolen.”

“Tackling, you say?” Talo narrowed his eyes at Salvatore.

“Can I use daggers?” a young Cardona cousin called.

“No.”

“Claws?”

“No.”

“Wing attacks from above?” another asked. The number of players had grown exponentially in the past few minutes, each lured by the potential of treasure. And violence.

“No wings,” Blake insisted. “And no mana allowed. Just regular physical strength and skill on the ground.”

“Yes!” Rocco blurted, swinging his finger between the two Guardians. “You two are just normal mouse-munchers without your fancy metal and inflated mana shit.”

Ash stared at him through rain-slicked hair, tattooed arms folded, his bulging biceps doing the talking.

“Great!” Blake clapped her wet hands, grinning at River. “You captain one team. Ash can captain the other. Each side will have a trove.”

River started to protest that Ash belonged to the Umbria kettle, not the Cardona’s, but then he caught her intention. The game would remain fair and controlled with a Guardian on each side. She hoped. Maybe if they mixed up the families on different teams, they’d forget about the feud altogether.

“We’ll crush them,” Sera whispered to Talo, stripping off her weapon’s sash to reveal a skimpy wrap top, earning her an appreciative whistle from somewhere in the back.

Sera responded by flicking out her claws and giving a toothy grin that showed her relation to River.

“No claws,” Blake reminded.

“Kill ’em, sis!” Lark shouted from the sidelines beneath a waterproof canopy Ravi and Carlotta were setting up. “Get Tommas in the nuts for me!”

“What?” His eyes widened.

“Love you!” Lark kissed the air in his direction.

“First, we need to clear a field.” Blake pointed to a muddy area between the edge of the forest and the roosts.

The transformation was immediate. Feuding families dissolved into strategizing teams. Insults morphed into competitive boasts. A makeshift field materialized with startling speed. And then, the glorious shedding began.

Sodden leather jackets hit the dirt. Tunics followed. Wings shifted away for safety. Males stripped down to leather breeches or linen pants, revealing landscapes of sculpted muscle glistening from the rain. Sera, the only female brave enough to join the game, sliced off her windways at the thighs and strutted about, bending over strategically to clear random pebbles fromthe field. More than one male on the opposing team stopped to stare.

With the rules laid out, Blake left the game in the hands of the two Guardians and retreated to a hastily erected canopy stretching between each roost. It had the best vantage point and welcomed spectators from both families. Lark and Ravi already poured out the moonshine to anyone who joined.

“I have to say, sis,” Lark said, patting a cushion beside her. “This is a spectacular idea.”

Blake grinned into her cup. “Let’s just hope it works.”

“Who cares if it works?” Ravi purred. “Look at my Talo, still in peak physical shape.”

“Gross, Ma.” Lark scrunched up her nose.

“I simply meant it’s the perfect time for a little anatomy observation.”

“Of course.” Blake nodded solemnly. “That’s exactly what this is for.”

Talo argued tactics with a Faelin. Ash, whose warrior’s body rippled with power, discussed war with the Cardonas. Salvatore’s raw strength was undeniable, even at rest. Tommas moved with an earnest intensity that made Lark squirm beside Blake.