Page 84 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

“There are,” Lorcan conceded. “It’s just a different alignment. Different training.”

Kierse made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. They reached the end of the corridor, revealing a massive vault door. It was the width of three people standingshoulder to shoulder with reinforced steel across the sides. If Kierse had to guess, she bet it was several feet thick. A feat of modern ingenuity—not something she would have expected to find in a building built in the 1800s.

“Oh yes, and there’s this,” Lorcan said, gesturing to the door.

“You let all your acolytes walk past your vault?” Kierse asked. “Isn’t it a security risk?”

“It’s warded.” His eyes slid over her. “Not that that affects you, of course, but I would hope the five feet of solid steel would keep you out.”

“You’d be wrong,” she said with no bravado. She could break that vault, and she wouldn’t even need a drill to do it.

“Well, there’s security on it day and night. Just in case you want to try.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“I would so like to watch you work,” he teased.

She huffed. It was too easy. He probably didn’t even keep the sword in there. Not that she had any reason to steal it from him. That was certainly not part of her deal with Graves. He’d lost it fair and square to Lorcan. He’d have to figure out how to get it back himself.

“This way,” Lorcan said with a sly smile.

They came to another bank of elevators and took one up until it opened to a central atrium. Kierse’s breath caught at the sight. The interior was massive, with forty-foot arched doorways that looked more like they belonged in Versailles, not Brooklyn. It had a high domed ceiling with a kaleidoscope mural in blues, orchids, and pastel pinks. Much of the original glass windows, chandelier lighting, and antique craftsmanship had been restored. The cashier andclerks’ offices shone in gold against one side of the room, in front of the original intercom system and the historic vault Kierse had been expecting for a building of this age. The walls were marble and the floors a reconstructed mosaic in glossy cream, gold, and white.

At the center of the atrium stood a loose circle of acolytes in brown robes, watching a man and a woman face off. An instructor, a Druid in his fifties wearing green robes belted at the waist and loose pants, was giving instruction.

“Begin,” he said.

Lorcan nodded at the fight as the pair launched at each other. “This was what you wanted, right?”

Kierse furrowed her brow as she homed in on the pair. The woman was short, at least a head below Kierse, with a cropped blond bob that swung as she moved like liquid. Her opponent was roughly Kierse’s height with skin the color of an old sepia photo and close-shorn dark hair. He was built like an ox, with corded arms and broad shoulders. His back was to her, but the second she watched him move, she cried out. “Ethan?”

At the sound of his name, her best friend turned. Their eyes locked, and his widened in shock. His soft face had become angular. His black coils were cut from his head. Where he’d been all lanky knees and elbows, he’d filled out with hardened muscle. The prominent scar that ran down one side of his face was the only thing that didn’t seem to have changed. Her soft-hearted friend who wore his heart on his sleeve had been replaced by this hugeman.

The moment strung taut like a rope between them. All those months ago, they had formed a triskel and used magic that connected her, Ethan, and Gen. It had saved herlife. She could feel that the thread hadn’t disappeared, just stretched across an ocean. Now she was before him and the ache of missing him threatened to overwhelm her.

But in his moment of distraction, his opponent grasped his arm, executed an intricate spin, and swept his legs out from under him. He grunted as his back hit the practice mat.

Kierse covered her laugh with her hand.

Then Ethan hopped up, vaulting out of the circle and crashing into her arms.

“What are you doing here?” he gasped.

“I came to see you as soon as I could.”

Lorcan cleared his throat. “Ethan.”

“Sorry, sir,” Ethan said, immediately stepping back and bowing to Lorcan.

He turned back to the rest of the class. “Excellent job, Alba. You are an asset to Owen.”

“Sir,” Owen, the Druid teacher, said with a head bow.

Lorcan tipped his head at Kierse and then moved to the rest of the acolyte circle, directing the next pair to begin.

“Kierse,” Ethan gasped, pulling her in for a tight hug once more.

When he held her, she felt like she was finally back in New York. If she had Gen here, too, then everything would be back the way it was always meant to be.

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