Page 2 of Trial of Three
A soft, sensual chuckle. “I think you are a little wet to burn, lass,” Tye murmurs, as if reading my mind.
“Tye, please.” My voice is strangled. Breathless with the focus on one very awake spot, which zings with every beat of my now-galloping heart. With every touch of Tye’s prickling magic. I try to shove myself subtly away from his hold and succeed only in dancing in place. Shifting my weight under me, I bite back a whimper. “You’ve made your point.”
“Oh, if it’s mypointyou are after, just squirm your backside a bit more, and—”
“Bastard,” I gasp, my sex now moist and starting to throb hard enough to make the world flicker at the edges. My toes curl inside my boots as blazing heat consumes my skin, my face.
A deep chuckle rumbles through Tye’s chest, the extra vibrations little helping my cause. “I’m only showing you the versatility of the magic,” he drawls. “Since you brought it up.”
Suddenly the ground shakes beneath us, knocking Tye and me unceremoniously onto the sand. The sparks wreaking havoc between my legs sputter out against the slick moisture, leaving an ache so intense that I hiss from denied need. Rising onto my hands and knees, I look up to find River striding toward us.
“My apologies,” the prince of Slait says, extending his hand with bloody dignified courtesy. “My magic seems to have slipped its leash for a moment.”
Tye climbs to his feet, a grin on his face as he shakes his head to rid his red hair of sand. “Happens to the best of us.” His emerald eyes and small silver earring catch the sun.
Face flaming, I scramble to my feet, my pulse and breath both racing. My eyes grip the latest of River’s candles, my one lifeline out of this mess before one of the males says something that really does make me burst from embarrassment. Candle. Exercise. Magic. Light the candle.
I focus on the power I still feel rumbling from Tye—wicked and strong and gloriously amused. The magic echoes through me as it has all morning, its mischievous tang prickling my tongue like an unripe fruit. I extend my hands toward the candle, the image of a tiny white flame filling my world. I let the power roll from me, a phantom limb following the direction of my hands—
The air crackles with lightning. Missing the candle entirely, the flaming sphere I didn’t see forming rushes toward River like a wild beast scenting prey. “Watch out!” I scream.
The commander throws up a hand and the fire I just launched ricochets off his defense and heads right back toward me.
“Shield!” Tye shouts.
I drop to the ground and am still trying to imagine how to weave the power into a barrier when the air before me hardens like glass. River’s earthy scent fills my nose as my errant flames slide down the male’s second shield and sizzle against the sand.
Cringing, I sit on my heels and force myself to meet the prince’s gray eyes. “Thank you.”
Before River can answer, a loud, slow clapping sounds from the observation platform above. The practice arena falls silent. River pulls me up to my feet and behind him as Klarissa climbs down the ladder and strides toward us.
“How wonderfully effective.” The female’s musical alto rings through the arena as Coal and Shade, the latter in his wolf form, come to stand beside Tye, River, and me.
My breath catches. How long was the elder standing there? Watching. Judging. Planning.
“Is this what you call training nowadays, River?” Klarissa’s rich lavender gown swishes around her ankles as she turns to the quint commander. Her gleaming dark-brown waves frame a tear-shaped diamond hanging against her forehead like a third eye. Her olive skin looks smooth as porcelain in the sunlight. “One trainee has free rein to do as she wishes? No consequences. No need for correction. If I’d known the effectiveness of this new pedagogy, I’d have brought lemonade and sweet tarts along.”
It’s a battle to keep myself from stepping back, turning my face to the ground. Not from Klarissa’s words themselves—I know better than to expect anything short of well-aimed poison from the viper—but because of how close they hit to the frustration I’ve seen in River’s eyes. Itisn’tworking, what we’ve been doing. I know it. River knows it. And now Klarissa knows it too.
River clasps his hands behind his back. Slow and controlled. His tall, hard body owning every bit of space around him, owning the whole arena without trying. The protectiveness fanning from him surrounds me as potently as Tye’s arms did minutes ago. “A pleasure to see you today, Elder. Can we be of assistance?”
Klarissa picks at invisible lint on her sleeve. “I require your aid in protecting Lunos from Mors’s Emperor Jawrar. Can I expect your quint to be ready to play its part?”
River’s jaw tightens. “We are... heading in the proper direction, Elder.”
Klarissa smiles, her painted lips parting to show long white canines. “I’m glad to hear it. Shall we test your weaver in the pet pen in the meantime?” Catching my confused frown, the female captures my gaze. Her sharp eyes make my stomach tighten. “The portion of this practice arena that exists in the Gloom is well stocked with a variety of Mors trash that’ve wandered into our traps. Piranhas, sclices, trakans. I’m surprised your friends have not told you about it; most quints start practicing there as soon as they pass a single trial. A small taste of the real world.”
“Klarissa.” River’s voice is cold and hard enough to sever steel.
She turns to him, her own words no softer. “A weaver should make your quint stronger than any Lunos has ever seen. It takes some doing to turn an advantage into a liability, but I must say, you are managing it with superb efficiency.” Shaking her head in disgust, the female turns her back to us.
I swallow, my chest tightening around my ribs. “Klarissa is right,” I say softly. “We have to do something about me.”
“Yes.” River nods. “We have to get you the hell away from here.”
2
River
