It’s almost funny, and okay, maybe I let the suspense build for longer than I need to because it’s hilarious to see the same expression on three different faces. I love to be entertained, and last I checked that’s no crime.
“I also felt at home in the Fringes,” I add.
Alistair raises his eyebrows.
I snort a laugh. “Except for when I was getting the shit kicked out of me for being a Casanell. In the Fang, though...”
“You felt at home in a strip club?” Luca sighs. “That’s sad as fuck, Ciprian.”
“Clueless. You’re all clueless!” Malach’s booming voice startles us all. “It’s not about the locations. He’s saying you made him feel like he was home.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “As I have said from the beginning, the demon is worthy.”
I grin. “And that’s exactly why I love you, Malach.” I tap my temple with my index finger. “You’re built like you asked the gods to trade your brains for muscles, but you fucking pay attention. Body like a red herring.”
Malach tilts his head. “I’m unfamiliar with that expression. Is a herring a bird?”
I shake my head. “A fish, actually, but I was talking about the rhetorical device, not the animal. A red herring impliesmisdirection.” I gesture to him. “You’re so jacked that no one notices you’re also smart.”
“Rhetorical device, really?” Alistair sighs. “That’s merely a harmful stereotype.”
“Shut up.” Luca smacks Ali in the arm, and his grin becomes impossibly wide. “We’re not going to skip over the fact that Ciprian said we’re his home, are we? Because that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh, fuck off, I didn’t say it like that.”
“But that’s how you meant it.” Celine leaves the singed practice dummy on the floor and walks over to me, hinging at the waist to press a kiss to my lips. “Didn’t you, babe?”
I groan. “I meant whatever you want me to have meant, hot wings.”
Her lips curl, and she sighs against my mouth.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods. “I don’t use these spells often because they’re exhausting. I haven’t been able to cast them consistently since I left home, but my magic is much stronger here. I’m not sure what my limits are anymore.”
She clenches her jaw. Before I can ask why that bothers her, she stands upright, crosses her arms, and blinks as if she’s clearing her thoughts.
Her face is too pale, and the sweat in her hairline has turned her roots a darker red. The attacks don’t require much physical movement, but not all exercise resembles burpees. I should know. My nightmares drain me, and I don’t move at all to create them.
“Don’t overdo it, baby,” Luca says.
“No more radiant attacks for you today,” Malach adds.
Celine whips her head around and narrows her eyes at him. “Says who?”
Unmoved by her tone, Malach holds her gaze calmly. “We’re not finished with training, but it’s your turn tododge, my truth.”
“You’re going to attack me?” She grins, looking way too excited about the prospect of having magic hurled at her.
“Of course.” The door to the room—white as fuck, like everything else in here—swings open with an audible whine.
Lyklan steps in, two swords tucked under his arm.
“I’ll toss a few things at you to start. If you dodge as well as I expect you to, we’ll add Lyklan to the mix.”
“No need.” Riven pushes to his feet and cracks his knuckles. “I’m trained in sword fighting, and I can replicate S’lach’sbuild.”
Lyklan bristles. “Exactly which types of swords are you trained to fight with?”
Riven sneers. “Longsword, broadsword, rapier, saber, épée, foil, dagger?—”