“I’ll keep practicing,” I say vaguely.
“And I’ll keep asking the goddess to bless you both.” Amala pats my shoulder in lieu of goodbye, and with onelast ogle of her husband, she shifts into shadow and funnels in the direction of the kitchen.
Seeing her shift so easily, I try again, willing my cells to come apart and join with the shadows in the corner of the ledge I’m on, but aside from grunting from the effort like I’m severely constipated, nothing happens. I hang my head in frustration.
I’m delighted when Damien barks a command in the pit below, and the trainees still and sheathe their swords. A break. Finally. My mate often seems invincible, but I can tell he needs food and water—and probably blood. Plus, it’s a good excuse for me to rest. It’s not like I’m making any progress anyway.
Although the small platform I’m on is carved into the wall of the cavern and heavily cloaked in shadow, Damien whirls to face me as soon as the men disperse, as if I’m a beacon in the darkness. Our eyes lock, and in the time it takes for him to twist into a column of darkness and surf the shadows to me, he is by my side in his corse or polite form—no wings, horns, or tail.
“You’re supposed to be practicing, little bird,” he says through a smirk.
“I am! I’m taking a break. You warned me not to force it.”
He runs his callused fingers over the skin of my cheek and then combs them through the red curls behind my ear. “How’s it going?”
“Some success today using shadows to pick up a pitcher of water.”
His teeth flash white in the darkness. “It’s a start.”
“As for sprouting wings and horns, as far as I can tell, the goddess Thanesia left that off my gift list.” I shrug.
Damien’s smile tilts. “You have no need for battle form, my little bird. Your talents are better used off the battlefield.”
The tattoo on my back tingles. By talents, he means my magic, and just the thought raises the bond between me and Phantom, my familiar. Once a fox and now a dragon, they are the embodiment of my ancestors and the anchor to my spirit magic. I sense them waiting for me in the darkness, invisible but close.
“I can think of several occasions over the last year when a battle form would have come in handy.”
His face falls, and I wonder if he’s thinking about my abduction by the dark elf king. The days I spent as his captive were the most terrifying of my existence. I still have nightmares. But I refuse to ruin the moment and my day wasting my thoughts on King Adril Entrydal. I move closer to Damien, caressing his back to the base of his spine, and lick my bottom lip. “Besides, I would love to know what it’s like to have a tail. Yours is so much fun.”
“Mmmm.” He places a firm kiss on my waiting mouth. “Naughty little bird. I’ll show it to you now if you like. How fast can you make it back to our chambers?”
I pound his shoulder with my fist because he knows damn well I’d have to get there the old-fashioned way. He grabs my hand and tugs me hard against his chest, laughing in a way that makes my heart swell with love for him.
We’re interrupted when a young mountain dweller in a brown uniform bursts into the hall, waving his arms.
“Seamus! High alert! There’s someone at the gate!”
Seamus sets down his goblet and turns to the boy. “Did you get a good look at him?”
The boy grabs his head. “It’s the master of the guard, Banias, and six other uniformed soldiers from New Stygarde. They are armed, my lord.”
Seamus exchanges a knowing glance with Damien and me. We’ve prepared for this. With a nod of my head, I feel my tattoo tingle, and my bond with Phantom grows taut. I whisper an incantation, and a shield of invisibility comes over us. Beside me, Damien completely disappears.
Below us, Seamus thumps the boy on the shoulder and points his chin toward the front gate. “All right, then,” he says in his hearty timbre. “Let’s go welcome our guests.”
I find Damien’s hand with my own, and he pops into existence again. “As long as we’re touching, we can see each other,” I whisper. “Just don’t let any of the bad guys touch you, or the effect will be the same.”
“Noted,” he says. “Come on. We need to hear this.” Damien leads me down the narrow stony outcroppings that serve as stairs and hurries after Seamus. He leads the way from the training hall toward the front, formal entrance to the mountain fortress. Two enormous doors decorated with Stygian steel scrollwork wait for us.
When Seamus brought us here, he used a secret passageway and train system that previously was only available to mountain dwellers. Built under the mountain, the passageway avoids the moat of lava and the intense, upward climb to these doors. Invited in, as we were, our obstacles were few. I get some satisfaction knowing that Banias had to reach this place the hard way.
With the turn of a crank that requires two men to operate, the three-story-high doors slowly swing open. Seven men dressed in white uniforms that sparkle silverin the moonlight stand at the threshold, swords displayed prominently on their hips.
Damien’s arms circle my waist, and he pulls me against his chest, then tucks us both into an alcove in the wall. Although we’re silent and unseen, Seamus knows we’re here. He knows we’re listening.
“Sir Banias.” Seamus bows. “What an unexpected surprise.”
Banias stumbles in. I do not miss the way his legs wobble or sweat trails in rivulets over his temples. The corners of Seamus’s lips twitch in a barely suppressed smile.
