But as Mireille and Ronin left the training room, she lifted her arms back into position.
And continued to count.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Mireille took Ronin to another room down the hall with the same dirt floor and rack of weapons.
Ronin paused in the center, hands on his hips, and tilted his head back, sucking his lip between his canines. The sight of his sharp fangs sinking into his plush lower lip did nothing to Mireille.
Nope.
Not athing.
“She’s going to die,” Ronin whispered.
Righteous fury pulled Mireille from her ogling. “You don’t know that. We still have time.Shestill has time.”
“To get skilled enough with a sword to defeat the Koenig? A hardened male who has an entire city of Fae bowing to him? And not only that, but can wield a hammer imbued with divine magic? Yeah, a recently Turned human who’s barely past twenty can take him on and win. Sure.”
Mireille squared her shoulders. “We’ll help her. Silas will help her.”
Ronin scoffed, pushing a hand through his messy white hair. “A half-blind, dried up old warrior, a she-wolf with snuffed outfire magic, and a sad-sack, half-human Windrider. If there have ever been worse fucking odds, I’ve never seen them.”
Mireille exploded. “Then why did you agree to help when Cassandra called upon you? If you think this is pointless,why are you even here?”
“I’m not the type to back down from a fight,” he snarled. “Neither is my wolf.”
“Yes,” she spat back, fists clenching, “I remember thatquitewell.”
Ronin’s face crumpled, the first real emotion she’d seen from him. A crack in his armor. “Ibeggedhim, Mireille—” her heart stuttered at her name on his lips “—beggedhim not to shift and go after you.”
She stepped forward, invading his personal space. “I’m glad he did.”
Ronin’s eye blazed, anger radiating off his powerful body as a growl built in his throat.
She went in for the kill.
“At least he was willing to pay the price for my father’s death.”
His hand shot for her throat, but he stopped himself at the last second. Pivoted on his heel and bolted toward the weapons rack.
He tossed a practice sword at her feet, gripping another in his massive hand. The words tattooed across his knuckles—Inom Than,Become Death in Aramaelish—felt almost too appropriate. “Pick it up.”
“No,” Mireille said, taken aback. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to do this right. This fight between us has been alongtime coming. Not between you and my wolf. Between you and me. And if we’re going to help Cass win her appeal, then we need the practice, too. You certainly haven’t gotten in any sparring with her.”
Mireille crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not fighting you, Ronin.”
He choked up on the hilt of his sword, circling her. “Why? Afraid you’ll lose, little she-wolf?”
She scoffed, something kindling within her. As if she’d been waiting for this moment for centuries. A chance for her and Ronin to work through their shit on a level playing field without her fire to give her the advantage.
And even though a more rational part of her knew that talking it out,hearinghim out, might be a better way to resolve things, that wasn’t at all what she wanted right now.
She picked up the sword and shot him a savage smile. “Oh no, Matakos. I’m not afraid.” She twirled the weapon, the tip whizzing through the air and lighting a fire in her blood. “Not for me, at least. I’m afraidyoumight lose another eye.”
He bellowed and she barely had time to get her sword up before he was upon her. Their stone blades crashed together, the force reverberating through her bones.
