Page 91 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Again,” the headmaster says again, pulling me back to my feet.

Chapter Forty-Five

Summer

“Agood start,” the headmaster says as his runic circle disappears. He’s barely winded and seems almost exhilarated by the match.

“Fuck,” I pant. It annoys me that I’m ready to pass out from exertion, while he doesn’t have a single hair out of place, but it does make me want to get better at this. He conjures a white towel and holds it out for me.

“Thank you,” I say, taking it from him and wiping my face and neck.

He nods and summons two bottles of water. Handing me one, he takes a long drink before looking at me again. “You need to continue your sparring outside combat class. Combat might be enough for your classmates, but they’re not facing what you are.”

“I’ll speak with Max.”

“Despite everything, you’d hold up against a lower-ranked demon currently. We’ll work our way up to their regent.”

I’m pretty sure there is a compliment in there somewhere, and my cheeks heat a little in response. “Thank you, sir.” I look at the towel. “I’ll wash this for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” he says, holding out his hand.

He probably has an army of attendants at home, willing to cater to his every whim. Yet at the same time, I can’t see the cold, aloof headmaster allowing anyone into his space. I hand him the towel, and he drops it, disappearing it to wherever it needs to go. With another wave of his hand, he opens the portal behind me, and we step back through to the exact spot we left from.

“Till next time, Miss Tuatha De Daanan,” he says with a small nod before pushing into a run again.

I sigh heavily. While I’m physically and mentally exhausted, I know I need to get this discussion with Max over with. The headmaster’s concern was real, and he had reiterated the need for me to keep training. Even so, my steps drag as I walk toward the gym. I’ve not seen Max since I cried on his shoulder about Rafe. The stranger had practically threatened me about spending time with Max, but I don’t care at this moment. Rafe is my priority, and he needs me to protect him.

I step into the cool, air-conditioned gym, and Max glances at me from the reception desk. His eyebrow lifts, and he studies me, trying to read my expression. Whatever he sees isn’t what I meant to convey, because his lips curl into a half smile, and he moves in the direction of his office.

I don’t follow him, still hovering between the desk and the door. I cannot get distracted right now.

“Actually, can we talk out here?” I ask.

Max stops immediately and turns back, walking toward me. “Sure. What’s up?” he asks, his voice warm and his eyes filled with curiosity. This is something I admire about Max—nothing fazes him. He is as amenable to chatting in the middle of the gym, where we can’t get naked and sweaty together, as he would have been if we were naked and sweaty in his office. Max doesn’t take it personally. He just goes with the flow.

I don’t know why I am feeling nervous, but my stomach knots a little. “I’m hoping you can start training me again.”

Max blinks. “Like, actually training? Or sex training?”

I gape at him. “Actual training. Do I seem like I need sex training, ass­hole?” I grumble, but the knots inside my stomach loosen, and I realize, thanks to the sparkle in his eye, that he said it to put me at ease. He wanted me to bite back at him.

He shrugs. “I wasn’t judging, but everyone could use a refresher course,” he says.

I glare at him. I’m pissed but definitely more comfortable. “You know what? Never mind, asshole.”

What an ass. I’ll find literally anyone else to train me.

Max chuckles. “You want to spar? I know you’re rusty.”

I grumble and glance at him. His smug smile deepens my annoyance, but I’ve also missed this, the verbal sparring we do before, during, and after our training. I may have acted as if I were about to leave, but we both know he would stop me. Rolling my eyes, I shove past Max into the sparring room, and he follows me. I can feel the smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

I grab my sai. “I trained already this morning, so I’m a little sore.”

Max grabs his broadsword, swinging it in a careless arc, warming up his wrist. “Whoever you fight will not care if you’re sore, on your cycle, or injured.”

“So we’re being a dick today? Okay, cool,” I say, stretching my already aching limbs. And my mind briefly wanders to when I’ll next be due for my cycle. Fae don’t have it nearly as much as some species. I think it’s been eighteen months since my last period, and I shudder at the thought of getting it now. There is every chance I would murder Max. And the stranger. And everyone.

Max’s smile is wicked. “You like when I’m a dick.”