Page 92 of Magical Midlife Conclave

“You worried about putting Aljoe into a cage,” Aurora said with renewed laughter, “but you were totally fine riding on his back like you were in some sort of circus?”

“Okay, well…right.” I took a big sip of my drink. “By then, yes, things had gotten away from me a little bit. I think my gargoyle was happy to have a challenge.”

“I think you blame a lot on your gargoyle when it’s you,” Aurora murmured. She made a fair point.

“What I wondered is,” Niamh said, “why did ye just sit on him, happy as ya please, and give him scratches that didn’t do much damage? I’ve seen ye do worse than that. Tristan comes to mind. Remember way back in the day?”

Before he’d become part of the team, yeah. We’d discovered he had a different color blood when I ripped into him with my claws. A suspicious color possibly originating from a realm I had only heard about and still wasn’t quite sure existed. It must, though, for a person to bleed both red and orange.

“Well, since we were already in the fight, I figured I’d pay him back for some of the abuse he’s always giving Aurora.” I shrugged. “And that’s all I would’ve done if I hadn’t gotten surprised by that roll move. I reacted poorly.”

“Poorly?” Aurora widened her eyes. “You nearly killed the guy!”

“Exactly. Mock battles should be superficial. There shouldn’t be real danger in them. That’s a waste of life. I should have more control.”

“Ye’ve been at this for less than two years, girl.” Niamh crossed an ankle over a knee. “Ye’re better than most seasoned mages, so ye are. Ye’re battle-trained; of course ye’re goin’ta react aggressively. We’d be dead a hundred times over by now if ye didn’t learn like that.”

“Right. That’s why I shouldn’t be doing these challenges.”

“Bah.” Niamh waved it away.

Aurora put her hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for thinking of me. And providing us all with a lot of entertainment that my uncle is not going to forgive anytime soon.”

“He doesn’t really have a pot to piss in,” I said darkly.

“No, he does not.” Niamh nodded in solidarity. “What is this wanker up to?” she groused. “We’ve been sitting here for ages, like.”

Tristan was barely moving around the space, hitting and kicking and basically thwarting every single attempt the wolf made to get closer. The entire audience could tell he was getting bored, and we were getting bored with him.

Finally, he let the wolf in, close enough that Tristan could wrestle him. He ripped down the side with his claws. The wolf bayed in pain. He slammed the wolf down and then bit into the back of its neck.

“Careful,” I called. “I’m busy with Aljoe. Don’t hurt him too badly.”

“Ya just can’t stop yerself from giving offense, can ya?” Niamh asked.

“How is that offensive?” Ulric leaned over to look at Niamh. “That wolf is obviously no match for Tristan. Why did he even challenge?”

“The offensive part is asking Tristan to give him mercy,” Aurora murmured.

“Shifters are precious about their egos,” Niamh said loudly.

“And saying that for everyone to hear is not offensive?” I asked.

“Oh, it is.” Niamh put down her empty can before lifting the lid on the cooler. “And true. But I like causing offense. Ye do it without the proper joy in it.”

I rolled my eyes at her as Tristan ripped across the side of the wolf’s throat and slammed it onto the ground again. He stood over the shifter, who now struggled to get up.

“Well, at least he has fight in him.” Ulric chewed his thumbnail. “Can’t fault that.”

“I mean…kinda,” I murmured. “A real man would know they were beaten, stand up, and shake hands. This is a freaking field with cones and a ref. Know the stakes, you know? What’s the point in squirming on the ground?” I nodded to myself. “Yeah, I saw the offense that time. But seriously, that’s just the truth of it. These aren’t any better than the raids.”

“At least in the raids, if you’re good enough, you get something out of it.” Ulric leaned back with a sigh and took a sip of his beer. “Can I come for dinner tonight⁠—”

Tristan picked up the wolf by the nape of the neck and launched into the sky.

“Ah, crap,” I said, watching him. “Should I⁠—”

Tristan delicately dropped him at the top of a nearby tree, in a bushy part, so that the wolf got stuck in the branches and leaves. He’d have to shift and climb down, except currently he was hurt. He stayed there as Tristan soared back.