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"Gonna pass," Anver said, but he was grinning.

Mostly because no one cared that he wasn't interested in it. We joked with him, he joked back, and I got the feeling that he actually liked the banter. Eladehl threw out enough compliments to boost Anver's ego, and I had a very bad habit of hanging off him like he was one of my accessories. He loved the contact. The safe kind, he said. Supposedly, it made him feel cherished.

But that was the only touch I got. The boys were right, I sucked at this. When I was panting so hard I could barely talk, Wraythe decided to try something else. He called Anver over, then spun my back against his chest.

"This is your vital area," he told me, gesturing to a space around my chest. "The goal is to keep your blade close so you can always get to the other side." Then he pulled my arm out, away from my body. "Things like this? Doesn't help when Anver tries to get a touch on your ribs over there."

Obediently, Anver made a slow slashing motion to prove the point. Moving at the same speed, there was no way I'd ever make it across my body in time to stop him. In real combat, it would mean I died.

"So let's do this differently," Wraythe said. "Position one, Anver?"

He lifted his weapon, and Wraythe guided mine up to match. Step by step, he showed me how to mirror my body to my opponent. It wasn't as much focus on how to move my own weapon as how to stay between it and the enemy. Oddly, that helped more than anything else, but it didn't make me good. The guys had a few years of experience, and I'd opted for the section that focused more on flexibility of the body and fashionable dances.

"Think I could switch into the weapons course?" I asked.

Wraythe's mouth was by my shoulder. "Not this year. If you practice, they might let you take it next. Would still give you enough to choose the Path of Protection if you want."

"No," Eladehl said, proving he was paying attention. "Really? All my friends are going to get their goods sealed up?"

"I just don't want to lose the option," I told him. "Because if I choose the Path of the Body and hate it, I can always move down."

"Face it," Anver said, "you'll end up one of the few chosen for Word. They say there's like one every year, and you'll be it."

"And two years away from worrying about it," I reminded them.

But weapons practice was a lot more work than I was used to. By the time the sun was setting, I was a gross, sweaty, stinky mess. Somehow, the guys managed to get soaked and make it look sexy. Not me. I also felt like my arms belonged to someone else.

Flopping down on my reading blanket seemed like the best way to catch my breath. I could also stretch my arms over my head, and hopefully, the blood would return to them. The problem was the shadow that suddenly blocked out the colors of the sunset.

"Hurt?" Wraythe asked.

"You have no idea," I grumbled.

"Sit up."

I did, but I made sure to groan loud enough that he knew I was suffering. But then he sat down behind me, scooting up so his legs fit around the sides of mine. Gently wrapping an arm around my waist, he encouraged me to lean against him. His other arm immediately began kneading a line from my wrist up to my shoulder.

"Oh, that feels good," I mumbled.

"I got the other side," Eladehl promised before dropping to his knees in front of me.

Each one rubbed the aches out of my arms, but they also pressed close to do it. I gave in, leaning my head back against Wraythe's chest, moaning when one of them hit a good spot. And then, Eladehl leaned in to kiss the length of my neck.

This time, it wasn't me who groaned. That came from Anver, who was supposed to be packing away the weapons. Looking over, I found his eyes locked on the three of us, and he was frozen in place.

"Like that, do ya?" Eladehl asked.

"Sorry," Anver said, jerking his face away to focus on the bag.

Wraythe wouldn't let him get away with that. "It's going to be our job, you know."

"Yeah,watching," Anver pointed out.

"And caring for them." He lifted my arm to show what he meant.

Eladehl looked at me. "You care if he stares?"

"He's one of us, isn't he?" I asked. "Why would I care?"

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