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“Come on, you two.” Braz shook my shoulder.
I groaned but broke the kiss, then pecked Theon one more time. The three of us untangled ourselves, stood, and I said, “If I shift, Theon can ride on my back, and we’ll have more time.”
“Sounds good to me.” Theon smiled.
Braz nodded. “Alright. I can’t run as fast as you, but I’ll try to keep up.”
I nodded. Right before I shifted, I said, “Wey’s flying this morning, so he’ll meet us for dinner tonight. Florin will meet us on the training field.”
I shifted, and Theon said, “What? Wey’s flying?”
As I shook out my fur, Braz said, “We can ask him later. We need to go.”
Braz helped Theon climb on my back, and the three of us rushed into the trees.
This place wasn’t perfect by a long shot, but hopefully, in time, everyone would see what amazing people Theon and Braz were and what assets they could be. If they didn’t, well, there’d be a lot more broken jaws in the future.
7
Weylyn
The morning sun pierced hot and blinding between the cloud gaps dotting an endless blue sky. I squinted my eyes, air rushing over my body, holding me aloft high above the training yard. Two days I’d had my wings back, and the bright warmth of being whole, the blaze of joy in my chest at flying again still refused to dim. Not that I wanted it to.
Looping around, I practiced letting myself drop and dive before popping open my wings and lifting back toward the sky. The muscles in my back protested, no longer accustomed to such use, but with work, they’d grow strong again. Contentment settled inside me at the thought—we’dallgrow strong again.
Beneath me, the training yard was a buzz of activity. The lesser skilled warriors—and Florin because he would not be parted from Theon—swung their wooden practice swords in amateur arcs as they learned their form. Sephiran stood tall at the front of their lines. He’d quickly assumed the duties of training the new recruits, and no one had even attempted to argue with him.
To the right of the yard, the more seasoned warriors tested their mettle. Braz was being circled by four men—all wolves, if memory served. I grinned, waiting for him to decimate them, only to frown when he swung wide, and the wolves piled one after the other onto his back, sending him to a knee in the sand. The lieutenant leading training called a halt to the match, and Braz rose quickly, walking toward the weapons rack.
I dove, unfurling my wings again some twenty feet above the ground, catching the air and controlling my descent. With only a small thump, I landed beside Braz, dust rising in a cloud around me. He didn’t even flinch.
“What was that, orc?” I asked, low, stepping closer to him and ducking my head to catch his downturned gaze.
He did look at me then, scowl firmly in place, but he didn’t answer. He wiped the wooden sword in his hand with the oil provided to keep them clean and replaced it on the wooden rack.
“Braz.”
With a huff, he braced his arms on the rack. His muscles were bulging—practically vibrating—with a tension I’d rarely seen in him outside the arena. “Those wolves… they like harassing Theon. I would not give them further reason to torment him. I would… I would turn their eyes to another target.”
Harassing Theon? The stone plates covering my body hardened further. I knew Theon hadn’t been welcomed with open arms as the rest of us had. From Florin’s nightly excursions, I also knew that Kasper heard pleas from his people daily to remove Theon from camp. I glanced to the northern end of the yard, meeting Kasper’s gaze. He’d been waiting for me to return there so he could give me another drill. He’d have to wait a few moments longer. It was time the Resistance learned exactly who they’d welcomed into their camp. The champions of Pelas would not be cowed by some prejudiced rabble, and before we walked away from these sands today, every creature here would know what was coming for them if they crossed us.
“Are you with me?”
Braz’s head snapped up from where he’d bowed it, dark brown gaze boring into mine. “You know I am.”
I nodded once. “Choose a sturdy weapon.” Looking behind me, I found Nica standing on the other side of the clearing, watching the match in progress. As if he felt my gaze on him, he looked up and met my eyes over the clash of swords between us. I jerked my head in our direction. He nodded and began making his way around. He was wearing nothing but simple cut-off cloth breeches. They hung low on his hips, revealing all the deep lines defining the muscles of his torso. I only took a moment to drink in the sight of the sun shining off his pale skin and red hair before I turned and chose my own weapon from the rack. A spear made of dark, hard wood.
When Nica reached us, I gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in until his forehead rested against mine. “We need to show this lot who they’re dealing with. I won’t have them thinking they can bear the consequences of hurting Theon.”
Nica’s green eyes lit with a fire usually reserved for his tiger form. “Yes.”
I turned, standing tall between Braz and Nica. Something I hadn’t felt since the games slotted itself into place in my chest. Despite our various relations and differences, the three of us standing shoulder to shoulder against our enemies wasrightin a way I couldn’t really explain. We had been honed. We had been tested. We would stand firm against any foe and let them break in waves upon us.
I looked around the yard at the twenty or thirty other warriors present for the day’s training and felt the utter opposite of fear—anticipation. It sizzled in my blood. Swelled in my chest.
The sparring match ended and before the lieutenant could call the next group, I strode forward with Nica and Braz flanking me.
“I issue a challenge.” My voice rang loud, clear, and with the unmistakable edge of a growl. “Too long the champions of Pelas have walked among you, allowing whispers and insults to go unchecked.”
