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“Mating barbs?” Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better.
“They’ll release in a few moments if you’re still,” Hellion explained with a wink. “They’re only supposed to extend when they’re mating, but sometimes they get a little extra excited. Don’t be too concerned. They’re not sharp and you won’t get hurt if you stay still until they recede, which I imagine won’t be too much of a problem. They secrete a mild narcotic, so you should be feeling very nice shortly.”
I barely heard the end of that explanation. Already, my head was floating away from my body, which had gone completely limp in Cian’s arms. I had a million questions, but none of them seemed important.
Time became a blur of pleasant sensations. I was vaguely aware of shifting positions, and the cool kiss of a cloth moving over my body.
The first thing I was truly aware of after was the weight of Hellion’s leg thrown over mine. Soft fingertips combed through my hair and my beard. It was dark, and the camp was quiet.
“Nevahn?” came Cian’s voice next to my ear.
I turned my head toward him. “I’m here.”
He let out a breath. The hand stroking my beard pulled me against his forehead in a gentle embrace. “I’m glad. How do you feel?”
“Sore,” I admitted. I’d probably be sitting gingerly for a few days after that, but it wasn’t just my ass. There was a mild burning ache in my muscles, as if I’d just gotten a hell of a workout.
Hellion shifted on the other side of me, and then a moment later, they were helping me to sit up and offering me water. I took it and drank eagerly, emptying the whole glass.
“I’m sorry,” Cian murmured, stroking a thumb through my beard again. “I should’ve warned you about the barbs. I just didn’t think… They’ve never…” He sighed. “I’ve never had that happen with a male lover before.” He sounded…embarrassed.
I smiled and touched his cheek. “Would it be weird if I said I liked it?”
“Of course you did,” said Hellion with a chuckle. “You’re a good little fucktoy who likes to be used for his purpose.”
I flushed hot, but cooled slightly when Cian caught my lips in a kiss. “You’re amazing,” he said.
My heart sank a little not to get another chance to return his “I love you” with one of my own, but maybe it just wasn’t the right time. I was still coming down, still sore, and thoroughly exhausted.
We settled back into bed. Cian and Hellion’s legs became a tangle in mine. Arms and wings wrapped around me, a cocoon of darkness, and I slept, dreaming of flying.
Sharpenedsteelflashed.Thedry earth of the training circle rolled under my feet as if it were alive, forcing me forward into a slide. Too far, too fast, too close. I moved out of the way of Nisang’s blade, but not far enough to avoid the cross guard and its quillons, sharpened into dangerous barbs.
I froze just as a steel barb kissed the exposed skin of my throat. The point went no further. Nisang’s control was as impressive as his strength and speed.
He let the threat linger a beat longer than needed and pulled back. “You’re dead. Again.”
The trio of Skaags leaning against the training yard’s wooden poles snickered. I scowled at them as I walked back to the other end of the circle to reset, shaking out my arms.
“Defense first,” Nisang repeated for the millionth time. “A half-ass block is better than a perfectly executed strike. You can’t counterstrike if you’re dead. Think.” Despite his harsh words, there wasn’t an ounce of frustration or malice in his tone.
“How am I supposed to block a sword twice the length of mine?” I gestured to his long sword, a two-handed estoc appropriately named Thorn. It was a beautiful blade, the cross guard and pommel adorned with rose ornamentation. Whoever had made it had certainly captured Nisang’s flare for the dramatic.
“Didn’t anyone tell you size doesn’t matter?” Nisang smirked.
More snickering from the Skaags. I ignored them.
“Matters to me,” I muttered and tried not to show how sore I still was as I took a few steps back.
The gargoyle’s smile faded. “On the battlefield, you don’t get to choose who comes at you or how they’re armed. A foot soldier must be equally equipped to fight cavalry and infantry. How I’m armed is barely significant if you know what you’re doing.” He gestured for us to continue.
I moved into position, using the stance and guard I was most comfortable with. Odan’s training had mostly focused on the physical and mental aspects of fighting, but Hellion had been drilling me on the basics of footwork, guard, and strike. I wasn’t completely new, but I was no match for Nisang. Sweat beaded on my skin under my borrowed leather armor.
We circled each other for two steps, three, keeping our distance. A heartbeat. Half a breath.
Nisang moved, every step a dance step to some drum beat I couldn’t hear. He had closed the distance he needed long before I could’ve gotten within range to strike him. Thorn’s long, thin blade sliced through the air, the thrusting edge going…
There.
