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“Because a long time ago, I didn’t have the luxury. And it cost me. Dearly,” I answer as I level my gaze with his, sobering him instantly.
“And the third?” he croaks.
“I’m a fucking psychic, you dumbass,” I tell him, rolling my eyes as I shake my head at the sheer stupidity housed in a single person.
“Huh. I didn’t know you were an oracle. How come you still have your eyes?”
“I’m not an oracle,” I mutter, massaging my temples, praying for patience. “Just a lowly little seer on the run from her Legion. I like my eyes parked exactly where they are—even if they are ugly as sin.”
“Valid.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Wanna help me up?”
“You still planning on pulling me down? ’Cause ground tactics aren’t going to work so well for you when I fry your ass from the inside out.”
He purses his lips in contemplation. “I think I’ll get myself up.”
“Good plan,” I mutter as the big man slowly pulls himself to standing, hobbling off the mat.
West and Javier bow to the canvas, then to each other, and start sparring on the far end. They are doing a light-touch technique that focuses more on control of movements rather than strikes.
Carver starts clapping slowly, and I use the bokken like a cane, performing a little bow before stowing the sword on its pegs and moving out of the way.
“Enjoy the show?”
“Immensely,” he purrs. “You know they were just playing, right? They wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Because I’m a girl?” I ask incredulously.
“Because their king has offered you his protection. They only wanted to see what you were made of.”
“And here I went easy on them. If I had known it was a dog and pony show, I would have shown some of my best tricks.”
“Don’t be a snot, dear,” he derides with a scoff. “It’s unbecoming.”
“Don’t be condescending,” I growl. “It’s rude.”
“Touché. So what happened this morning? I thought we were getting ready for a fight, and it turns out, you blew up your room. People were phased, shit was on fire.” He shoots me a bewildered side-eye. “What the fuck, girlie?”
I shrug, trying to think of a way to explain the drama without sounding like a complete fucking nutter. There isn’t.
Might as well go with the truth.
“Well. I have dreams. Sometimes they’re visions and sometimes they’re flashbacks. Either way, they make me completely batshit crazy. On occasion, I wake up screaming my head off and setting shit on fire by accident. Rhys is not familiar with my episodes, so there was a”—I pause, holding up my fingers spaced ever so slightly apart—“misunderstanding this morning.”
“So, you’re telling me he was yelling the house down because he was worried about you?”
Pursing my lips, I nod. “Essentially.”
“And this is a problem because…?”
Oh, the can of worms the honesty would open.
Wincing, the crux of the matter ekes past my lips. “We have a history and it’s not pleasant.”
“Don’t we all? Maybe, since he gives a shit and all, you should cut him some slack? Friends are hard to come by.”
Sage advice. Too bad it’s easier said than done.
“You’re not the first person to tell me that today.”
