I frowned at him. “Gods below. Where did you come from?”

It had fallen so silent I could hear the moths flapping their wings. Shadows darkened the air around him.

“That’s right,” I said. “You’re the Wraith, and you don’t speak or engage in the common courtesy of having audible footsteps.”

I traced my fingertips over the book spines nearby. Assuming he’d seen what I was reading, I had to find some way to explain it. “Since you didn’t seem eager to train me and apparently are fine with leaving me to be executed, I thought I could at least learn about the Institute. I was just learning about the structure and all that, but you snatched my book away. So, are you going to teach me things, or do I have to keep reading?”

He wasn’t giving the book back. He just stood there with that unnatural stillness, shadows seeping into the air around him. It’s a good thing I had my headlamp on, or the billowing darkness would actually make it hard to see.

“Aren’t we supposed to have a magical bond of some kind?” I continued. “Our anathra? I think I may find myself at a disadvantage for tomorrow’s trial if I have no idea what it is. Everyone else is preparing for it today. Don’t you have any sense of duty?”

He nodded brusquely at the exit, then turned to stalk out of the library. Given his general shittiness with communication, I had to guess that he wanted me to follow him, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I could only stare at the two swords on his back as I followed him, wondering if one of them was destined for my throat.

Outside, the thunderstorm had returned, and a loud clap boomed over the Institute. Walking just behind Ruadan, I followed him across the overgrown Tower Green. He paused only to pull the headlamp off my head and toss it into the grass. I picked it up and shoved it back in my bag, then hurried after him. As we walked, the skies opened up, unleashing a torrent of cold rain on us.

I hugged myself, shivering as we walked. Where was he taking me, exactly? I didn’t feel great about our little stroll together.

Maybe it was the human history of the place—a Tower Green where monarchs had once burned and decapitated queens, lords, and priests for treason—but I couldn’t escape the feeling that he was leading me to my execution. I willed my heart rate to calm, gritting my teeth. I wasn’t going down without a fight, and I needed to keep my wits about me.

He led me into a dark passage that cut through one of the ancient tower walls. As we walked through the darkened tunnel, I scanned my surroundings in case I needed a weapon. But I could hardly see anything in here.

Ruadan was more at ease in the darkness than I was, and I wanted to turn my headlamp back on.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where we’re going?”

The response was a glare from cold, violet eyes that pierced the darkness. But in the next moment, the passage opened up into a misty cemetery. All around us, stone graves jutted from the ground at odd angles, like the rotting posts of an old pier.

Fog curled around the graves. As we walked deeper into the cemetery, I read the names on some of the stones.

Lord Aubrey de Vere

Edward Plantagenet, Earl of Warwick

Mark Smeaton

Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury

Queen Anne Boleyn

That’s where I paused, staring at her ornate headstone, engraved with an elaborate AB insignia. It was the first name I recognized, and I knew her story. Beheaded on the Tower Green for the crimes of incest and adultery—or, more accurately, for the heinous crime of continuing to exist after the king had fallen out of love with her.

These were humans who’d been executed here once, long ago. As traitors, they would have been buried in unmarked graves, so I had no idea what this place was.

I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on here, but some magic was at work. Perhaps, while the humans had ignored their traitorous dead, the fae had honored them in their own secret burials, in a cemetery cloaked by fae glamour.

I loosed a long breath. It was a place of death, but hopefully not of execution.

“So, what are we doing here?” I asked.

I honestly had no idea why I kept asking him questions.

Ruadan loomed over me. When he reached behind his back to draw a sword, fear raced up my spine. It took me a moment to realize he was handing it to me by the hilt. Razor sharp, its blade gleamed with rain drops.

I gripped it, already feeling more comfortable. As the Amazon Terror, sword fighting had been my particular speciality.

I flexed my fingers on the hilt. “Please tell me this is training for tomorrow and not that we’re supposed to fight each other to death right now.”

His response was a curt nod.

Okay. Good. We were making beautiful progress in our anathra relationship already.

Lightning cracked the sky above us, illuminating Ruadan’s masculine features, tendrils of dark magic, and the rigid set of his jaw. He drew his sword from the sheath at his back. His violet glare cut right through me, and he stood with that eerie, animal stillness—a viper about to strike its prey. The only things moving around him were his hair and his shadow magic.

I gripped my sword, readying my feet into a fighting stance. A gust of wind whipped at my skirt.

Ruadan narrowed his eyes at me, and the ice there slid right through me. In the next moment, he was lunging fast as the lightning cracking the darkness.

My instincts—and training—took over, and I parried. Our swords clashed, and we circled each other, movements fluid like dancers. The only sounds were our feet on the graveyard moss and our blades clanging against each other. A vicious slash from Ruadan, but I pivoted, avoiding his blade. His speed dizzied me, but somehow, it felt as though we could each predict the other’s moves. Still, he just kept speeding up, until my breath grew ragged in my lungs. If we kept up this pace, I’d get sloppy.

“Are you training me?” I grunted. “Or trying to kill me?”

He swung for me again, at the speed of a storm wind.

Baleros’s sixteenth law of power: Use the element of surprise.

Low to the ground, I slashed for his legs—not aiming to slice them, mind you. I’m not a complete monster. I just wanted to throw him off balance. It didn’t work. He leapt up into the air, avoiding my strike. I sprang to my feet again, and the ferocity of our training intensified in a storm of clashing steel and rushing air.

Now I was getting a handle on his speed, and I let my fae side take over as I dodged him and attacked with grace. As we fought, a dark smile curled my lips. My blood sang with the ancient beauty of warfare. It had been a long time since I’d been able to fight anyone who could keep up with me, and my heart thundered in my chest. Rain poured down hard, slicking my hair to my face. Was there anything more perfect than a beautiful fight?

I started driving him back toward one of the monuments. I’d pin him there, point my sword at his throat. Maybe, just maybe, the Amazon Terror was a match for the Wraith.

Dominate. Crush your enemies completely.

Lightning flashed, and when I caught the amused curl of his lips, my stomach lurched.

I’d seen my fair share of combat expressions, and this one read, I’ve been fucking with you.

How was it possible? No one ever beat me with a blade. Aengus’s warning that my cockiness would be the death of me rang in the back of my skull, irritating me to no end. I gritted my teeth, trying to focus solely on Ruadan. He was driving me backwards, now, cornering me between his sword and the willow tree behind me. Exactly the strategy I’d been trying to use. My blade sparked against his in the darkness, and I took another step back. I was losing ground to him at an alarming rate, but he just moved so breathtakingly fast, so precisely….

I hated losing. I gods-damn hated it.

He fought with a brutal, efficient ferocity that I couldn’t match. I’d never faced a man like him in the gladiator ring because a man like him would never let himself get caught in the first place. As I took another step back, a brief flash of self-hatred pierced my chest, so sharp it took my breath away. But in the next moment, it had dissipated.

At last, he had me pinned against the willow tree. With a violent slash, he knocked the sword from my hand. It fell in the dirt, and he thrust the point of his sword at my neck.

Had he just Balerosed me? Lulled me into thinking he was weaker and slower than he was so I’d let down my guard? I think he had. And now, he’d pinned me here. I was completely defenseless.

A deep rage roiled in me. I hated being dominated, hated being proven inadequate, and I had to bite down hard on the urge to scream obscenities at him. That wasn’t a graceful way to lose. And in any case, I wasn’t one to give up so easily. Maybe I wasn’t completely defenseless. After all, swords weren’t the only tools around us.

Use the environment to your advantage.

Adrenaline snapped through my nerve endings. I channeled my strength, then leapt up, grabbing a tree branch that hung over me. I ignored the sharp sting of Ruadan’s blade as it grazed my abdomen, and I gripped the branch. Then, I swung my legs, kicking Ruadan hard in the head. He staggered back.

As I dropped down, he was already bringing the blade of his sword up toward my neck. But I’d anticipated that, and I leaned away from it, thrusting his sword hand away from me. With my free hand, I punched him hard in the chin, using all the force I could muster. Then, I slammed my foot into his gut. When he doubled over, I kicked him in the face again, but he was still gripping his sword.

He straightened. His eyes darkened, and he dropped his sword of his own accord. Somehow, the gesture scared me more than if he’d brandished it at me. Like he’d just been fucking around before, and now he meant business. When he snarled, I had the disturbing feeling that he was about to prove a point—the point being that he could kick my arse without a weapon.

I swung for his face again—but this time, he caught my fist in his hand. Twisting my arm, he whirled me around and slammed me hard into the tree trunk. I didn’t give him too much time before I brought my elbow back, hard, into his gut—one, two, three times. He loosened his grip on me.

I dodged around him and started raining punches on him, but he blocked every blow. His arms moved in a blur of speed, and he didn’t even look like he was breaking a sweat. The only sign that I’d gotten to him was the terrifying darkness of his eyes, like I was looking into the void itself.

My breath was coming in short gasps, and I was getting frantic, now. I swung wildly. He ducked. And when he came up again, he punched me brutally hard in the shoulder. A jolt of pain shot through my arm, and I spun from the force, facing the tree.

The next thing I knew, he was gripping my hair with one hand, while his other hand was on my chin, his muscled body pressed against mine. He’d worked me into the perfect angle to snap my neck, and I was completely powerless in his grip. Then, I felt the brush of his canines against my throat. Pure fae domination. I shuddered at the feel of those teeth on my skin. My knees went weak, and I nearly fell.

My pulse raced wildly, my heart slamming against my ribs. I gasped for air. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t breaking my spine. I had the feeling he wanted me to cry mercy or something.

I had to remind myself that this was supposed to be training, not a fight to the death. Had I learned something from this exercise? Primarily, not to fight someone known as the Wraith.

“Okay,” I gritted out. “You’ve made your point. You’re very strong and manly, and I’m not a match for you. Yet.”

Slowly, he released me. I pushed my soaking-wet hair off my face.

Oh, I was in deep, deep over my head with this one.