I didn’t get too much time to contemplate my future heist, because a cold current of air whooshed beside me, and Ruadan was gone.

I scanned the darkness until my gaze landed on the cold glint of steel—Ruadan’s sword, across the park. I tuned into his shadows, then leapt to him. Once again, I overshot the mark, slamming into his chest. I stumbled back again, and his hand gripped my waist for just a moment before he released me.

It was starting to become clear that I needed to focus on the shadows around Ruadan, or I’d keep overshooting and ramming into the stone wall of his chest.

Then, another cold whoosh of air, his sword glinting twenty feet away. This time, I jumped to the shadows two feet behind him and swung my sword. But once again, he’d anticipated my moves. He parried, blocking my strike, then jumped away.

Always anticipate your enemy’s actions.

Ruadan continued to jump away, each time anticipating where I’d land just moments later. We shifted around, moving from the dark archways to the train tracks over the park. I nearly tumbled off the house on stilts before I regained my balance. We jumped again to an abandoned train station, then to the shoe tree.

Just like before, Ruadan kept demonstrating an uncanny ability to predict what I was about to do next. Almost as if we had been trained by the same person.

Had Baleros been Ruadan’s mentor at one time?

I needed to surprise him. I’d improved my skill already. I was no longer slamming into his chest. Since we were using longswords, we needed to be a few feet apart to parry, and each time, I landed just the right distance from him, quickly assuming my fighting stance. But maybe I didn’t have to use my weapon like a sword.

Ruadan leapt away, and I glimpsed his vibrant eyes in the darkness. I melded with the shadows just behind him. With a blur of speed, I brought my sword to his throat. It required standing on my tiptoes, pressed against him, which wasn’t the most stable position.

I whispered, “Drop the sword, pretty boy.”

Instead, he gripped my hand, pulling it down. Then, he ducked down to slip under my arm—a smooth, lightning-fast gesture.

Instantly, he was behind me, pinning my arms. I struggled against his grip for a moment. Then, I realized he was trying to communicate something to me.

He slid his hand down to my sword hand and pulled my weapon from me. Then, he handed me a dagger. A misericorde, to be precise. I wasn’t quite as skilled with daggers as I was with a sword, which might have been why we’d started in familiar territory. But I’d used stiletto knives plenty, and this wasn’t wildly different. Usually, misericordes were used for a final death stroke to a wounded gladiator—not for combat—but you could kill with it. Its name meant something like act of mercy, an end to suffering.

I stepped away from Ruadan’s grasp and turned the dagger around in my hand. “Is this what we’ll be using?” I asked.

He nodded.

“It’s not the best weapon to fight with….” I frowned, thinking it over. If we were fighting incubi, we wouldn’t be killing them. Incubi were immortal.

Slowly, understanding began to dawn. Hellhounds and other reaping demons had special tools they used to reap souls for their gods—to send them to one of the seven hells. Enchanted pens, daggers, and other sharp objects created by the gods themselves.

We wouldn’t be using daggers to assassinate, but to reap their souls. Once we stabbed an incubus, he’d be sent straight to the shadow hell—the void.

“A reaping dagger, right?”

Ruadan nodded.

“Please tell me we’re practicing with fake ones.”

He nodded again.

Good. That meant if we accidentally stabbed each other while we were practicing, we wouldn’t end up in the shadow hell.

Before I could ask another question, Ruadan was off again, shadow-leaping to the abandoned tracks.

We jumped and whooshed all over the park, blocking each other’s attacks. We whirled through the darkness, slowly getting to know each other’s quirks. Ruadan had a certain rhythm to his movements, moving slowly then fast again, and I started to be able to anticipate his jumps. He was aggressive but controlled, striking diagonally, aiming for my shoulder each time. Occasionally, he’d arc around to the side. Either he was certain I’d parry each strike, or he felt very confident in his healing skills, because he didn’t seem to be holding back.

Our pace sped up, and I moved like a lunar wind, skimming over the ground. The faster I moved, the more the magic started frosting my veins, and emptiness welled between my ribs. Apparently, there was a limit to how much shadow magic I could channel at one time, and my legs began trembling.

Baleros’s thirteenth law of power. Don’t let your opponent see your weaknesses. And never admit defeat.

The shadow magic sent my teeth chattering, but I didn’t want to relent, not while Ruadan was still leaping from shadow to shadow, evading me. I needed to keep going, to prove to him I wasn’t just a bar-brawling, whiskey-swilling waste of space.

Crush your enemy completely.

I let the shadow magic flood me, surging through my bones. As I flew across the park, emptiness billowed in my chest, and my mind flashed with images of a dirt floor, the bottom of a cage. Twelve dead fae by my feet, skin rotting, turning black….

The void was eating at me, and long-buried memories started to surface. Once, Baleros had given me a butterscotch sweet. I had been seventeen, far too old to be impressed by sweets, but I’d snatched it up from the dirt. I’d kept it with me in the cage, refusing to eat it.

You have a pathetic tendency to grow attached to anyone who shows you the smallest bit of kindness.

Baleros was right about me.

Cold fury erupted. I gritted my teeth, fighting to control the shadow power. I wanted blood. I wanted to win.

I had a vague sense that Ruadan wanted to stop, now, that the training was over, that I’d lost control of the magic, but Baleros’s voice rang in my head.

Crush your enemy completely.

Our swords sparked like stars in the night sky until a blast of frosted air whipped around me. My skin felt like cracking ice.

I wanted to leap again, but I’d lost track of Ruadan. Then, two powerful arms clamped around my torso, pinning my own arms down, and Ruadan’s muscled body pressed hard against me from behind.

His grip dominated me, and he squeezed my wrist hard until I dropped my dagger. It clanged against the stones.

At this point, I realized how violently I was shaking.

From behind me, Ruadan reached under my shirt and pressed his palm flat against my belly. Slowly, the flood of shadow magic began to even out again, and I slumped against him. Still, the surge of magic had depleted all of my energy, and my eyes were already starting to close.

Ruadan slipped an arm under my back, one under my legs as he lifted me.

And then, I rested my head on his powerful chest, and breathed in the scent of pine.

I woke on Ruadan’s cold flagstone floor. Nectarine light poured in through the windows. Was it sunrise? No, the sun didn’t hit this side of the building in the morning. I blinked. Sunset, then. I’d slept a very long time.

I reached for the pendant at my throat, only to realize someone had taken it off before laying me down.

I rubbed my eyes, and it took me a few seconds to realize that a blanket covered me. And a pillow—a gods-damned pillow lay on the floor.

I glanced across the room to find Ruadan dressing, strapping a series of knives to his waist.

Had he really given me a blanket and pillow? It was the first really kind thing he’d done for me. It was the first indication that he cared about my comfort beyond just seeing me to survive as part of his duty. I lifted the blanket to my nose, breathing in the scent of pine.

I scanned the room. A pie stood on the table, steam curling from its crust, and my stomach rumbled. Had he got me food as well? Last night, when we’d trained in the park, a sort of battle fury had taken over me. Ruadan had been my enemy. But what if he wasn’t? What if he actually liked me?

But as soon as I glanced at the arsenal on his wall once more, I froze. I was doing it again. My tendency to grow pathetically attached to anyone who showed me the smallest bit of kindness. Something sharp and cold pierced my chest.

Last night in the park, I’d felt completely overwhelmed by our kiss. It had ripped the world out from under my feet and left me in a free fall. But of course, it had just been part of the training, a way to get me to channel shadow magic. If Baleros had been able to channel magic that way, he would have. Now, I was letting Ruadan toy with my emotions.

Ruadan was being kind. And what had Baleros taught me about kindness? It gave a mentor power over their student. It made the recipient a slave.

Think about this carefully, Arianna. What had he done with his last two novices? He’d executed them. His own words. He’d execute me if he thought it necessary. As soon as Grand Master Savus gave the order, Ruadan would have my neck on the block, iron sword raised. He’d take my head clean off. He’d told me this much.

So what were the blanket and the pillow for?

He was Balerosing me, again. He fought like Baleros. He used my old master’s moves. He’d trained with Baleros—maybe was even trained by Baleros. And this was my fucking butterscotch sweet, the pathetic trinket I’d cling onto at the bottom of a dirt cage. This was my strawberry. The smallest bit of kindness….

I rose, my legs shaking, picking up the blanket as I did.

“I don’t need a fucking blanket,” I shouted. “Or a pillow. Got it?”

Ruadan whirled.

“I sleep on the floor. I look after myself. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it always will be. I don’t need this fucking pillow.” Anger flooded me, and I threw it at him. I knew how this worked. He’d throw me a few tokens, and I’d be his to control until it was time to lay my head on the chopping block. The betrayal would kill me before the blade ever did. I wouldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let myself die inside. “I don’t need your fucking butterscotch sweets.”

Ruadan’s brow furrowed, surprise etched across his perfect features.

Point one to me, Baleros. Never let your enemy anticipate your actions. Ruadan had definitely not been expecting me to yell at him about butterscotch sweets.

“It’s a metaphor,” I explained. Careful, Arianna. Careful. I couldn’t let him know how well I knew Baleros. Already, my rage was fizzling out. “Never mind. I just don’t need a blanket. I can sleep on the floor, and please don’t pretend to be nice to me because I know what you’re doing.”

Now, he looked irritated, and he pointed sharply at the pie, shadows whipping around him in savage arcs. Apparently, he’d heard my stomach rumble, and he’d assessed—correctly—that at least part of my fury had to do with my hunger.

I crossed to the table. “Thanks for the food. I understand that you need to keep me fed and to keep me from freezing to death.”

I sat down at the stone table, my mouth already watering. Potato and leek pie with gravy this time. Gods below, I no longer cared if he was trying to manipulate me, I wanted to wrap him up in my arms for getting me this pie. It melted in my mouth, rich and buttery.

“So I slept all day,” I said.

He nodded, then sat across from me, his enormous form looming over the table.

My limbs still ached. “I guess the shadow magic burned me out a little.”

It was actually damned lucky I’d been paired with Ruadan. While all of the other novices had been training someone with magic since birth, I’d needed someone part incubus to help me manage the full force of the magic. Someone to unfreeze me a little.

Ruadan pulled out a piece of paper, and he wrote

While you’re focused on crushing your opponent, you’re letting the magic overwhelm you. Remember to ground the magic in the earth below you, so you don’t burn out.

“I’ll be fine.” I took another bite of the pie. “So, when do we go after this nest of incubi?”

In a few hours.

I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t exactly ready for this, but I’d gone into battle unprepared before. And I’d lived.

I glanced at the pillow on the floor, and the feathers that had tumbled onto the stone. Somehow, the damn pillow—that little hint of kindness—scared me more than the incubi.