“Kora?” Klarissa waves a dismissive hand. “I’m not here about Kora. It’s only been a day, and I would little worry about her just yet. I’m here to see—ah, River. There you are.”

I feel the large male’s steady footsteps behind me, an aura of responsibility filling the air as he steps closer to the door. With a small motion of his wide shoulders, he cuts the line of sight between Klarissa and me. “Yes, Elder?” he says. Low, respectful, and cold enough to chill ice.

“Have you given any more thought to our discussion?” Klarissa asks, her voice as smooth as her champagne elder’s robe. They must have had some official Elders Council business today.

“No,” River says.

I hold my breath, childishly hoping the elder will argue her point—whatever it is—here and now. Force River’s hand into revealing the truth.

“I see.” The elder shrugs one delicate shoulder as if she couldn’t care less, but her dark eyes flash with frustration. “Well, that is your prerogative, of course. Now then, I believe it’s past time that you fully embraced your status as a Citadel initiate.”

Reaching into a hidden pocket in her robe, Klarissa withdraws two envelopes, handing one to River and the other to Tye. “As I’m sure you’ll agree, up to this point, the council has been unusually lenient in allowing you freedom to train as you see fit. That ends now. We find the results of your efforts unsatisfactory and will thus be making better use of your quint’s time and expertise from now on. The new regimen will benefit all of the Citadel, so I wished to deliver your initial assignments personally. To ensure there was no misunderstanding.”

Tye frowns at his envelope. “Was there someone more responsible you intended to address this to, Elder?” He sighs when Klarissa motions for him to read the note, and then his face hardens to stone. A heartbeat later, the paper in his hand flickers with yellow flames. “No.”

“Did I say something to imply I was offering a suggestion, trainee?” Klarissa says, her voice never rising from its normal musical alto.

River rips his own dispatch open, his jaw tightening as his gaze cuts from it to Tye. “You shouldn’t ask this of him, Elder,” River says, so quietly that a chill runs down my spine. “Neither is Leralynn remotely ready.” He steps forward, his gorgeous gray eyes locked on Klarissa’s dark ones. “If you are unhappy with me, Elder, punish me. Not them.”

Klarissa blinks, her face a portrait of confusion. “What in the world are you talking about, River? No one is being punished at all. The simple truth is that, as a trainee, you should never have been allowed to dictate your own training. We deviated from that, and now the results speak for themselves—the drills you put Leralynn through will not save her from an overzealous puppy, much less the qoru.”

Before River can respond, Klarissa turns to Tye. “I expect to see your full effort tomorrow. If I see that you are pulling punches, I will find another instructor for the class. One who might not appreciate the fact that your mortal has a trial to take in seven—no, now six days.”

“What was that all about?” I ask after Klarissa leaves in a flurry of silk, followed by Tye, who slams the door in his wake. “And why would you think Klarissa wants to punish you, River?”

River’s fist tightens, his eyes not meeting mine. “The council is unhappy with our progress. As the quint’s commander, I’m responsible.”

Not a lie and yet my chest squeezes uncomfortably at River’s words. “What about Tye?”

Autumn rises on her toes to peer at River’s note and winces. “I’ll explain over dinner. Without the . . .” She throws a dark look at the males, as if it was River, Coal, and Shade’s wolf who failed to deliver good news of Kora. “Them.”

With no argument from the males—in large part because there is no time for such things, with Autumn lacing her arm through my elbow and striding out the door, iridescent coral silk billowing around her—the two of us find a cozy table beside the enormous tapestry of the fae female playing a harp. Soft evening light streams in through the tall windows, warming my back and making me close my eyes for a moment in blissful, pain-free comfort.

My plate is filled with venison, rice, and a spicy-smelling vegetable medley, Autumn’s with three carrots and a stick of celery. Catching my scrutiny of her selection, she gives me a warning glare. “Did you want to know what was in Klarissa’s note or not?”

I wisely nod and cut into the venison, letting the female speak at her own pace.

Autumn lays her forearms on the edge of the table. “I obviously only saw River’s, but I imagine there is little difference. A bit of waxing eloquent from the council about the swiftly approaching first and third trials, then a reminder that should you fail next week’s test, the runes will take your lives—as if River was confused at all about the stakes. Finally—and this is what has Tye upset—the council is ordering him to teach classes for trainees with fire magic. That includes you.”

I frown. “That can’t be it. Tye trained with me the day before yesterday. And truth be told, I think he enjoyed it.”

“He played with you the day before yesterday,” Autumn said with a wince of sympathy. “Coal is the only one who’s ever trained with you, and swordplay is a different breed altogether. You are rather unlikely to kill yourself or anyone else with a dull practice blade. Tye works with fire magic, which is about the most dangerous affinity there is, and a very harsh one to train. That male is happy to drive himself into disaster, but he despises making others hurt. Plus, Tye has a self-diagnosed allergy to responsibility.”

I frown, chewing over her words. Dangerous, I can understand, but harsh? That word seems as un-Tye-like as a word could get. And Tye is everything he seems in other ways too, isn’t he? I swallow. “So Klarissa is making Tye teach to torment him?”

“No. I think that’s more of a fringe benefit. I really think the council wants him to teach simply because, for once, they can make him do it. Tye is a great deal more skilled than you realize.”

“I know our quint is the second most powerful, after the Elders Council,” I say. “Or was, before me.” I try not to sound bitter at how close to the bone the words cut.

Autumn shakes her head. “Oh, he’s bloody powerful. They all are—River especially. But I’m talking about skill. Precision. Before the quint call, Tye was one of Lunos’s top flex athletes—that’s like acrobatics with magic. It isn’t a secret exactly, but Tye never brings it up. I’m truly unsure why, to be honest—it isn’t as if he’s shy about bragging.”

No. He isn’t. I twist my braid around my index finger, wondering what sort of game the male is playing. The one I’ve played into. Who Tye is behind that cocky grin. “Can I ask you something?” Autumn nods and I take a fortifying sip of wine. “Tye always talks about wanting females, but has he ever been shy about, you know, actually making good on his word?” I hold my breath while Autumn finishes chewing, hating to have timed the question so poorly. But at least I asked.

Autumn shakes her head before speaking. “Oh, he makes good on his word. Sometimes he makes good even before his word. That one doesn’t lack for female company. Ever.”

My stomach sinks. So it is something about me.

Autumn frowns. “Has he been playing about?”

“No.” For some reason, I’m sure of that. “I was just—never mind.” Before I can dissect the thought further, the bell tolls another hour and Autumn flinches, her brilliant gray eyes clouding.

My chest tightens for her. “Is Kora very late now?” I ask softly, the din of the dining hall a steady backdrop to our low voices.

Autumn rolls her carrots around her plate, her fork herding the little orange logs into a perfect circle. “Technically not. It’s been thirty hours. That’s about the average time quints take to return, so mathematically speaking, half the quints take longer. Math is just little helping today.” She rubs her face. “I didn’t think I would care this much until she left, you know? It isn’t as if we are . . .”

“I know.” I squeeze her hand. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Not unless you have some sway with the council that I don’t know about.” She stabs a carrot, frowning when it splits apart. “I’m overreacting. Truly. And I was worse when River and his lot went. See, the council had dumped them at a temple near the Mors border and Tye light-fingered one of the artifacts. They were nearly back to the Citadel when River discovered it, and he made them all return to put the damn thing back.” She points her fork at me. “Considering that the runes kill any trainee not back at the Citadel within three days, you can imagine the popularity of that particular decision.”

“I’d have killed the bastard,” I say. “Both of them.”

Autumn gives a small chuckle. “You are much better at talking than River is.” She pauses. “I need dessert before I can conjure a better compliment. That was admittedly weak.”

A follow-up chime sounds before I can respond, and Autumn rises from the table, picking up her unfinished plate. “I should clear the dishes.”

I grab the female’s wrist, waiting until she meets my eyes. “If there is anything—anything—in my power to help Kora, you need only say the word and I’ll do it. You have my promise on that.”

Her eyes soften. “Thank you, Lera. That helps.”

Tye fails to return to the suite before I head to bed, snuggling against a warm—if still shedding—wolf. When I rise in the morning, Tye is already gone, the ominous absence making me shiver.

A note brought with the breakfast tray confirms Tye’s assignment to teach a class to all Citadel trainees with a fire-magic affinity, which has one Leralynn-the-mortal on its roster. I pull my hair back with a leather thong and straighten my burgundy tunic, breathing courage into my lungs. So long as Tye doesn’t repeat that little trick from earlier before a dozen other trainees, I’ll get through the morning one way or another.

Coal surveys me from across the room, his gaze lingering on my shoulder.

Obligingly, I move the joint in a circle for his inspection. “You could just ask me how I’m feeling.”

“Asking would yield your opinion,” Coal answers, his voice calm. “When I watch you move, I get facts.”

Right. Well, at least one of us appears back to normal. I push down a pang of jealousy. Just standing beside Coal is making my stomach churn and my thighs press together, neither of which I find helpful just now. Grabbing a sweet roll from the platter, I start for the door. The sooner I’m out of this suite, the better. For many reasons. “I’ll see you later,” I call over my shoulder. “Tye left without waiting for me this morning, and I’m of a mind to ambush him before class starts.”

The chill air outside wakes my skin, the scent of roses from the thorny bushes lining our walkway an uncomfortable reminder of the Citadel’s odd duality. Luxury and brutality. Courtesy and control. A cocky female-obsessed Tye and the real male beneath.

I shiver, rubbing my hands over my upper arms. A heavy mist cloaks the pathways and lawns of the Citadel grounds, the morning sun having not yet burned it off. The grounds are quiet, only the distant scraping of feet on paving stones echoing faintly off the tall marble buildings.

“Mortal. Wait,” Coal says behind me, a few steps bringing him from the door to my side. Hair back in its usual tight bun, the warrior is dressed in a sleeveless black tunic and leather breeches, a long blade strapped along his spine. Stopping a step away, he gazes down at me, his blue eyes brilliant and sharp enough to pierce my chest.

The foot of air between us heats, crackling with an energy that prickles along my skin.

Coal swallows. “I wanted to say . . . I wanted to thank you, mortal.” His large, calloused hand reaches for my face, pulling away into a fist without ever making contact. “For—”

I grab Coal’s wrist, saving him from finishing his sentence. “Walk me to the practice arena?”

He gives me a grateful nod and starts us into motion, his eyes never stopping their assessment of me. “Don’t worry about the chill. You’ll be warm enough once training starts.”

Right. “So”—I make my voice light—“anything you want to tell me about this training of Tye’s?”

Coal puts his hands behind his back, considering the question a great deal longer than I thought he would. “No,” he says finally. Several steps later, he adds, “Only that you should not expect to do well.”