“Are you limping, Lilac Girl?” Tye inquires, watching me suspiciously as I navigate my plate from the meat and fruit platters toward the table that the males commandeered for the midday meal. After this morning’s argument with River, and Coal’s idiotic training notion, I’d have refused to share a meal with them altogether except that Kora and her quint are leaving for their third trial after this and the gathering is a bit of a sendoff.

Not that I have a prayer of being good company with the image of Coal’s shaking body haunting my every breath, the wrongness of our connection this morning like a layer of vile grease smearing my soul. There has to be a better way. Certainly, there’s no further to go in the other direction.

“Lass?” Tye prompts.

I set my plate of watermelon and grilled lamb on the table, pretending to hold the dish with both hands. In reality, my right arm throbs from Coal’s opening volley and can’t hold a pen, much less a plate. As for limping . . . I frown at my leg. I might be. With all the other parts of my body screaming their displeasure, it’s hard to tell what I’m favoring when. My stomach turns at the sight of food. “I’m just hungry.”

“Oh, aye,” Tye says slowly. “That explains it. Of course.”

The dining hall is its usual echoing din, the voices of hungry warriors bouncing off the peaked ceiling two stories above. As always, the occasional head swivels toward me for a quick look, curious about the tiny mortal training alongside the most formidable quint ever to come out of this place. I’ve grown reasonably good at ignoring it. Thankfully, Malikai and his quint are now keeping their distance, content to glare silently from the far side of the hall.

I glance toward Coal and find the warrior coldly unwilling to meet my eyes, so I choose a seat beside Shade instead. The shifter, in his fae form for the occasion—over Autumn’s loud objections—gives me a too-worried look.

I quickly turn to Kora, conjuring a smile. “So, how are you feeling?”

The tall female smiles a bit shyly, so at odds with her usual commanding aura. “Rather excited, to be honest. The runes will allow up to three days to complete the trial, but the council elders told me they expect us back in one, which is encouraging.”

Autumn’s jaw tightens. “Promise me you’ll go for safety over glory, Kora.”

Kora’s cheeks flush a light pink, her long fingers brushing Autumn’s in the first open display of affection I’ve seen between them. “We will share the evening meal tomorrow. How about I promise you that?”

While Kora wears her quint’s usual green tunic, her short brown hair neat and no-nonsense, Autumn looks like she’s dressed up for the occasion—or dressed up for Kora. In a silvery green skirt that nips in at her waist and swishes around her legs like water and a matching bandeau top that highlights every inch of her delicate curves, she looks even more like a mischievous wood imp than usual. Her long blond braids are swept back in a high ponytail, showing off the stunning silver hoops shimmering at her ears.

Seeing Autumn’s gaze fatally caught on Kora’s hand, I take up the reins of the conversation. “Tell me more about the third trial,” I say, making my voice light. Festive. “I know the quint is separated and must reunite and find its way back. Is there more to it?”

“I imagine Prince River would be better to ask than I,” Kora says, clearly unaware of just how little I want to ask Prince River about the latrines, much less the trials.

“That is the essence of it,” River says smoothly, his voice betraying nothing of our morning argument. Perhaps it was a nonevent to him. My chest tightens. Coal, Tye, and Shade accept the quint’s hierarchy without question, and River appears to expect the same of me. Just another subordinate for a male used to having a whole court bend a knee. River turns slightly, encompassing both Kora and me with his words while the rest of Kora’s quint leans in to listen.

I shift my gaze to him, quietly hoping the male will drop a juicy piece of lamb right onto his crisply tailored navy-blue tunic.

“The Field Trial simulates capture and escape,” River says. “An elder will blindfold you and take you through the Gloom to your ‘capture’ location, triggering a rune to make you sleep before he leaves. You will be out for under a minute but it will feel longer when you wake. You will be disoriented. As if you’d truly been captured. Your priority will be to find each other, orient yourselves, and return to the Citadel—likely by finding folds in the Gloom to speed your travel. I recommend that, before the trial, you decide whether your meeting point will be in the Light or the Gloom. And while you don’t know the landscape of your trial, you could name a relative meeting spot. The base of the tallest tree in sight, for example. Alternatively, if you have a shifter with an appropriate form, you could agree for everyone to stay put while the animal rounds up the group.”

“Celia shifts to a hawk,” Kora says, nodding to a dark-haired warrior whose long nose makes me think of a bird’s beak. “We plan to gather where the hawk can find us. The Gloom first, and then, if after twelve hours anyone is still alone, we will move into the Light. It will change the distances but create a new avenue of approach.”

River nods approvingly and moves on to a discussion of marker placement and strategy that I tune out. The third trial is a ways off for us—anything beyond next week’s test is—and for the moment, I’ve more than enough to occupy my mind.

Including Shade’s hand, which I realize has been stroking my hair for some time now.

“Hello, cub,” the male purrs, his high cheekbones and full lips only inches from me when I turn to face him. “And here I thought I might need to bite you before you’d grant me attention.”

“By the smell of ye, Shade,” Tye drawls, “you’ve had plenty of the lass’s attention.”

My cheeks flame but Shade’s beautiful face only settles into a contented smile as he draws me closer to him. “By the smell of you, you haven’t.”

I push Shade away, wondering if embarrassment could, in fact, be fatal. “Could you two stop smelling me? And each other? And, just, stop smelling.”

A corner of Shade’s mouth twitches. “How will we know anything about you if we do that?”

“You could ask.”

“Oh, aye,” Tye says, rolling his eyes. “Because that worked out well when I asked after your limp a wee bit ago.”

Shade’s gaze narrows on me, the predatory intent so potent that my heart skips a beat, then quickens in warning. Before I can take defensive measures, he snakes an arm beneath my knees and—ignoring my gasp—lifts me onto his lap.

A low, velvet chuckle brushes the back of my neck as Shade settles me possessively against him. The heat of his large body wraps around me like a blanket, his arms encircling my shoulders and rubbing with heartbreaking gentleness along my bruised and sore flesh. Not healing magic, but a power of a different sort seeps through me, filling me with the male’s warmth. “How did training go, cub?”

My hand tightens on my fork and I strategically bite into a cube of watermelon, buying a few seconds to conjure an answer. Or better yet, to shove Coal into explaining exactly how flaying himself open was the new prize training strategy.

“It went fine,” Coal says finally, slicing through the thickening silence. In his usual sleeveless black tunic and matching pants, the warrior wraps darkness around himself so tightly that there is no telling where one ends and the other begins.

I glare at him.

Coal raises his chin, challenging me to say anything different. Under his skin, lean muscles shift in movements so familiar that it’s all I can do to evict the sudden memory of his bare, sweat-slicked torso from my thoughts.

Tye takes a long swig of wine. “Well, Coal is a perpetual optimist, so there is that to consider.”

Coal drains his wine cup, nothing of what truly happened visible in his eyes. Centuries of experience concealing the truth, even from his quint brothers, pays its dividends in his steady gaze and confident posture. “Right elbow, lower left ribs, left thigh just above the knee,” he says, jerking his chin at me while looking at Shade. “I realize magic isn’t an option, but if you’ve salve, use it.”

My mouth opens. With my body one giant ache, Coal’s accounting is keener than my own would have been. I left him alone and shaking on the sand, while he kept tabs on my bruises. Stars. Before Coal spoke, I doubted the male had been aware of even landing the strikes, much less which of them left the deepest marks.

Coal catches my gaze. “I choose my targets, mortal. And I hit what I aim for.” He rises, his plate now empty. “A skill you’d do well to improve upon before next week.” Turning to the table, Coal gives a nod to Kora—his equivalent of a salute for luck—and strides out of the dining hall.

My hands are shackled, pinned high enough over my head to make my shoulders scream. There is no key. The qoru’s touch makes the metal rust clean through when it’s time to release the hold—until then, there is no escape. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

A dream. This is a dream and I want to wake up. Need to wake up.

The overseer kicks my legs apart, the smell of blazing metal strong enough to overpower the stench of decay. I know that’s impossible, but fear toys with my senses. Lashes are better than burns. Anything is better than burns. But I know there is no hope. These won’t be the qoru’s usual games, not today.

Wake up, wake up, wake up. I dig a fingernail into my palm. Wake up. Please.

The overseer snatches up a white-hot rod. Today is punishment.

I gasp awake, my body shaking, the bedding around me soaked with sweat. In the aftershocks of the nightmare, dream wraiths of mottled gray skin and round, lipless mouths drink their final fills of my terror. My heart pounds, my breath stretching my lungs.

A wet lupine tongue laps the inside of my ear, soft, worried yips brushing my soul. Outside, the Citadel bell tolls two hours past midnight. The middle of the night. As if I would dare return to sleep now.

I push myself up, hissing as my bruised muscles are forced into motion. Not the pleasant type of soreness that follows a heavy workout, but the deep hurt that seizes each motion, despite the salve Shade gently spread over my skin before shifting back into his wolf. All courtesy of the same source as the nightmare.

The wolf whines softly, prodding me with his snout.

“I’m all right,” I mutter, trying and failing to shove two hundred pounds of animal away from me. If I’m not careful, Shade will damn the consequences and shift back into fae form just to heal my hurts. To care for me, like all the males do in their own way.

Like Coal did in the paddock this morning.

“I left him,” I whisper, my heart squeezing.

The wolf blinks at me in sleepy confusion and tries to lick my ear again.

I swallow, wriggling off the bed, my blue nightshirt brushing my thighs. I left Coal shaking on his knees while echoes of his power still raced through my veins. I was unhappy about his tactics, his choices, and so I left. Stars.

No more. Enough of them doing what’s best for me. It’s time I did what’s best for them. Starting with Coal.

Ignoring Shade’s indignant whine and the cold air raising tiny bumps across my skin, I stalk into the corridor. The way today has gone thus far, I’ll come out ahead even if Coal decides to tear me fiber from fiber. And if he does . . . I’d rather bear the brunt of Coal’s fury than ever see the male on his knees again.

My breath stills as I knock on Coal’s door, sweat coating my palms despite the chill. Around me, the sleeping suite mutters its usual nightly sounds of steady breathing and the dull whine of floorboards, the latter coming from our singularly nocturnal upstairs neighbors. Amidst it all, the soft rap of my knuckles against Coal’s door sounds loud as thunder.

No answer.

I frown, my resolve faltering for a moment before I reclaim it and knock again. Louder.

Nothing. Not even when I put my ear against the door. Not Coal’s breathing, not the creaking of a mattress, not even the echo of the tolling bell that seems to vibrate through every other wall. Truly nothing is coming from that door. As if something is purposely ensuring silence . . . just in case Coal wakes with a scream.

My pulse quickens. “Coal?” A final, futile attempt to get an answer.

I take a breath and let myself in.