“Let’s try a different power,” Rokath suggested. “That’s why I retrieved two different ones. We have to be sure.”

The second had kind garnet eyes and was soft spoken. He quickly explained his Chaos powers and how he bypassed the conscious mind of his opponents to cause confusion. Once again, I pulled a new form around me. At least that facet of my magic received a thorough exercise, even if I was failing at others.

Others that were the difference between life and death.

Swallowing, I focused on what the male had said about his power. Our eyes locked, I attempted to force his capabilities back onto him.

After several minutes of yanking on the threads of darkness, he shook his head. “There is nothing.”

I dropped my hold immediately, spine now slick with sweat. My magic was nothing more than smoky wisps, nearly extended to its maximum. My well hadn’t been this empty since the early days of the conscription.

Yet disappointment washed over me at my abject failure. What if I couldn’t mimic their magic? Or anyone else’s?

Rokath grunted and then dismissed the two.

Tears burned my eyes and I swiped the backs of my wrists at them before anyone could see. My mate rested a hand on my shoulder, circling me around to face him.

“At least we tried and now we know,” he told me, his tone even and almost reassuring.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice fractured. “Maybe it’s only certain types of magic I can imitate. We can keep trying until we find it.”

Rokath shook his head and steered me to sit beside Rapp on the bale of hay. “Every power has limits. This is yours. And no one will respect you less because you can’t imitate their magic.”

His words were a balm to my anxiety. The love sweeping down our bond soothed the ache further.

Rapp elbowed me in the side, drawing my attention. “We win some battles, we lose others. What’s most important is that in the end, we win the war. Your magic is powerful enough to help with that, and we’ll figure out how to use it best.”

“Thanks,” I sighed, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

Rokath crossed his arms across his broad chest and settled into a deeper stance. “We’ll keep training, every day, to ensure you can fight, both with your magic and weapons. I have other ideas to try that might assist you. But with the gong about to sound, we don’t have time for that today.”

“How do you know–” I started, but my words were smashed by the ringing he foretold.

Rapp laughed, clutching his side to support his ribs. “Just like old times.”

Rokath rolled his eyes and hoisted his friend to his feet. “After decades, you get used to it,” he told me. Then, together, the three of us streamed behind the other males leaving the training arena for the cool walls of the military academy’s fortress.

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21

Astring of curses fled my lips as I yanked on the knob to yet another supply closet. “Why are there so many fucking doors in this place?” I mumbled to myself as I slammed it shut. With a huff, I continued down the fourth-floor hall in search of the stairwell.

Really should have accepted that tour from Rokath.

My mate was currently occupied, preparing for Xannirin and Kiira’s arrival. I’d wanted to see where the females would be housed and ensure it was clean because I’d been around these males long enough to know what was passable for them. And that they’d not spent nearly enough time around females to be attuned to our needs in the slightest.

Rokath’s directions to their barracks—down two landings of the spiral staircase from his office, first left down the long hall, out onto the inner curtain, second door on the right, down another spiral staircase, and then I’d be there.

Supposedly.

I was still looking for the long fucking hall.

Cursing my mate under my breath, I threw open another door, expecting to find a broom staring me in the face. To my surprise, a vast stretch of space awaited me. “Finally,” I muttered, striding through. Voices drifted down the stone walls, which was another good sign.

The heavy oak swung shut behind me with a loud thump. A moment later, the gong reverberated through the keep. I kept walking, determined to reach the first left before males swarmed from one place to the next.

Yet as I continued on, no hurried footsteps echoed around me. No baritone laughter greeted me.

Am I in the wrong hall?

The first split came upon me, and I quickened my pace, heading to the left. I glanced down the right hand path as I turned, only to slam to a halt.

“Please, make it stop,” a male whimpered, curled in on himself with his hands over his ears. His clothes hung limp over his frame, and his pale skin was soaked in sweat. Back pressed against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, body trembling, he was clearly not okay.

I eased one foot in front of the other as I approached, not wanting to startle him. As I got closer, I lowered myself to the ground so I wasn’t towering over him. “Hello,” I said, keeping my tone level and even.

With a start, he ripped his eyes open, revealing a crimson shade. My heart twisted. He’d been on the front lines, and Fates knew for how long.

“Can you make it stop?” he asked, his voice so broken that tears blurred my vision. His hands still pressed to the sides of his head.

“The gong?” I clarified, blinking rapidly to banish the salt.

He nodded.

The final peal rang out a moment later, leaving a descending vibration in its wake. I waited for it to pass before speaking again. “See? No more. You’re safe to uncover your ears now.”

Slowly, he lowered his hands, eyes darting everywhere. “Where are they?”

“Where are who?” I asked softly.

“The Angels,” he whispered as if they could hear us. His chin wobbled like he was trying desperately to hold himself together.

I swallowed the emotion welling in my throat. “They’re far, far away. They can’t reach us here. That’s why you returned with us, isn’t it? For some rest?”

“Yes.” The word, so quiet and yet so shattered, slashed my heart.

“And where are you supposed to be while you’re resting?” I tested because I had no clue where I was and if I tried to return him to the healing wing I’d most likely get us lost.

He lifted a hand and pointed toward a door a dozen paces away. “Th–there. We’re all supposed to be there. I–I got…lost on my return from the privy.”

“Why don’t I accompany you so you don’t get lost again?” My tone was light and gentle, and I pressed my palms to the ground and rose to my feet.

The male shoved himself upright, still leaning into the wall. “Yes, please, Szélhámos.”

At least he knows who I am.

He lingered for a moment with his back against the stone, attention flicking from me to the door to the hall behind me.

“You remember who my mate is?” I questioned, gauging his every reaction.

“Aye,” he said, though his tone contained a hint of wariness.

“If anyone attacks us here, the Halálhívó will come for me immediately. He can protect you like he protects me,” I told him, hoping that would ease some of his anxiety.

The male nodded and dragged in a deep breath. Then, like it physically pained him, he took a step forward. Another followed. I waited a few beats before trailing him, ensuring I was in his periphery at all times. The last thing I wanted to do was to scare him again.

We approached the door he had indicated. My shoulders relaxed once he gripped the handle and opened it. Inside, a handful of others waited, all in wood chairs arranged in a neat circle. At one end was a male I didn’t recognize, his hair longer than was allowed in the army, wearing wool pants and a crisp tunic.