Chapter 24
SEAN
“You hit like a pillow!” Anna yelled at David from the edge of their training clearing.
He ignored her, then failed to evade Cathaire’s jab to the stomach.
Beside her, Sean cupped his hands around his mouth. “Are you dodging or just repositioning yourself to get hit later?”
That earned him a silent look.
Anna sucked a breath through her teeth. “Oh, he didn’t like that one.” Louder, she added, “I think he’s just accepting his fate in slow motion.”
David took a visible breath, then managed to land a quick one-two on Cathaire’s chin.
Anna gasped. “You hit something on purpose! I’m so proud of you.”
Sean threw out a mocking cheer.
David cracked his neck and didn’t respond.
“He’s salty with me,” Anna said to Sean, the teasing shine gone from her voice.
“I noticed.” For nearly two weeks, training had been obnoxiously tense as Anna and David sniped at one another. At first, Sean hadn’t cared much, but as the days passed, he’d grown curious. “What happened?”
She huffed. “He’s mad that I like his mother.”
David’s head snapped to the side with a blow to his jaw, hard enough that Sean winced. His own face ached just imagining it. “I get the feeling there’s more to it than that.”
“Yeah. He’s a stubborn bloody sylph,” Anna muttered. She groaned as David fell to the ground. “He could have blocked that.”
“I still don’t get it. I can’t decide if he’s hiding his skill so people will underestimate him or if he’s using this as some kind of penance.”
Anna shrugged, her gaze traveling over the spectating crowd at the other side of the clearing, eager for bloodshed. “Maybe he’s aware of what they’ll do to him if they believe he’s actually competent.”
Sean’s mind slowed to a stop.
Why had he never considered that? These people hated David. If they believed him a real threat, Sean could only imagine how they’d respond.
But David wasn’t a villain, despite what they thought. Based on Lhynion’s memories, Sean wondered whether even Galadaine had been a villain. Nothing in those memories painted Galadaine in a bad light.
None of it made sense.
Perhaps roping David into rebuilding the Exorcism with him could improve his image. David was smart. Resourceful. He’d only be an asset.
Strangely, the idea of doing it all with David at his side relieved a bit of the constant pressure in his chest. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?
Wait.
When did this happen? Did he consider David Berkeley an ally? That couldn’t be right.
The guy was a jackass.
Heat prickled along his skin, and Sean became starkly aware of Anna’s attention on his face. He slid a glance her way, rolling his eyes at her satisfied smile.
“Blink twice if you’ve realized you were wrong about him.”
A friendly shove did nothing to dissuade her taunting.
She laughed. “Are we at the I told you so stage yet, or do you want more time?”
“I don’t need commentary on all my poor life choices.”
She gasped. “But that’s the best kind of commentary!”
“I thought you were mad at him.”
“I am. He’s an ass, but he’s not a bad guy. Glad you finally recognized it.” A playful elbow landed in his ribs. Sean returned the gesture, and suddenly they were sparring.
After more than a month of training with her, Sean had learned her style.
He had her immobilized, her back against his chest in just a few moves.
He could have held her there, but he loosened his grip to allow her a chance to fight back.
Not to be outdone, she yanked on his wrist, ducking under his hold, then kicked him hard in the stomach.
His diaphragm spasmed, the air stilled in his lungs, and he doubled over.
“Don’t get cocky,” she said, all smug. “Being the Savior doesn’t mean I won’t destroy you.”
Sean was laughing before his air had fully returned, causing him to cough.
The woman was vicious, but he couldn’t quell the sense of kinship between them.
Anna and Cathaire had quickly become some of his favorite people.
He’d been searching his whole life for people who understood him like this, who loved the same things he did.
He’d hoped to find this feeling with Isobel, but perhaps his lover wasn’t supposed to be his friend.
Perhaps the two titles were meant to remain separate.
At the edge of the field, Isobel sat with a notebook in hand. She rarely trained anymore. The first decade had been enough for her, apparently—she’d reached the rank expected of her and planned to rise no higher—but she smiled and waved when their eyes met, and his stomach lurched with want.
He missed the days when his brain wasn’t hijacked by Isobel Faywood.
I imagined I might hate you when you finally showed up, she’d said last night, still breathing hard as she’d lain naked at his side.
It’s okay if you hate me, he’d answered. I’d hate me, too, if I believed what you believe.
Sean wished he could have known her without the magic that bound them. Would he still want her this way?
Fated lovers. Destined mates.
It should have been…good.
Instead, it felt like subjugation. Like a cage. Like a lack of choice.
Anna touched his shoulder before those thoughts drowned him. You okay? she Signed. “You got serious all of a sudden.”
He nodded and patted her hand, the friendly pixie spark translating concern and affection through the contact.
David appeared beside them to fill a cup with water, gold brow raised. “You’ve resorted to heckling now?”
Cathaire chuckled as he stripped his bracers off.
Sean grinned. “It’s the simple pleasures.”
“Yes, it gives me great joy to annoy you,” Anna said, the words pointed.
David spared her hardly a glance. “Then you should at least come up with something clever.” He set his cup down. “You know, so you don’t embarrass yourself.”
“You’re the embarrassment,” she said. “You can’t even throw a punch.”
His mouth curved into a subtle smile. “And you can’t throw an insult.”
She scowled. “You’re wasting everyone’s time. If you don’t want to be here, then leave.”
David glanced around, scandalized. “And miss all this? What would you do without me?”
Anna looked as if she wanted to pour the jug of water over his head. “I’d be fine. You’re useless to me.”
His head cocked, and while his empty expression gave nothing away, Sean sensed a lurking thread of annoyance.
“Yeah,” David said. “I’m aware.”
Sean and Cathaire exchanged a loaded stare. What the fuck was happening between them?
A musical voice interrupted the argument. “My Cathaire!”
They turned at Leyla’s approach. Blue flowers spiraled through her braided hair, and a white dress flowed around her bare feet.
“Ah, Leyla!” Anna launched herself into Leyla’s arms. “Where have you been?”
“You are the busy one, not I,” Leyla replied with a laugh.
Anna released the pixie and smiled as Leyla brushed fingers over her bare neck. “I see you still wear no necklace. What have I told you, Anna? Pixie women of an age wear a crystal. You are long past your twentieth year. Tribe eternal!”
At Leyla’s neck hung a star-bright crystal fashioned in the shape of a dagger. Within, a pale light glowed. Sean gazed at the light, transfixed. He’d never noticed it before, never seen a gem like it.
Anna pressed a hand to her naked throat. “I’m not full pixie though—”
Leyla and Cathaire both cut her off by Signing, Stop.
“If you won’t see to it, I’ll do it myself,” Leyla said.
Anna’s cheeks reddened, and Cathaire chuckled, his gaze soft on Leyla, who drew slowly closer to him.
“Have you finished?” she asked.
“Yes.” Cathaire eyed the three of them. “This trio can finish their arguments without me.”
Leyla laughed. “Arguments, hmm? What did I miss?”
“Anna won’t stop flirting with me,” David said without looking at any of them. “We’re all embarrassed for her.”
Sky-blue eyes latched onto him, attempting to pierce deep, but he leaned casually against the water table, blank faced, awaiting her comeback.
Sean turned away from the carnage. None of it was his business. Instead, he watched Leyla pause more than an arm’s length from Cathaire and stare into his eyes.
No greeting kiss. No hug. Not even a handshake.
Regardless, the connection between them was palpable.
The Pixie Effect, as Sean had learned, was a peculiar phenomenon. Apparently a single touch from a lover could set off a chain reaction of pleasure—not something to be experienced in public.
Sean’s gaze fell to his hands, snagging on the scar on his index finger where a chain-link fence slashed the skin open when he was eight. Scraped knuckles. Roadmaps of veins. He couldn’t imagine the simple brush of this hand waking that kind of sensation in someone.
Besides, Isobel wasn’t a pixie, so it didn’t matter.
There was a term, Sean had learned—and not a nice one—that pixies applied to non-pixies who seduced someone out of the network.
Keila.
Isobel was a keila.
No one would ever say such a derogatory thing to her face though.
It had taken a fair amount of cajoling to convince Cathaire to explain it, as these non-tribal relationships weren’t just discouraged but shunned. Pixies stayed with pixies, and falling in love outside the network denoted a deep disrespect toward the revered Pixie Effect.
Given what everyone believed of Isobel Faywood and her destiny to die for their Savior, Sean’s relationship with her wasn’t merely accepted. It was expected.
She might have been a keila, but she was still loved.
Sean glanced her way once more, but she was still hunched over her notebook, pen to paper. He’d never understood journaling himself, but Isobel was faithful to her diary.
“Ah,” Cathaire said, drawing Sean’s attention. “It appears someone wishes to speak with you. I was wondering when he would find you.”
Sean turned to find the warrior chieftain, Bowenn, striding his way. His leather armor was polished to a rich reddish brown, and thick bracers covered both his arms and legs. Tribal knots inked patterns over his shoulders and ringed his biceps.
“How goes it, Ashanta?” the chieftain asked, holding a hand out.
Sean grasped his wrist, the pixie spark communicating goodwill and amity. “Well enough.”