Page 127 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

He grins wickedly, his canines on display. I’ve learned over the past hour that High Fae have elongated canines capable of tearing out a throat. Riven has been glamouring himself. In fact, Vaeric said most of the people we’ve met have been. Their true forms would terrify us. By Elven decree, we have been kept comfortable until we were “ready” for the truth.

Assholes.

The word decree tastes like ash in my mouth. They treated us like porcelain dolls because they thought we couldn't handle the sight of their cruel edges. But looking at Vaeric's canines, I don’t feel afraid. I feel a dark, answering hunger. If that is the truth of my bloodline, then I’m done with the Elven illusion of safety. I want the teeth. I don’t need to be coddled. I might not have been born in this system, but I’m not a weak human either.

“Eager to bleed some more?” he asks.

He grins, shaking his head, his long braids clinking with metal beads. The piercing through his eyebrow catches the sunlight for only a moment before the sun disappears behind the clouds again.

I look down at my hands, where my knuckles are bloody, and shrug. “Staffs?”

Vaeric hums, looking around the clearing to each of our friends, then finds Riven speaking with another warrior as they watch Ciara. I’ve never taken the time to watch her during combat, but they have her training with short swords, one in each hand. She uses the springboards and vaults to her advantage. She flies through the air, the swords spinning around, only to be batted away as she comes down on another warrior with wings.

The warrior we met on the beach before we were sent through had wings, too. Hers had been large white wings dipped in gold. These wings are the color of damp sand, layered with darker, ash-toned hues.

Ciara grunts as they continue to go head-to-head. Beside me, Vaeric grabs the attention of Riven as he lifts two Bo Staffs. Riven nods once.

Vaeric tosses one to me. “Careful what you wish for, Prince. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I hiss as the healer pours a liquid over a deep gash in my arm while I hold a cloth to my nose, attempting to stem the blood flow. Vaeric hit me in the damn face and didn’t even apologize. Riven had only rolled his eyes and ushered me to the healer’s tent at the edge of the clearing. Tate is already here, along with Kellan.

Kellan has a large cut from where a sword sliced up his arm. He sits silently watching as the healer uses magic to stitch him up. Inch by inch, the skin pulls back together.

Vaeric smirks, pulling the tent flap open when my mate comes marching in, taking in the room. Her eyes go wide as saucers as she watches Kellan’s arm close. He winks at her, and then his gaze swings to me. The low growl wasn’t meant to be heard, but I don’t give a shit.

Raea approaches me, her body covered in bruises and debris as she watches the healer clean more of my cuts. Her anxiety radiates off her as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Who’d you piss off?” she grimaces.

I nod toward Vaeric, who grins, dipping his head. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I wrap my free hand around her waist, pulling her into the space between my thighs while the healer grumbles about sitting still.

Raea’s hands rest on my shoulders as she inspects me further.

“I’m fine,” I murmur for her ears alone.

Her shoulders fall as she takes the bloodied rag from my nose. She tosses it in the bin behind her. Guess the bleeding finally stopped.

With both hands free, I grip her waist, fighting the urge to pull her into my lap. I don’t miss the way she winces. Before I can ask, she says she fell on one of the pillars, clipping the edge before she rolled off. The healer finishes with the last cut, making it disappear completely before asking if she can see Raea’s stomach.

Raea hesitates, and before she can say yes, I tug her shirt up, cursing under my breath. Her entire side is mottled purple and black. The healer only tsks before laying a hand on her side.

She studies Raea, her gaze tracking the length of her body. “Your bleeding is about to start. You’re in pain.”

Raea’s eyes grow wide before her gaze falls to the floor. “My cycles are always painful.”

The healer nods. “I can make you a tonic. I’ll have it sent to your rooms. I’ll make sure to keep some ready for you each turn.” Then to both of us she says, “You’ll need to rest tonight. Take a dip in the pools after dinner and then go straight to bed. To sleep.”

Raea’s cheeks turn crimson as I stifle my huff of amusement. The bruise on her side fades, and with it, life returns to my mate. After the healer is done with her side, she tends to Raea’s fingers, glowering at Vaeric, though he’s not responsible for the obstacle course. Without another word, the healer leaves us to attend to Tate, who is still groaning on a cot in the corner over a broken pinky.

Vaeric leads us to where Riven is talking with Trysten and Aolyn. Both of them are covered in various bruises and debris.

“...again tomorrow,” Riven says.

The three of them look toward us as we approach. Trysten and Aolyn head to the tent, their turn to be healed.

“So,” Riven says, looking between us. “How was your first day?”

I huff, but grin. “Vaeric is a worthy opponent."