“What?” Colin and I erupt at the same time.
“You’ll go in late for dinner, and you’ll come back out when you’re done. You’ll work twice as hard. Because if you have the extra energy to get into trouble, then obviously you’ve got more energy to give me.” Eogan crosses his arms. “And when we’re done each day? I’ll know exactly where you are and who you’re with. Am I making myself clear?”
“What about Adora’s parties?” Colin asks.
“Oh, you’ll attend those. And you’ll stay the entire way through.”
“Are you jesting?” I blurt out. “Have you been to those parties? They’re horrid! One week of haunting them every other night, and I’m ready to burn my eyes out.”
“Pardon me, but those are the people you’re trying to save! And most of them are involved in every detail of every plan of this war. So if either of you had half a brain in your skulls, you’d be haunting every member and using your ears to listen! Why else do you think I require you to be there? For entertainment?”
“I thought it was Adora’s idea . . .” Colin’s mouth closes as we both stare at Eogan.
It’s his fault we attend those things. I shake my head.
“I requested Adora to require it. Because if you two actually paid attention instead of moping around like bolcrane babies, you’d pick up more information in one night than the highest generals of Faelen are privy to.”
My whole body goes still. Like that traitor in the back hall on the first night.
“Honestly,” Eogan mutters, “I doubt it matters which side wins the war, seeing as it’s all hulls in the end anyway. But if you want to help Faelen, you’ll need more than just your Uathúil abilities. You’ll need to know who holds what positions on the council, how decisions are made, and whom you can trust. And more important, whom you cannot trust. Right now you have access without anyone noticing you, so for kracken’s sake take advantage of it.” Our trainer pauses and looks up at the sun, which is halfway to noon already. “Now, can we get on with today’s knife-throwing lesson?”
I lift my brow. “Knife throwing?”
“As I said, you need skills, not just abilities. But first, why don’t you both give me three laps?”
Colin raises his hand to salute Eogan, but before he struts off, our trainer stops him with a hand to the chest. “By the way, need I even ask where you got the fat lip?”
Colin’s freckled skin floods pink from the top of his shaved head all the way to his bare stomach. He keeps his gaze clear of me while mumbling something about earning it in last night’s fight, then takes off to the meadow outskirts. I start to follow just as Eogan turns and catches my sheepish expression. I scramble to wipe it clean, but not soon enough.
That unfair, annoying smile of his glimmers to the surface.
My own skin flushes, and cursing it, I clamp my mouth shut and take off after Colin before the butterflies in my stomach start getting edgy.
The routine Eogan inflicts on us for the rest of the afternoon is a cycle of twenty-minute workouts encompassing physical strength training, bow shooting, ability control—which his calming knack is proving helpful for—and knife throwing. To his credit, it appears he fashioned our blades himself. Never mind that mine are smaller than Colin’s and we have to give them back when we finish. But by the time the dinner bell rings, my good hand is aching and my muscles and emotions are screaming from the strain of controlling my attitude and its effect on the weather. Especially since, upon returning home early, Adora gave explicit instructions that her last-minute party needed clear skies tonight. And nothing on Eogan’s face hints he’s about to release us.
“He’s hopin’ to starve me to death, I swear,” Colin grumbles, sending an enormous dirt clod hurling toward a rock.
“What was that, Colin? You regret last night’s decision to leave the estate?” Eogan yells across the field.
I take the rock out with a single lightning bolt before losing control and dumping a flood of water on the three of us.
“Oops,” I say in response to their glares.
Eogan sighs and asks me to clear the skies.
I’m almost finished after a half hour of him telling me to steady my breathing and center the storm inside of me in order to calm the one above. I want to tell him that it’s harder than it looks when you’ve got an infuriating man touching your skin who ignites your senses in their own little messed-up storm.