I jumped guiltily, not realizing I’d dozed off a little. Maxen stood in front of me, shirtless and in long gym shorts, glistening with the dewy condensation from the mineral sauna. The smell of mountain streams and wet sandstone hung around him.
I looked him up and down, but I wasn’t checking him out. “What’s wrong?” I asked, looking for evidence of a recent injury.
New Gargs didn’t use up their precious mineral sessions for no reason. And it wasn’t just the limited allotment given to each of us. It was even more a matter of pride. We were fighters, and we were tough as granite. We normally didn’t use such treatment unless there was true need.
“Nothing,” he said. He plucked his shirt from the hook next to the door and flashed me a smile. He pulled the t-shirt down over his head. “Good as new.”
I arched a brow at him. “Care to prove it after I’m done in there?” I tipped my head at the mineral sauna’s door.
He licked his lips. “Absolutely. See you in the yard.”
He walked backward a couple of steps and then flipped me a little wave.
“Hey, Maxen?” I called, suddenly remembering I had a plus-one for the trip to the Duergar court. He stopped and came partway back. “My roommate, Lochlyn, wants to come with us today. She, uh, really likes court.”
It was a pretty lame reason, but I couldn’t lie outright about why she wanted to come and I wasn’t supposed to tell Maxen that the changeling was actually my sister and Lochlyn wanted to be there for moral support.
He narrowed his eyes for a minute, and I couldn’t help thinking of Lochlyn’s command to flirt with him. Make him think you want to clank rocks. I nearly snorted a laugh but managed to control it and turn it into a broad smile. I tilted my head, channeling Penelope, my sex kitten alter-ego.
Maxen shrugged a shoulder. “Why not?” He turned to go but then paused. “Only if you beat me in the yard.”
I let out a laugh that echoed down the hallway. Since we were kids in training, I’d defeated him nine times out of ten, at least.
I pushed open the door of the mineral sauna. The small space wasn’t much bigger than a closet, with just a wooden bench by way of décor. The walls were made of slabs of shimmering opalescent stone from deep in the earth of the Old World. It was said the stone combined all the minerals and precious stones that existed on both sides of the hedge. Fae called it Brigitstone after Brigit, the Celtic Saint of healing and blacksmithing.
I took off my scabbard and set it against the wall, settled on the bench, inhaled deeply, and let my body drink in the magical nourishment.
When I emerged, my skin slicked from the mist of magic and minerals, I felt like a god reborn. I wasn’t fully healed yet, but the moments after time in the mineral sauna were always filled with a surge of energy and vitality. It was like a triple espresso after the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had.
I put on my scabbard and rolled my neck as I made my way to the gym, letting the mist of the mineral room dry on my skin. Poor Maxen. I was going to kick his ass all over the training yard.
When I got outside, I squinted and shaded my eyes against the bright sunshine, automatically looking toward the flash of metal and clangs of swords. Maxen was sparring with Shane again, who was the current general weapons teacher for the youngest class of New Gargoyles. Maxen’s eyes flicked to me, but he somehow kept his focus on the fight at the same time. He slashed at Shane with a complicated sequence of strokes, but the teacher was faster—Shane fought back and slipped his blade under Maxen’s elbow, where it slid off the rock armor protecting Maxen’s ribs.
Shane spoke a few words to Maxen, the two men shook hands, and the teacher departed.
“Sure you want to do this?” I called to Maxen. With a languorous stretch of my arm, I reached for Mort. “Maybe you need to rest first?”
“Nope,” he said, working his blade in a figure-eight warm-up pattern. “Let’s go, Maguire.”
We faced off, and when our eyes met, I flashed a grin. But I waited, wanting Maxen to make the first move. He feinted a lunge and slashed upward. I sidestepped and parried. It all happened in barely a blink.
“Not even going to use your armor?” Maxen asked as we circled each other.
“Nah,” I said. “So far I see no need for it.”
He laughed good-naturedly. I attacked with an overhand swing, and Maxen barely blocked it. I came in for a jab at his midsection and hit his armor. He was stronger than me, but I was faster, and my sword was a bit lighter and shorter than his. Size wasn’t everything.
I tsked. “You still keep your elbow too high. How many times did Jaquard give you that correction when you were a kid?”
“About a million.”
We traded blows, our swords clanking in a rhythm that almost sounded deliberate, for several minutes. I got completely absorbed in the enjoyment of the dance.
Maxen came in for a complex attack, trying to use his size and strength to overpower me, and managing to drive me back several steps.
I was running out of room. I dropped to one knee in an attempt to make him think he’d gained the upper hand. When he telegraphed a too-large overhead slash downward, I spun on my knees, darted under his arm, and sprang up three feet away from where I’d been. The end of Maxen’s heavy sword jammed into the grass, and I flicked Mort out and tapped the side of his neck.
“Mine!” I shouted. It was our tradition—whoever won got to crow about it. Jaquard always told us it was a crass and immature habit. That was half the reason Maxen and I had kept doing it.
I lowered Mort and backed away.
“Again?” I asked.
We were both breathing hard. Sweat beaded on Maxen’s forehead and darkened his hairline.
“I’d like to, but it’s time to get ready for court,” he said, sheathing his sword. He glanced off to the side of the training field. I followed his gaze to where a blue-vested page was waiting with his hands folded and a tablet tucked under his arm.
I groaned and let my head drop back.
He arched a brow at me. “You’re the one who wanted to go.”
“I know. I just don’t want to go through the ridiculousness of all the pomp. It’s just so . . . archaic.” I wrinkled my nose.
“You should to have more respect for Fae traditions,” he said in a lecturing tone.
“You sound like your mother,” I shot back.
Side by side, we headed inside.
“Why did you need the mineral sauna?” I asked.
“I just want to be at full strength for the trip,” Maxen said absently. “After your shower, there will be a page waiting to take you to your dressing room. They’ll have something frilly and lovely waiting for you, I’m sure.”
I shot him a sour look over my shoulder as I pushed the door to the women’s locker room. But his comment about being at full strength snagged in my mind. Things with the Duergar were contentious. I wondered if Maxen truly feared that the situation could turn violent.
After showering and dressing, I stood in front of the mirror and tried to finger-comb my hair into some semblance of neatness but soon gave up. A stylist would most likely be in my dressing room to work out the knots and make sure I looked proper and presentable.