Rayne watched from her perch on a silver bough as Nox emerged from their loft. He’d dressed for training, and that black tank looked so, so good stretched across his shoulders and chest.

Rayne had lied.

She was in way over her head. The smell of cloves—warm and spicy—had chased her out the door and all the way up this tree, like a frightened kitten. More like an excited kitten.

How long ago had she last felt this way?

Sagan.

Rayne winced. How would her lover—forever her lover and best friend—feel about Rayne flirting with Nox? Would Sagan think less of her?

No time to ponder it because Nox disappeared from the forest floor. Rayne focused on her senses, searching for a warning before he—

With a flip off the branch, she avoided his kick from above. Opening her wings, Rayne faced Nox in the canopy of metallic leaves. He never looked arrogant about his physical capabilities. Prowess had defined him ever since he’d asked for the strength to defend his mother and brother, and it was hard not to think about it, standing across from him in combat.

Rayne said, “We like to meet this way, I think.”

There was a slight pull to his lips before Nox said, “We find ourselves here often, facing one another as equals.”

Curious, she asked, “Do you have a favorite move I’ve pulled on you?”

It was unexpected enough to make him laugh, and Rayne cherished the sound. He considered her question for a moment while gripping his chin. After a few anticipatory heartbeats, Nox said, “A tie, I think. Between the take down at your school and…”

The take down was all Xelan, but Rayne would claim some credit for executing it. For the second one, she pressed, “And…?”

Nox’s eyes were pitch black and still they grew darker as he said, “When you broke my ribs by squeezing them between your thighs.”

Their heart rate spiked as Rayne stared at Nox. She was so gonna lose this game. Before she could form a comprehensive thought and respond, he came for her with a punch to the jaw.

Reflexively, Rayne blocked and kneed him in the gut—But Nox was already flying backward to evade.

The pure joy in his grin affected her. The ocean inside amassed a tidal wave, drawn to the volcano—Eager for the steam.

Rayne rocketed at him at her fastest, but Nox was more like her now and easily saw her coming.

They collided only for him to use her momentum and fling her into a nearby tree trunk.

Her back slammed into it. And wasn’t that a familiar sensation? Trees with smooth surfaces didn’t lose bark. Instead, she left a Rayne-shaped tree crater as she slid to the branch below.

Their heart rate was definitely up, and Rayne needed to catch her breath after the tree had knocked it out of her. Nox wasn’t giving her time. He landed on the branch with a run-up.

Rayne had seconds to stand and prepare herself for—

In a defiance of physics, Nox ran down the side and disappeared under the branch.

For a quick heartbeat, she commended him for these bizarre maneuvers. They were exactly the sort of stunts Celindria would pull—

Nox’s arms encircled Rayne from behind, locking her in his grip. He was hot against her back as he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “What was your favorite of my techniques?”

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Their kiss during the dance was all that came to mind, given the proximity.

Think.

Think of an answer and think of the next move.

Rayne regretted leaving so much skin exposed. Not because of any potential damage to it, but because Nox was against all of her—

It was so unfair that her tattoo no longer affected him.

Elden.

He could open a conduit, and then they could—

Fall.

They were falling.

Rayne needed a way to communicate with Elden on exactly where she wanted conduits to open for her. The deity’s sense of humor sent them falling through the tree branch down to the forest floor.

However, the maneuver had worked, because Nox released her out of sheer awkwardness when the bottom fell out.

Rayne let her wings catch her, but so had Nox, and he disappeared again. She muttered, “Clever motherfucker.” She closed her eyes and paid attention to her other senses.

Nox always smelled warm, like a bakery, but there wasn’t any wind in the forest. So scent wasn’t entirely helpful.

Fuck it.

Rayne shifted into Atramentous and opened the magnesium field. From her eyes, white light burned and surrounded her, spreading out and out—

“That’s cheating!”

Nox’s admonishment made Rayne grin.

Under this cover, she retrieved an old friend. Wrenching Night Killer—Rayne’s bladed staff—from her nacre always hurt like a son of a bitch. Yet the weight of it, the spin of it, and the reminder of its forger…

Night Killer was home.

Rayne lowered the magnesium field and let Nox come for her. To answer his earlier questions, she shouted into the forest, “In one of our dreams, we fought with batons.” She unlocked the connecting mechanism in Night Killer’s center and separated the staff into two weapons. “Your blows came at me so fast, I could barely keep you from pummeling me. Swift and twirling, flipping and spinning. Then you lit them on fire. Honestly, what could be cooler?” She flipped her own weapons, honoring the memory.

Nox’s laughter carried through the trees, making it difficult to tell where it was coming from—

Warm bread.

Rayne spun and blocked Nox’s attack with her weapons crossed. Daggers. He’d attacked her with matte black daggers.

Their eyes meet between the blades. He was grinning, a mirror of herself. Nox said, “Why, your majesty, I believe you are flushed with the thrill of combat.”

Rayne added a little cockiness to her smile as she assured, guaranteed, and vowed, “Because I know I’ll win.”

Elden, the Icarus’ chuckle was dangerously sexy—

Nox flipped backward, and Rayne pursued. He couldn’t block as well with those weapons as she could, but he evaded like a dancer. The twin components of Night Killer were longer than his daggers, but his arms reached farther than hers. It was quite the match.

While spinning one half of Night Killer and lunging with the other, Rayne tried to lock and sweep one of Nox’s ankles.

Light on his feet for a man his size, he twirled to the side, spun the other way, and jabbed a dagger at Rayne’s throat.

She duck and used the blunt ends of Night Killer to punch him in the stomach—

Nox shouted as he tumbled backward, losing his footing on a…

Rayne cried, “What the hell?!”

He grabbed one end of Night Killer, and they both fell through a conduit.

Would Tumu and One return? To modify more Icari as they had Elden?

Surra seemed concerned about the like. Every day, she trained their people to fend against the foreigners—Millions of Icari capable of so much death.

And yet, she must know how to make them like Elden. Able to speak and think. But nothing he said convinced her. Why? Was there a cost?

As on every turn of Li, Elden asked, “Surra, how can I make my people like me? To protect themselves?”

A sorrow greater than the sun’s loneliness filled those steel-gray eyes. This time was different. This time, Surra said, “Let me show you, amos. Pick ten most loyal to you, and we will make them like you.”

Elden knew exactly which ten, and he assembled them all at Surra’s throne. When she came to him, her limbs looked heavy with a weight she wouldn’t share. It broke his heart, for her burdens were his, but the Icari… They needed him.

“Please, Surra.”

Her voice trembled as she said, “I will grant you the only wish you have ever asked of me. Now close your eyes and know that I love your weeping heart.”

Elden did as she asked. As he stood before her with his eyes shut, he thought of their future. Thought of how Umbra, Vinco, Mirx—all of them—could serve the Icarean race. How badly he wanted the Icari to advance enough to meet the foreigners on even ground and ask them to stop hurting each other—

Elden screamed as something broke through his sternum, opening a sucking wound, filling and spilling precious blood. His eyes opened of their own accord to find a most fearsome sight. Surra plowed into his chest, wrist deep, as Elden fell to his knees. “Why…”

“Because you asked.” Tears spilled down her face even while she pilfered into his nacre and…

Chink.

A break. A tear. Or a hole—Partial. Not whole or complete—

Failure.

Elden felt it.

Surra shattered his nacre.

“Shh… Shh… You will survive this, amos. Go to sleep.”

The certainty in her voice—the love and kindness in it—assured Elden Surra would keep her promise.