The pain of loss carved out her insides until breathing hurt.
The stone tucked close to her side heated, as if offering her comfort, and she was suddenly absurdly glad that a part of the gargoyle had survived. As long as she had the figurine, at least part of him would live.
Ryder let out a grumbling growl at her distress, glaring at Draven over the top of her head, and tugged her into the warm protection of his body.
“Sorry, big guy, but you can’t protect her from life.” Draven was clearly annoyed with Ryder. “If you have something to say, use your words.”
She squeezed both their hands, and they glanced at her with matching scowls on their faces. “Anything I should be worried about?”
Draven rolled his eyes so hard, it was a wonder he didn’t hurt himself. “Your boy there is wolf in all but form. It seems he’s forgotten how to speak.”
Morgan was appalled. “How long has he been like that?”
“Since you were taken.” His frosted blue eyes darkened with worry, then he flashed her a charming smile. “Don’t worry, though. Now that you’re back, his wolf will settle down like a good dog.”
Ryder swung his arm, his long reach easily passing over her. Draven ducked, but couldn’t escape the sharp smack to the back of his head.
“Ouch!” He rubbed the injury with his free hand, giving her a wounded look, searching for sympathy, and the tightness in her chest loosened at their antics.
They’re alive!
“He’s only managed to remain human by the skin of his teeth.” Draven tightened his hand on hers, whether to reassure her or himself, she wasn’t sure. His eyes flickered up, a scowl darkening his face. “They were watching him every second. The instant he changed, I have no doubt they would’ve put him down, or worse, caged him with the other specimens they’ve been collecting.”
She almost tripped over her own feet at what the elves had in store for Ryder. Rage sizzled along her nerve endings, triggering her magic, dragging it from deep in her bones with the need to kill every last one of those cold bastards. Her necklace did nothing to stop the barrage of seething, angry energy.
“Shite.” Draven jerked his hand back like she’d burned him, while Ryder grunted, then spun her around and pushed her up against the castle wall, edging closer until she was sandwiched between the cold wall and the hot, hard muscles of his body.
He ducked his head, and her breath caught in her throat, half expecting him to ravish her mouth. Her heart hiccupped, and the magic scattered like ashes to the wind, her rage turning into a passion of a different sort.
She tipped her head back in a silent demand for a kiss when Draven leaned against the stones next to them, his head propped on his hand, a coy smile on his face. “Don’t mind me. I enjoy watching.”
Her eyes widened, her spine tingling at his seductive tone, her imagination catching fire. Ryder growled, and goose bumps erupted all over. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop her reaction to them.
Draven’s smile faded, his frosted blue eyes shimmered, and his breathing sped up slightly. Then he pulled away, blinking repeatedly, as if waking, roughly raking shaking fingers through his hair. “Jesus.”
He looked as dazed as she felt.
Ryder nipped at her bottom lip, startling a yelp out of her, and she mourned the loss of him when he stepped away. When he held out a hand for her, she gladly took it, her world righting at his touch.
Draven gave a dry chuckle, then he reached out, snagging her free hand. Touching both of them had a soothing effect, and she suddenly felt foolish about her intense, bewildering, and completely unexpected fantasy.
She eyed Draven suspiciously, but knew it wasn’t his siren abilities affecting them.
No, it was her.
She was losing her immunity to their charms.
Not good.
Draven gave her an uncertain smile, sensing her unease, and she squeezed his fingers, allowing him to tug them both through the gates of the castle and into a bailey of sorts. She pushed away her emotions to worry about later. For now she needed to concentrate on their surroundings and the enemy slowly circling them like a school of sharks.
The conditions inside the castle weren’t much better than the exterior. Every student who could carry a weapon was practicing defending themselves.
Well, trying at least.
One kid took a nasty blow that sent him tumbling ass over teakettle.
“They’re…” She had no words to describe the chaos.
“Awful.” Draven was grim, any lingering awkwardness between them vanishing. “Each assassin was assigned a group of students to train. The only way we can protect them all is to teach them how to defend themselves.”
His eyes flicked upward, and she followed his lead, taking stock of the castle walls. Not only were there a number of elves patrolling the grounds, more than a few were standing on the outer wall as well.
And all of them were watching the activities in the bailey instead of the more dangerous surroundings outside the castle.
“They’ve kept us segregated from the rest of the castle, everyone under constant watch.”
Morgan raised a brow at him in amusement. “Then how did you get onto the roof?”
“Very carefully.” He gave her a rueful smile, but it quickly faded. “We wanted to send out a search party for you, but they refused. So Ascher and Kincade slipped out before they could be stopped.”
“With one of you no doubt creating a diversion?” She raised both eyebrows at him this time, and he shrugged nonchalantly.
“Maybe.” He guided her around a group of fighters, up a set of wide steps and led her through the large castle doors. The interior was more of the same, a number of witches giving the young students lessons on defensive and war magic. Harper was their taskmaster, her stringent voice carrying through the room more effectively than any drill sergeant.
The spark of magic lingered strong in the air, like tinder waiting for a match to be struck, but she didn’t think the danger came from the students.
“Where’s Atlas?”
“Somewhere around here, no doubt.” Draven shrugged, a bit disgruntled and completely unconcerned. “Come. There’s someone waiting for you.” He dragged her away from the training room. Ryder went along, distractedly rubbing his thumb back and forth over the inside of her wrist, sending a tingling heat up her arm.
When Draven stepped aside, Morgan’s heart lifted.
“MacGregor!” She pulled away from the guys and flung herself at the curmudgeonly hunter. The old man barely had time to open his arms when she hit his chest. She inhaled the scent of old leather and metal, her legs suddenly weak at learning he had survived.
“I knew you would make it, lass.” He cleared his throat and patted her back awkwardly.
Morgan reluctantly pulled away, feeling foolish for her emotions, only to halt when his arms tightened.
“We aren’t out of the fire yet,” he murmured. “Trust no one.”
“I know.” Morgan pulled away and smiled up at him. “What would you have me do?”
With a crafty smile, he said, “I have the students infiltrating the entire castle, each assigned to recon different areas. When a few more return with their reports, we should have a full layout.” He nodded toward Mistress McKay, who was surrounded by a group of students, blocking anyone from seeing her magically build a 3D laser version of the castle with a skill Morgan envied. “We should have a plan soon.”
Morgan raised her eyebrow at him, glad to have the crafty old coot in charge again. “How can I help?”
“There’s nothing for you to do yet.” He shook his head, putting his hands behind his back as he led her away from the rest. “Only a fraction of the students were sent to the Primordial World. The majority of them are now scattered throughout other covens.”
“You think we were chosen and sent here for a reason.” It wasn’t a question.