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Elain folded Lucien’s jacket and set it on the low wall that surrounded the River House’s sparring ring. She never had spent much time in this area of the mansion’s sprawling grounds. When the adults trained, the clash of swords and fists and weapons didn’t interest her, and watching the children get cuts and bruises made her deeply unhappy. It didn’t matter that they were all part-Illyrian or that they wanted to learn to fight. It was difficult to see Rhodes’ with a black eye or Nyx sporting a bandaged arm or Seryn limping.
But recently, she had started to make an exception. Actually, according to the way her chest tightened to near breathlessness at the idea of going inside, she couldn’t help but be right here.
During last night’s family dinner, Lucien had agreed to spar with Cassian before the children’s training session. Something about demonstrating different combat styles; Elain had been talking with Feyre about wedding ceremony colors and hadn’t been paying close attention. She had also forgotten to ask Lucien for more information since the moment they left the River House, he had winnowed them to Winter to do some midnight waltzing at a minor lord’s birthday ball. They had been more than fashionably late, but the gift they had brought, a golden clock from Dawn with miniature dancing polar bears, had been well-received.
And the rest of the night that they spent in a semi-see through crystal dome warmed by Lucien and their activities on top of a mountain in the middle of a snowstorm. Which, hmm, that was going to be a memory to return to and a location to keep in mind to revisit.
Heat coursed through her. This mating bond, awakened and accepted, was making her life excellent and wild and impossible all at the same time because she could barely manage to do anything except— she splayed her hand on Lucien’s jacket as its owner stretched nearby, reminding her of the one thing that held her focus these days. The one person.
His calves were perfectly defined, the cut of the thigh muscles visible as he bent, elegant, enticing, entirely hers. Thank whoever listened to the wishes of women and females for the creation of tight. Leather. Pants.
His shirt was half unbuttoned, just the way she liked, he knew that, he did that on purpose. He grinned at her, catching her staring, and she bit her lower lip, drawing it through her teeth. That grin turned roguish.
Control, control, control. She wasn’t the only one out here, and she couldn’t do anything about how much she loved him and his stupid open shirts and his stupid leather pants and that grin—
“Glass of ice water?” Feyre asked, holding out said glass, her eyebrows raised in amusement. Oh, and damn fae noses. “You’re a little flushed.”
Elain flashed a smile and took it, downing half of it. “It’s warm out here.”
“It’s spring,” Feyre said, “It’s not all that warm yet.” Her smile turned wry. “But I suppose the days get hotter quicker depending on the company you keep? Toasty, even?”
Elain offered a tiny smile and sipped at her water more delicately, arching an eyebrow. “Your innuendos are heavy-handed.”
“I blame Cassian,” Feyre said with a laugh.
Elain’s smile widened. “He is anything but subtle.”
Said unsubtle brother-in-law was currently going through sword motions, each swing powerful and certain. Elain narrowed her eyes. Cassian might be a general, but Lucien was a High Lord’s heir and faster and had the benefit of learning swordplay in multiple courts. The swords they would be using were sharp and real, unlike the blunt metal practice swords used by the group of children gathered near the wall of the practice ring like this was a spectator event.
“Da, I’ve got the burn salve in case you get absolutely scorched.”
“You can do it, Uncle Cass, he’s all smoke!”
“Nyx. That’s a complete lie.”
“Lucien, you’re wilier. And watch out for his overhead—”
“Are we taking bets? I can write them down.”
Nyx leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he argued with Seryn, Azriel and Gwyn’s daughter. Both of their wings flicked on occasion as they talked about the sparring match. On Seryn’s other side, Rhodes, Cassian and Nesta’s son, was holding up a coin to Roisin, whose large bat-like ears were tilted toward him. Fola leaned against the wall on the other side, interjecting occasionally into Nyx and Seryn’s argument. She and Roisin were on the same novice Valkyrie team as Seryn. They had spent the night with her last night, which meant they had also tagged along to the River House. For a moment, Elain’s gaze lingered on Seryn. Because of her visions, Elain now held a secret for Lucien and more truthfully Eris about Seryn and Gwyn. The visions she occasionally had when she was around Seryn about different children, a pair of twins with golden-red hair and Elain's brown eyes and Lucien’s grin, knowing all three children would be related, made more sense now.
Lucien sliced his blade through the air once and tossed a smirk at Cassian. “Are you done stalling?”
Cassian snorted and slashed the blade in a final move before lowering it. “Are you done showing off for Elain?”
“No, it pleases me to show off for her.” Lucien pulled his hair back into a ponytail, the leather strap between his teeth as he glanced back at her. He slipped the strap around his hair, tying it up. “As it pleases her even more.”
Elain finished the rest of the glass of water.
“Mother save us from the newly mated,” Cassian said.
“As if you weren’t worse,” Feyre said. “If someone even looked at Nesta for too long...”
“Alas, that poor male at the jewelry store.” Elain feigned a sigh. “At least it was an easy break for Madja to fix.”
Cassian colored red. “He was staring.”
“At the jewels,” Lucien countered. But he nodded his head when Cassian glared at him. “Of which Nesta is of the highest caliber, a ruby without a peer.”
“A blood ruby,” Feyre said.
Cassian grinned at that. “The best kind.” Tapping the blunt sword on his boot once, he looked at the children. “Pay attention, you lot. We’ll be breaking this down later.”
“Does it have to be a lesson?” Roisin complained, “Can’t we just enjoy watching you pummel each other?”
“Every fight you ever watch is a lesson,” Cassian said seriously. “Including sparring matches. So yes, we will be discussing it later, little novice.”
As he turned to Lucien, Roisin mouthed his words back to him exaggeratedly, bobbling her head behind his back. Elain tried not to smile. It became easier when Lucien and Cassian saluted each other, Cassian’s motions curt and intense while Lucien looped the sword around, teasing, taunting.
Then, almost faster than she could follow, they were fighting. The clanging of metal on metal made her tense up. Another reason she disliked the training ring was that it brought up old memories of the battle over ten years ago. The war. The camps and the mud and the blood and screaming. She sucked in a breath. She had worked to deal with those memories. Feyre’s hand slipped into hers and squeezed. Elain squeezed back and then released Feyre, determined to stand on her own now.
Fire flashed against red shields. Lucien darted forward, and Cassian moved back, taking a more defensive position, at least until fire raced around behind him. He laughed, brash and knowing, and both combatants kept moving. Elain couldn’t take her eyes off Lucien. The warrior in him held all of her attention. He was powerful, graceful, and her heart cheered only for him.
Cassian’s sword slipped past Lucien’s defense and sliced through the tie holding his hair. It cascaded down his back, but he used Cassian’s tiny victory to press forward, batting the flat of his sword against Cassian’s armored shoulder in a strike.
“Nonfatal blow!” declared Nyx.
“They’re all going to be nonfatal,” Fola said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, not exactly wanting to watch my da or my future uncle die here, Nyx,” Rhodes said dryly.
Elain’s heart sped up though she reminded herself the children were all training to fight. These were normal jests for those who learned battle. Right? Of course. But as she watched Cassian and Lucien, she clenched her fists, fingernails biting into her flesh. If Cassian hurt him…
As if her thought of forbidding it in her mind had brought it into reality, blood bloomed on Lucien’s left forearm. He kept going as if nothing had happened, but a ringing began in Elain’s ears. Lucien was hurt. Lucien was bleeding. His arm was injured.
And it was Cassian’s fault.
How dare he, how dare he hurt Lucien. She was Lucien’s, Lucien was her’s, no one could hurt him, he was bleeding, and Cassian—he was still attacking.
From the rack of weapons beside her, she grabbed one of the solid wooden staffs. Elain’s skirts danced around her as she jumped over the wall of the training ring, bringing the fight to an instant halt. Behind her, Feyre said something, but the ringing, it was so loud.
“Elain, what are you doing?” Lucien started, reaching for her, but she surged past him. He was bleeding, and someone was about to pay for that.
Cassian’s smile was unsure. “Elain? What’s wrong? Are—”
Whatever he was about to say or explain was lost on her and this haze of uncharacteristic rage. He couldn’t have finished it anyways since she used his expectation of her passivity and forgetfulness of how protective she could be to drive the butt of the staff into his sternum with all her fae strength. It was enough to knock the wind out of him for a second.
“You asshole,” she said, stabbing the staff at his foot, forcing him to jump back. Cassian’s eyes were huge and startled. “He’s bleeding!” And his nice shirt, she was fond of that shirt. “You did that!”
“Elain, hold on,” Cassian said and then took another step back, ducking away as she tried to hit his shoulder.
“You hold on, you cad. I’m just going to bruise you, stay still,” she said, hardly knowing herself in that moment.
“Let’s talk about this. Elain. Elain? Lucien!”
She whiffed the staff through the air again. The only reason she had gotten the original hit in was the element of surprise. But there were her powers. She reached for the foresight within her, the knowledge of where he was going to be in the next instant, knowing that she could strike before he got there—
A hand caught the staff, but it wasn’t Cassian. Lucien’s eyebrows were halfway up his forehead as he searched her face, a tod regarding an angry vixen. “Can I have the staff? Before you give your brother-in-law a black eye?”
“When I’m done delivering the black eye, maybe,” she said, trying to shake it loose.
“Elain.”
“He deserves it!” She felt wild and out of control and part of her reveled in it while the other part stared, not recognizing herself. But all of her claimed Lucien, so both parts agreed that what was happening was perfectly acceptable, if odd.
“Is this part of the lesson, too, Cassian?” Roisin asked behind them. Feyre hushed her.
Lucien touched her arm with his other hand, not letting go of the staff. Finally, breathing hard, she released it. He dropped the staff on the ground and tucked a loose strand of her hair back behind her red hot ear. He leaned forward, lips brushing against that same ear. “You are a wonder. And slightly amazingly terrifying in this moment. We need to explore that,” he said, kissing her ear lobe.
Elain grabbed onto him, hooking her left arm around his back, right hand possessively tightening on his shoulder. Her fingers wove into his shirt and latched on as she pressed her lips to his chest. Lucien kissed her forehead and hugged her. Elain glowered at Cassian over Lucien's shoulder, vicious, borderline hateful in a way she might eventually regret.
Cassian rubbed his chest where she had hit him and offered an apologetic and somehow proud smile. “That hurt,” he said with a laugh.
“Good,” she hissed at him. “I don’t care.” Maybe later she would.
Lucien’s chest shook with a silent laugh. “You’re not a fawn or a doe. At least not right now,” he said, running his hand down her back. “You, Elain, are a wildcat.”
Those two warring parts of her, the raging one and the concerned one, melded together and relaxed against him. She leaned back to offer her Lucien a smile just for him. “I think so, too.” She pressed her face to his chest, the anger beginning to fade. “Now, let’s go somewhere to do that exploring you mentioned.”
It was his turn to smile. “I know just the place.”
And without any explanation to the others, they were gone, winnowing away to somewhere only Lucien knew, where they could explore her wild side until they were satisfied and content.