Eli
Jace throws a staff at my head.
"Catch."
I do. Barely. My fingers close around the polished wood just before it smacks me in the nose.
"Great reflexes," he mutters sarcastically, already pacing back to the line of stacked weapons and picking one out for himself.
"Next time," I grit out, "I’ll let it hit me."
He grins over his shoulder. "No, you won’t. Ronan would lose his s**t and haul you out of here."
Ronan. Who's looming just outside the training ring, arms crossed and jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts on.
I haven’t seen him blink once. Every time someone so much as brushes past me, his eyes narrow like he’s deciding whether to kill them now or wait until nightfall. He’s not helping my concentration.
I twirl the staff in my hands, trying not to look like the comple
