“I’ll help you.” Larkin pushed his plate aside. “There’s a lot of doors and windows.”
“All right, so it looks like we split into teams. Hoyt and Glenna, magic time. Larkin and I will do what we can to block entrances. That leaves Cian and Moira on KP.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Hoyt and Glenna—she did as much as she’d ever trusted anyone. It wasn’t that she wasn’t open to magic. She had to be.
But even with the charm under her pillow, the candle lit, and the second charm hanging with the cross at her window, Blair slept fitfully that night.
And the night after.
The training helped, the sheer physical exertion of it, and the purpose. She pushed, and pushed hard. No one, including herself, ended any day without bruises and sore muscles. But no one, including herself, ended any day without being just a little stronger, just a little faster.
She watched Moira blossom—or thought of it that way. What Moira didn’t have in strength she made up for in speed and flexibility. And sheer determination.
There was no one who could compete with her when she had a bow in her hands.
Glenna polished the skills she already had—the canniness, the solid instincts. And she was coming along with a blade and an ax.
Hoyt brought an intensity to everything. Whether he fought with a blade, with a bow or with his own hands, he had an almost unwavering focus. She thought of him as the most reliable of soldiers.
And Cian as the most elegant, and vicious. He had the superior strength of his kind, and the animal’s cunning, but he added style to it all. He would kill, Blair thought, with violent grace.
She thought of Larkin as the utility player. In hand-to-hand, he was a scrapper, and simply didn’t give up. He lacked Hoyt’s intensity and Cian’s elegance with a sword, but he fought tirelessly until he downed his opponents, or they simply dropped from exhaustion. He had a good eye with the bow—not Moira’s, but who did?
And you never knew when he’d pull out one of his little tricks, so you’d end up battling with a man who had the head of a wolf, or the claws of a bear, the tail of dragon.
It was handy, and effective.
And damn sexy.
There were times he made her impatient. He was a bit too impulsive, and often showy. Errol Flynning it, she thought. And showoffs often ended up in the ground.
But when it came down to it, if she had to pick the people she’d want fighting beside her in the battle to save the world, she wouldn’t have chosen differently.
But even soldiers in the war to end wars needed to eat, to do laundry, and take out the trash.
Blair took the supply run because she wanted, desperately, to get out of the house. Two days of rain had limited outdoor activities, and made her edgy. If one person, just one, said that the rain is what made Ireland green, she’d split their head open with an ax.
Added to it, since the night of her close encounter with Lora, there’d been no sign of the enemy. The lull ruffled that edge and added twitchy.
Something was brewing. Bound to be brewing.
She had preferred to go alone, to have a couple of hours to herself, with her own thoughts, her own company. But she hadn’t been able to argue it was an unnecessary risk.
But she’d drawn the line at giving Larkin a driving lesson on their way into Ennis.
“I don’t know why I couldn’t do it,” he complained. “I’ve watched Glenna drive the thing. And she’s taught Hoyt.”
“Hoyt drives like an old blind man from Florida.”
“I don’t know what that means, except it’s an insult of some kind. I could do better than he does, with this, or the beauty Cian keeps in the stable.”
“Garage. You keep cars in a garage, and Cian’s made it clear he’ll bite and drain anyone who touches his Jag.”
“You could teach me on this one.” He reached over to trail his finger down the side of her neck. “I’d be a fine student.”
“Charm won’t work.” She flipped on the radio. “There, listen to the music and enjoy the ride.”
He cocked his head. “That sounds a bit like home.”