Leo sounded as excited as a child at his Naming Day celebration.

“Mala!” Ava ran over, laughing as she embraced the dark-eyed warrior. “Please don’t kill my mate. We just got home. We weren’t expecting you.”

The corner of the woman’s full lips turned up. She embraced Ava with one arm, then pulled back, using her hands to sign.

“Slowly,” Ava said. “I’m out of practice.”

Mala signed again. Ava nodded, still grinning. “I’ll tell him. She says you have a strong tackle, but you should work on your balance. Strength is no substitute for grace.”

Malachi glowered.

“Hey.” Ava held up her hands. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

His eyes shifted to Mala, who only looked amused. It was a welcome expression on an otherwise fearsome face. The Irina had been beautiful once. Was still beautiful. But her jawline was marred by horrible scars that looked like an animal had attempted to rip out her throat. That was why she did not speak. The Grigori had taken her voice.

Malachi held out his hand. “Well met, sister. You are a fierce opponent.”

Mala bowed slightly, then turned to Leo. Ava translated when she started signing.

“I think… she says you rely too much on your size. A smaller opponent is often more… flexible?” Ava paused, watching Mala. “Nimble?” Mala nodded and continued. “She says you should practice dancing.” Ava frowned. “Really? Dancing?”

Mala nodded vigorously.

“I can do that,” Leo said with a grin. “But I’d need an Irina partner.”

Mala picked up her staff and walked out of the room.

Leo said, “I guess that means she doesn’t volunteer.”

“I’ll dance with you, Leo.”

“Are you any good?”

“Not really. But at least you won’t make me pass out, which is an improvement over most partners you’re going to find around here.”

“True.”

Malachi sheathed the knife and tried to calm a heart that still raced. “Leo, do you still want to spar?” he asked. “I’ve been on a plane all morning and I’d love to stretch my legs.”

“Of course.” The big man picked up the second staff that was lying on the mat of the training room. “Ava, Orsala arrived with Mala.”

Ava groaned and covered her eyes. “No.”

Malachi went to her and kissed her temple. “She’s probably with Rhys in the library, devising more magical torture for you. The longer you delay, the worse it will be.”

“Save me,” she said.

“I will battle Grigori for you, canım,” he said gallantly. “I’ll abandon heaven and cross continents.”

“My hero!”

“But I will not interfere with that old singer’s plans. Do you think I want to die again?”

She slapped his backside and walked toward the door. “Leo, kick his ass for me. He’s getting way too cocky.”

Malachi only laughed. “I love you, Ava.”

Leo said, “I love you too, Ava. Good luck with Orsala.”

“Both of you—useless!”

“MALACHI?”

He looked up from his drawing pad. “Orsala?”

The old woman smiled tentatively when she walked into the room. She wore the silver hair and lined face of an Irina who had stopped her longevity spells. Malachi had heard her mate had been killed years ago, so allowing herself to age and pass away was not unexpected.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“Not at all.” He pushed the sketches to the side. He had several talesm he’d been planning to scribe once they were back in Istanbul, and he needed to practice the characters. But sketching could wait. Malachi had a feeling she wanted to talk about his mate. “Is Ava—”

“She’s fine. Resting, I think. She went to your room with a headache. I believe she was becoming frustrated.”

He rose to go to her, but Orsala put a hand on his shoulder. “If I could have a moment…”

Malachi paused. “What is it?”

“She is very resistant.”

“To using her magic?”

“Yes.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath. “She’s afraid of what she can do.”

She smiled, and warm creases formed around her silver-blue eyes. “I do not want to interfere. Or ask you to break her confidence. I want to help her.”

“Let me talk to her again.”

“Thank you.”

“I warn you, though.” He gathered his papers and turned to leave. “I will not pressure her to use her magic if she’s not ready. My loyalty is to her, not any cause.”

“As it should be,” Orsala said. “You remind me much of my own mate. He was highly protective, even when I was at my strongest.”

“It is when we are strongest that we often don’t protect ourselves,” he said. “Whatever her destiny is in this life, it is my job to defend her.”

“For the Irina, I think the time has come for offense, not defense.”

He shook his head. “I’m not talking about the Irina. I’m talking about Ava. I will not let her be dragged into a war of your making, Orsala. However much I may support your cause, her part in it will be of her choosing.”

“She has not chosen this,” the old woman countered, “but Jaron has. The Fallen has targeted her.”