arousal, until their bodies united and their souls combusted with shuddering heat of release.
He held her in the soft stillness of the aftermath pressing kisses to her forehead and tucking her gently under his protection.
Her soul glowed with steady fire. “Do you think a week is enough to develop our powers?”
“I do not know.”
“It feels like it’s not enough time, but on the other hand, every hour we delay leaves Hazel and your warriors in danger.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I have seen queens struggle for weeks. And I have seen those same queens come into their full power in an hour. It is not time that will decide your path to developing your powers. It is you.”
A small smile tugged at lips. “Like how you walk by the same dating agency every day, lamenting that you haven’t found love, and then one day you decide to go in and change your life.”
“Yes. This happens to me often on my walks.”
She vibrated a laugh at him. “All the walks you take underwater, I’m sure.”
“Every day. Twice during festival days.”
“Sure.” Her smile faded and she brushed her fingertips over his heart tattoos, green entwined with coffee brown. “Will you watch us train tomorrow? I feel like I’ve gotten a good start, and Meg knows her power. Bex is ready to storm Lusca. But the one person I can’t seem to reach is Angie.”
“I will come.”
“Thank you.”
He hugged her close. She fisted his mating gemstone, pressing it between them like a talisman of strength. He would be that strength for her as long as she needed it. And someday, she would be strong and fearless in herself. Her fractured soul would heal.
And then she would come into her full power and they would leave this island.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The warriors joined Ciran and the queens-in-training in the lagoon after breakfast, but quickly it became apparent that they couldn’t stay.
First, the young fry splashed and frolicked, moving the boulder, scraping themselves on sharp coral and crying for Meg, and squeezing squids. They reduced the women to vibrating shouts and breaking up disputes, and only Meg practiced her healing power.
Itime and the older trainees herded the younger fry out, especially once it became clear that no one was “sparking off fireworks underwater,” and Meg performed a crossed-her-heart-and-hoped-to-die pledge to call them back right away if anyone did.
Next, the lagoon was much calmer and emptier, and the boulder returned to its place, leaving the women to their practice. Ciran floated at a respectful distance, but Konomelu kicked right up to each of them and barked orders like he was evaluating trainees for the next test.
“Serious face. Why are you smiling? No talking there.” The soul lights of the women all diminished as he barked at them, and they flinched away. He reached Angie. “You must focus with all your might.”
Angie’s soul light flared. She jammed her hands on her hips. “What do you think I’m focusing with?”
He zoomed to her. “When a warrior attacks our sons, will you return with this comment? No. You must attack. Grrr. And parry. Graaah. Then your enemies will know to flee from your blade.”
Her soul light dipped. “I don’t have a blade.”
“Ah, of course.” He patted the dagger sheathed on his bicep. “I will supply you with a training knife now. You will take the dagger of the first enemy you defeat.”
Her soul light darkened even further. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and pushed away in a warding gesture. “I don’t want to carry a dagger. Ick. What if I had to use it?”
“Then you would be grateful to carry one.”
“No, no, no.” She shuddered and made more warding gestures. “Forget it. You do your warrior stuff. I’ll be sure dinner is hot on the table and your sons are neat as a pin.”
“Do you want to save Prince Ankena or cower on this island?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Yes? To which do you say yes?”
“Yes to both. I’ll stay here with Val. The rest of you can have fun breaking kneecaps and causing traumatic brain injuries.”
“Are you a warrior or are you afraid?” he roared.
She refused him with her whole body, darker now than Ciran had ever seen her.
This was not working.
Ciran vibrated a soft interruption. “She is not a warrior, Lieutenant Konomelu.”
The furious orange warrior stiffened. He seemed still unused to being addressed by his respectful title. Then he gestured harshly. “I know, and I am trying to make her into one because only a warrior can storm Lusca.”
“Actually,