Piaras was slowly picking himself up as we walked over to the ring.

“That was my fault, darlin’,” I told Piaras. “Sorry about that.”

“It was his eyes’ fault for wandering,” the trainer said.

Piaras finished hauling himself to his feet with no help. Made sense. Your enemy sure as hell wasn’t going to help you up on a battlefield or in a back alley.

His trainer spoke without turning to look at him. “Distractions are deadly, Cadet Rivalin.”

Vegard grinned. “It’s not always good to let a beautiful woman catch your eye.”

“Lesson’s over, Piaras,” the trainer told him. “I don’t think the lady’s here just to see you sprawled on your back.”

Piaras took off his head gear, exposing dark, curly hair; though now it was dark, damp, curly hair. The kid had a pair of big brown eyes that could have gotten him any coed on the island. He was taller than me and still growing. Piaras had potential written all over him, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure we were both alive to see how he turned out.

Piaras took out his mouthpiece, blew some apparently much needed air in and out of his lungs, then tried some words. “Thank you, sir,” he said to his trainer. He looked at me. “You didn’t come just to see me embarrass myself, did you?”

“No, but I’m not opposed to unexpected entertainment.”

Vegard tossed Piaras a towel that was draped over the ring ropes. “Get yourself cleaned up, little brother, and make it quick.”

Piaras looked questioningly from me to Vegard and back again.

“We need to talk,” I told him.

Piaras headed off toward the locker room, and two expressionless Guardians followed him. One remained by the door; the other went in with Piaras. I recognized them both. They’d been Piaras’s shadows since a few days before Sarad Nukpana escaped the Saghred.

Until then, it’d been an accepted fact that the Saghred couldn’t be opened or destroyed. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last that accepted fact turned out to be absolute fiction. A couple of millennia ago, the demons were some of the first to get their collective claws on the Saghred. Realizing there were tasty souls trapped inside, the king of demons ordered that a way be found to open it. The demons not only found a way to open the rock; they forged the means to do it—the Scythe of Nen, a dagger no longer than my hand. The Saghred didn’t like being opened and having its souls slurped out like oysters. The rock slurped back, and the demon king was now a prisoner with the souls he’d been trying to eat.

Two weeks ago, the demon queen came looking for the Saghred and the Scythe of Nen to free her husband. To force me to find the Scythe of Nen first, and free him from the Saghred, Sarad Nukpana invaded Piaras’s dreams, essentially possessing him. That possession plus Nukpana’s sword skills had nearly resulted in Piaras committing a cold-blooded murder. There were men on Mid who were just waiting for the chance to lock Piaras up, and they’d almost gotten their wish.

The two Guardian bodyguards were Mychael’s idea of a preventative measure to keep Sarad Nukpana from getting back into Piaras’s head. Mychael had assured me that Nukpana wouldn’t go after Piaras immediately, if at all, but I felt better that he obviously wasn’t taking any chances.

My expression must have said that I didn’t think two Guardians were enough, regardless of how big and magically talented they were.

“Piaras won’t be leaving the citadel until Sarad Nukpana’s been terminated,” Vegard said. “Every Guardian in the citadel is watching him.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I told him. “When it comes to revenge, Sarad Nukpana likes the personal touch. But if he can’t get to Piaras himself, he’s perfectly capable of getting someone else to do it for him.” I hesitated. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but Mychael’s already had one Guardian turn traitor. In my experience, traitors are like rats; if you find one, there’s more in a dark corner somewhere.”

Piaras came out a few minutes later wearing his dove gray Guardian cadet uniform, his dark curls now damp from a quick shower. Vegard’s and Piaras’s heavily armed shadows gave us some privacy and we found a quiet corner near a rack of wicked-looking bladed pikes.

“What’s wrong?” Piaras asked point-blank, his large brown eyes solemn.

Like me, Piaras knew that when someone said, “We need to talk,” chances were it wasn’t going to be something you wanted to hear. Until recently, I would have tried to protect him by telling him only as much as he needed to know, no more. Now ignorance was deadly.

I told him everything, leathery corpses and all.

“Are you having any more dreams about Sarad Nukpana?” I asked, once I’d finished.

Piaras knew what I meant. Dreams that Nukpana may have planted in his head, along with any impulses—like murder.

“No. I’ve had a couple of nightmares, but I had those all by myself, no help needed.”

“Your guards know about them?”

Piaras snorted derisively. “Them and every cadet in the barracks.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “But they assure me that I’m screaming like a man, not a girl.”

I cringed inwardly. “That’s always good.” I leaned forward, then stopped myself. It was all I could do not to hug him.

“Hug received,” Piaras whispered.

He’d always blushed before whenever I’d hugged or obviously wanted to hug him. This time he didn’t. That just made me want to hug him more.

“But thanks for not actually doing it in the middle of the gym,” he added quietly.

I had a lump in my throat. “Hey, any one of these men would jump at the chance to have me hug them.”

“Any one of these men doesn’t scream in the middle of the night and wake up half the citadel. Spellsinger pipes are loud.”

“Vegard says you’re restricted to the citadel for the duration.” I didn’t need to say for the duration of what; Piaras knew. When Sarad Nukpana was dead for good, Piaras could set foot outside the citadel’s walls.

Piaras scowled. “All my classes are here right now. Paladin Eiliesor has asked my two other professors to come to the citadel, so I’m getting private tutoring.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“Would you be? Locked up here like a . . .” He fumbled for the word that expressed every bit of the frustration and anger he was obviously feeling. “Like a child. And worst of all, every cadet in the barracks knows why—the paladin doesn’t think I can defend myself.”

I could see what had happened as if I’d been there. “I take it the other cadets have been giving you a hard time.”

Piaras’s silence answered my question better than any words.

“I just want to do something,” Piaras blurted. “And that the paladin doesn’t think I’m good enough to—”

“Stop right there. Mychael doesn’t doubt your ability and neither do I. And if any cadets say that you being in the citadel makes you incompetent or a coward, that’s not teasing; that’s jealousy, pure and simple. What you did in that cave under the elven embassy saved every last one of us. That’s public knowledge now. And I don’t know how much more public you could have been when you summoned three rampaging bukas out of thin air to take down those embassy guards who were trying to kill you. And just three weeks ago, you fought at the archmagus’s side and killed I don’t know how many demons.” I stopped, thought, and surmised the source of the problem.

“Those other cadets wouldn’t happen to be highborn elves, would they?”

Piaras hesitated before replying. “Yes.”

That was it, then, or at least a big part of it. Piaras’s parents were merchants in Laerin, and they’d done well for themselves. No blue blood, just good, solid business sense and a lot of hard work. No doubt Piaras’s background would be looked down on by the young, snobby, rich aristocrats. Piaras had worked for everything he had; those elf cadets just had to be born. I didn’t have to tell Piaras any of this; he’d experienced it firsthand over the years.