She stormed out just as Larkin jogged up the steps. “Cian’s getting up. He says we’ve wasted enough time and we’ll be training an extra hour tonight.”

“You can tell him to kiss my ass.”

Larkin blinked, then craned his head around the curve of the stairs to watch her stride down. “Sure it’s a fine one,” he said, but very quietly.

He peeked into the tower room, saw Hoyt sitting on the floor, bleeding.

“Mother of Christ, did she do that?”

Hoyt scowled at him and decided his punishment for the night wasn’t quite done. “No. For God’s sake, do I look like I could be beaten by a woman?”

“She strikes me as formidable.” Though he would have preferred keeping clear of magic areas, he could hardly leave the man sprawled there. So Larkin walked over to Hoyt, crouched. “Well, that’s a mess, isn’t it? You’re coming up a pair of black eyes.”

“Bollocks. Give me a hand up, will you?”

Agreeably, Larkin helped him up, gave him a shoulder to lean on. “I don’t know what the bleeding hell’s going on, but Glenna’s steaming, and Moira’s locked in her room. Cian looks like the wrath of all the gods, but he’s out of bed and saying we’re training. King’s opened some whiskey and I’m thinking about joining him.”

Hoyt touched fingers gingerly to his cheekbone, hissed as the pain radiated to his face. “Not shattered, there’s some fine luck. She might’ve done a bit more to help instead of pounding a lecture on my head.”

“Words are a woman’s sharpest weapon. From the looks of you, you could use some of that whiskey.”

“I could.” Hoyt braced a hand on the table, prayed he’d regain his balance in a moment. “Do what you can, would you, Larkin, to get the lot of them together in the training area. I’ll be along.”

“Taking my life in my hands, I’m thinking. But all right. I’ll try sweetness and charm with the ladies. They’ll either fall for it, or kick me in the balls.”

They didn’t kick him, but they didn’t come happily. Moira sat cross-legged on a table, eyes, swollen from weeping, downcast. Glenna stood in a corner, sulking into a glass of wine. King stood in his own corner, rattling ice in a short glass of whiskey.

Cian sat, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. His face was white as bone, and the burns the loose white shirt didn’t cover, livid.

“Music might be nice,” Larkin said into the silence. “The sort you hear at funeral pyres and the like.”

“We’ll work on form and agility.” Cian cast his glance around the room. “I haven’t seen a great deal of that in any of you so far.”

“Is there a point to you being insulting?” Moira asked wearily. “A point to any of this? Slapping swords and trading punches? You were burned worse than anyone I’ve ever seen, and here you are, an hour after, up again. If magic such as that can’t take you down, keep you down, what will?”

“I take it you’d be happier if I’d gone to ash. I’m happy to disappoint you.”

“That’s not what she meant.” Glenna shoved irritably at her hair.

“And you interpret for her now?”

“I don’t need anyone to speak for me,” Moira snapped right back. “And I don’t need to be told what to do every bleeding hour of every bleeding day. I know what kills them, I’ve read the books.”

“Oh, well then, you’ve read the books.” Cian gestured toward the doors. “Then be my guest. Go right on out and take out a few vamps.”

“It’d be better than tumbling about on the floor in here, like a circus,” she shot back.

“I’m with Moira on this.” Larkin rested a hand on the hilt of his knife. “We should hunt them down, take the offense. We haven’t so much as posted a guard or sent out a scout.”

“This isn’t that kind of war, boy.”

Larkin’s eyes glittered. “I’m not a boy, and from what I can see it’s no kind of war.”

“You don’t know what you’re up against,” Glenna put in.

“Don’t I? I fought them, killed three with my own hands.”

“Weak ones, young ones. She didn’t waste her best on you.” Cian rose. He moved stiffly and with obvious effort. “Added to that, you had help and were lucky. But if you came across one with some seasoning, with some skill, you’d be meat.”

“I can hold my own.”

“Hold it with me. Come at me.”

“You’re hurt. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair is for women. If you take me down, I’ll go out with you.” Cian gestured toward the door. “We’ll hunt tonight.”

Interest brightened Larkin’s eyes. “Your word on it?”

“My word. Take me down.”

“All right then.”

Larkin came in fast, then spun out of reach. He jabbed, feinted, spun again. Cian merely reached out, gripped Larkin around the throat and lifted him off his feet. “You don’t want to dance with a vampire,” he said and tossed Larkin halfway across the room.

“Bastard.” Moira scrambled up, raced to her cousin’s side. “You’ve half strangled him.”

“The half ’s what counts.”

“Was that really necessary?” Glenna got to her feet, moved to Larkin to lay her hands on his throat.

“Kid asked for it,” King commented, and had her whipping her head around.

“You’re nothing but a bully. The pair of you.”

“I’m all right, I’m all right.” Larkin coughed, cleared his throat. “It was a good move,” he said to Cian. “I never saw it coming.”

“Until you can, and do, you don’t hunt.” He eased back, lowered carefully into the chair. “Time to work.”

“I’d ask you to wait.” Hoyt came into the room.

Cian didn’t bother to look at him. “We’ve waited long enough.”

“A bit more. I have things to say. First to you. I was careless, but so were you. I should have barred the door, but you shouldn’t have opened it.”

“This is my house now. It hasn’t been yours for centuries.”

“That may be. But courtesy and caution should approach a closed door, particularly when magic is being done. Cian.” He waited until his brother’s eyes shifted to him. “I would not have had you hurt. That’s for you to believe or not. But I would not have had you hurt.”