Nascha's scowl was colder than any Connall had ever thrown at him, Fenrys couldn't help but notice. She was dressed in another new outfit provided by Lysandra. After they arranged to train with the Bane, Lysandra had swiftly found a pair of training leathers for Nascha. Fenrys had to admit they fit her very well. The pliable leather hugged every curve of her body, flaunting her strength as well as her beauty.

"Are we going to go or are you going to stare at me all day?" Nascha snapped.

"I was just admiring your new leathers."

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

Fenrys gripped her shoulder and teleported them away from the cabin. The distance to the Bane's camp wasn't exceedingly far from his home, but it was far enough that he'd have to split the trip into two teleportation jumps, otherwise he'd wear himself out. They landed in a thick wooded forest and lingered there while Fenrys caught his breath.

"Is teleporting hard?" Nascha asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Fenrys sat down, breathing deeply. "Yes and no. All I have to do is think about where I want to go and step through the folds of the world to get there." He tied his hair back into a loose ponytail. "But, I can't travel long distances and I can only teleport a few times before I'm drained."

"Is the distance to the Bane's camp too far?"

Fenrys shook his head. "It'll tire me out a little, but I can make it in another jump."

"How many times can you...jump, before you're drained?"

"I don't know. I've never pushed myself that hard."

"Oh." Nascha crossed her arms, eyeing the treetops.

"Con did once," Fenrys murmured. She glanced at him, her scowl slightly receding. "It was when we first began experimenting with this power. Our parents had instructed our mentors not to let us use it until we had control of our other magic. The first time we teleported was when we were sixteen."

Fenrys shook his head with a soft laugh. "Con decided that he was going to try to teleport to Mistward. I knew we could never make it. Not then. Connall didn't listen and I followed him in my wolf form. He made it halfway to Mistward in twelve jumps before he just...collapsed."

"I brought him home and he slept for three days. Neither of us had experienced a burnout before, and I thought he was going to die. He didn't, of course, but we were always very careful about how far and how many times we teleported after that. I've never gone past twelve jumps."

"Maybe you should try sometime. Three days of silence sounds like the Afterworld to me," Nascha chuckled.

Fenrys grimaced. "No, thank you." He stood and took her arm once more. Fenrys teleported and this time, they arrived just outside the Bane's camp. It was situated in a cool valley surrounded by mountains.

Shouts and clashing steel filled the air, almost reminiscent of a battle. Fenrys surveyed the camp, giving Nascha a chance to do the same. There were rows of identical wooden huts making up sleeping quarters for members of the Bane. Several different training rings had been built on cleared ground beyond them. Shacks stood nearby, containing weapons, dummies, and other training supplies. On the far side of the camp, several novices appeared to be practicing their magic, under the supervision of a few Fae.

"My swords?" Nascha held out an expectant hand.

Fenrys drew her duel bladed swords and handed them over. Nascha sheathed them at her hips before following him into the camp. It wasn't long before Aedion joined them. "I'm going to have you do physical training before magic," he said. "That way everyone has a chance to get used to you. The Human members of the Bane are still wary of Fae and Demi-Fae."

"Fine," Nascha grunted.

Aedion fell in step on her other side and led them through the camp. Several warriors paused to watch them. Some seemed curious. Others were blatantly distrustful. Many more studied Nascha's figure appreciatively. Fenrys narrowed his eyes, annoyance pricking at him. The barest flash of his elongated canines had those males and females averting their gazes. Fenrys caught himself a moment later and confusion stole over him. He shoved it aside as they drew near the training rings.

"Elgan," Aedion called. "You have someone new to bully."

"If you think that will draw my attention away from you, Whelp, you're sorely mistaken." A middle aged Human climbed over the fence rails of one ring and crossed his arms, inspecting them with cool blue eyes. "Fenrys."

"Elgan." Fenrys inclined his head.

"This your girlfriend or something?"

"No!" Nascha barked. "I swear, if one more person asks something like that, I'll..."

"You'll get in that ring and show me how an estranged Lady like yourself fights," Elgan interrupted, his voice low. Nascha stiffened at once. Even Aedion seemed surprised.

"You know who she is?" Fenrys asked.

"I do," Elgan replied. "I fought alongside Soren, Carpathia, and Vandran when Adarlan invaded Terrasen. You're the spitting image of your father."

"How is it you survived when they did not?" Nascha growled.

"I followed orders. They didn't." Nascha lips curled into a snarl. "They bought us time to retreat and regroup. You should be proud of them, not angry with me." Nascha's throat bobbed as she squared her shoulders. She swung herself over the railing, and Fenrys watched her with a faintly concerned frown. "How much training has she had?" Elgan asked.

"What she was taught before she and her brother were driven out of Terrasen, what little her brother might've taught her while on the run, and whatever she figured out on her own after he died," Fenrys replied.

"Hm." Elgan stroked his grizzled chin. "We may have our work cut out for us."

"Are you staying or do you have work to do?" Aedion asked, turning to Fenrys.

"I'm staying," he answered with a smirk. "She's pissed off. I want to see if that strengthens or weakens her."

Aedion nodded. "Oh, and Aelin wanted you to know that she's asked Vaughan to help out with training the new recruits."

"Did he accept?"

"He did. He'll be coming in the next few days."

Fenrys smiled. "Good."

◦ ~ ❘ ☼ ❘ ~ ◦

Nascha cracked her neck and shook her limbs out, waiting for an opponent to join her. Fenrys, Aedion, and Elgan were all talking outside the ring, not paying her any mind. What if I shifted right now and just flew away? She thought. How many of the Fae here could actually catch up to me?

    "Aeron!" Elgan hollered.

    A young Demi-Fae pushed through the group of warriors standing beyond the ring. He hopped over the railing and joined Nascha. He smiled, brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. His hair was blonde like Fenrys', but much shorter. There wasn't a single scar on his bronze skin, leading Nascha to wonder how long he'd been training and if he'd ever seen any real battles.

    "Hand to hand," Elgan ordered.

    Aeron unclipped his weapon belt and tossed it aside. Nascha followed suit, reluctant to part with her blades so soon after regaining them. She curled her hands into fists, falling into position. Already, she could feel Fenrys, Aedion, and Elgan judging her stance.

    Aeron circled her, his eyes revealing nothing of his intentions. He lunged without warning. Nascha side stepped, hooking her leg around his. He went down, but she caught him by the shoulder. Nascha drove her knee into his gut and tossed him aside. Aeron caught himself, coughing as he struggled to regain his breath.

    Nascha attacked this time. She threw a punch which he blocked. Her next hit connected with his ribs, but Aeron managed to land a punch of his own. They were soon trading rapid blows, catching most of them and being bruised by others.

    Nascha's braid came loose, but she ignored it. She wrapped a leg around Aeron's waist and swung herself onto his shoulders. With a sharp twist of her hips, Aeron was on the ground and she flipped onto her feet. Aeron jumped up, but she promptly swept his legs, knocking him down again.

    "That's not a good way to make friends," Fenrys called.

    "I'm not interested in making friends," she answered.

    "I yield," Aeron grunted, struggling to sit up. Nascha begrudgingly pulled him to his feet.

    Fenrys heaved a sigh. "So unfriendly."

    Nascha rounded on him, storming towards the fence. "Maybe I'm feeling unfriendly because I'm being forced to do this against my will, you and your friends treat me like a child, your brother murdered mine, and you left me scarred and limping!"

    "You have a limp?" Aeron asked behind her. "I never would have guessed."

    Nascha held Fenrys' gaze as she tugged off her boot and rolled her left pant leg up, revealing her scar. Aedion gave a low whistle. "No wonder you two don't get along."

    Fenrys stared at the scar in surprise. "I didn't realize it healed so poorly."

    "I was sixteen and on board a stinking cargo ship, infested with rats and grime," Nascha hissed. "I didn't know how to properly heal myself. I'm lucky it didn't become infected or I might've been forced to chop off my own leg. On really hot or cold days, it tends to act up and I'm left with a limp that I can't get rid of, no matter how hard I try."

    Something similar to guilt flashed through Fenrys' onyx eyes. His hand drifted to his stomach and the look was gone before she could determine what it had truly been. "I think it's pretty badass," Aeron said. "Let's go again. I have a few moves I think you'd really like."

    Nascha continued glaring at Fenrys for several long seconds. At last, she turned away and slid her boot on. She joined Aeron in the center of the ring, turning her back to the onlookers.

◦ ~ ❘ ☼ ❘ ~ ◦

    Fenrys watched as Nascha and Aeron resumed sparring. His gaze dipped to Nascha's left leg and guilt threatened to overtake him. He thrust the feeling aside, dredging up the memory of his and Connall's punishment. He reminded himself that it wasn't really his or Nascha's fault. It was Maeve's.

    If Maeve hadn't sent them after Nascha and Zeno, things wouldn't be like this. Fenrys and Connall wouldn't have been forced to spill each other's guts. Zeno wouldn't be dead. Nascha wouldn't have such a brutal scar and an occasional limp.

    It was Maeve's fault. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Still, he couldn't quite make himself believe the words, and he knew Nascha would never accept them. She would never accept his apology, even if he offered one, and he wasn't going to.