Malachi sat back. “What costs that much for one person?”

“I think Reed—through his manager—is paying to keep his mother somewhere. A private institution, perhaps. Remember what Ava thought when we first met her? She thought she was insane. If Jasper Reed’s mother was like Ava and living among humans, they might lock her up for hearing voices. That amount would fit with a private mental institution.”

“And he’d hide her so thoroughly because he thought she was mentally ill?” Malachi was skeptical. “Wipe her from the public records? Hide her behind his manager and a Swiss bank account? That seems excessive.”

“Unless she’s violent. Dangerous. Or in danger from someone else.”

It was possible.

“We need to search private mental institutions in Europe and the US.” He turned and saw Orsala standing at the door. “Search for any that cost that much on a monthly basis.”

“Already on it,” Rhys said. “See to your mate.”

MALACHI shook his head. “No.”

Ava’s eyes were pleading. “But I can’t practice defensive spells unless someone is attacking me.” She spread her legs shoulder width apart and squared her shoulders. “Go on. I’ve rehearsed this a million times, but I don’t know what I’ll do in the middle of the actual spell. Orsala is here to stop me in case anything goes wrong.”

Malachi crossed his arms over his chest. “While I’m duly terrified of your defensive abilities, canım, I’m more reluctant to attack you because you’re my mate and I don’t wish to hurt you. You may proceed without the attack from me.”

Ava’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Really? How old did you sound just then?”

Orsala said, “About four hundred years old. Ava, what did you expect? I told you it would be better to ask Rhys or Leo.”

Malachi glared. “Absolutely not.”

“Your friends would have no problem helping Ava practice.”

“They would if they wanted to avoid injuries from me.”

“Stubborn man!”

“I don’t need an old woman’s approval to protect my mate.”

Ava held up both hands and stepped between them. “We’re not doing this. I need to practice. This isn’t a battle of the sexes. Malachi, you’re my husband. Mate. Whatever. And I expect you to help me become stronger. I’ve tried unprovoked defensive spells, and they just don’t work. I’m not getting that gut reaction I need to make them effective. So if you aren’t willing or able to help me—”

“If there is no other option, then fine.” Her matter-of-fact attitude convinced him. She was correct. To not help her become stronger would be to fail in his duties as her mate. “And we’re getting married as soon as possible. If you prefer not to call me your mate, then I’ll at least be your husband.”

“Technically,” Orsala said as she moved back to the wall, “she’s not your mate either.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open, and Malachi said, “Yes, she is. Why in heaven would you say that?”

Orsala frowned. “Has she completed the mating ritual? I thought only you had performed it. Your magic doesn’t reflect a mated couple.”

Ava looked horrified. “I haven’t.” She turned to him. “What does that mean? What do I need to do?”

According to what he’d been told, Orsala was technically correct. Malachi had marked Ava before his death, but she’d never completed her side of the ritual, and he hadn’t tattooed the mark that would make her claim permanent.

Ava was upset. “But we’re dream-walking. And I… I feel you. I thought I was your mate. What we have—”

“Of course you’re my mate,” he said, soothing her. “We are reshon. Nothing can negate that. It’s fine, canım.”

“It’s not,” Orsala said. “He gave you his power, but you have not given him yours. Your mate will not heal fully until you do.”

“But what do I do?”

Malachi marched over to the old woman. “She will not be pressured into this. This is between Ava and me.”

“I’m not pressuring her. But you do her no favors. Mates carry each other’s burdens. Do you think she is not able to carry yours?”

“That has nothing to do with it.” And everything to do with Ava being as strong as possible. If she gave him her power, as so many Irina had before the Rending, then it was possible she would be weakened at a point when she might be vulnerable.

He turned to Ava. “We will complete the ritual in our own time. When things are safer for you.”

Ava stepped to him. “Is she right?”

He was unable to lie to her. “I’m strong enough without borrowing your power.”

Malachi saw Orsala shaking her head from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not about strength or weakness,” she said. “It’s about sharing a burden.”

The old woman strode over and, without warning, pushed Malachi over. Surprised by the old woman’s move, Malachi lost his footing, falling backward on the mat. His shoulders bounced off the practice mat, his hands slapped down. He was up as quickly as he’d fallen, his fists clenched and his shoulders squared.

“What was that?”

“A point,” Orsala said, circling the angry scribe. “I’m not stronger than you. Magically, perhaps, but I didn’t use magic.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Trust me. You’d know if did.”

Malachi felt the press of her influence in his mind, but he refused to look away from her testing eyes.

The corner of her mouth lifted in reluctant approval. “You have the will of an ox.”

“What is your point, old woman?”

“I’m not stronger than you, but you were not expecting an attack. You were unbalanced. Balance can be more important than strength, depending on the situation. If you and Ava are out of balance, then both of you are weaker. You are mates. Two halves of a whole. Learn from the foolishness of your fathers, Malachi of Sakarya, and do not make the same mistakes. Don’t underestimate your other half.”

Malachi looked at Ava. “I don’t want—”

“I’m offering.” Ava stepped forward. “I want this, Malachi. I’ve always wanted it. I didn’t like you giving me your power to begin with.”

“It was necessary.” According to Rhys, she wouldn’t have survived the battle in the cistern without his strength. Malachi had no regrets, even if it had cost him his life and his memories.

Ava turned away from him. “Teach me what to do.”

Malachi crossed his arms again. “Not at the expense of your defensive spellwork.”

“I can teach her both,” Orsala said. “Have no fear, Scribe. Your woman will be protected from all sides. And now can we depend on your help to finish this lesson?”

Malachi looked between Ava and Orsala, knowing that at some point he’d lost the upper hand. He just couldn’t figure out when. “Fine.”

“Cool!” Ava said.

She grinned and Malachi couldn’t be annoyed anymore. She looked too happy. He’d promised to attack her during her lesson, and she was thrilled.

“Gabriel’s bloody fist,” he muttered, bracing himself for the lesson ahead.

“I’M sorry!” She knelt over him, his hand clutched between hers. She might have said she was sorry, but she didn’t look it. She looked thrilled.

Malachi wiped the trickle of blood from his lip and grinned. “Very good, Ava.”

Without warning, he grabbed her by the shoulders and hooked his ankle around her knee, rolling them over so he was straddling her.

“Vashahuul,” she whispered, freezing him for a split second. In that moment, she lifted her knees up between his legs and pressed up, throwing him off-balance. “Vashaman!” she shouted, amplifying the spell. He froze again. It didn’t last long, but the split second he was paralyzed gave her an edge.

“Don’t forget ‘fasham,’ Ava!” Orsala shouted from the side of the room.

“Ya fasham,” she hissed, and Malachi felt the wave of dizziness hit him immediately. The ground tilted between his feet.