A smile spread across his face, exposing his fangs. “Spoken like a true Andarion warrior.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a tender kiss across her palm. “I am, and will always be yours and yours alone, Sumi.” He pressed his cheek to hers before he stepped away.

Fear for him ripped her apart as she watched him prepare for their attack. But she knew she’d have to let that go. In the coming hours, she couldn’t allow any emotion to cloud her judgments or make her hesitate.

This was about battle, and Dancer needed an assassin at his back. Not an emotional woman distracting him.

They removed all color from their bodies except for the black and brown that would help hide them in the shadows.

Hauk frowned at her hair as he noted the pale color. That would definitely stand out. “I understand now why you wore the black wig.”

Sumi nodded at his statement. “Hard to hide pale blond hair in the darkness.”

He handed her his scarf to wrap around her hair to help conceal it. He’d already applied more dirt and a reddish clay to her skin for camouflage. Likewise, he wore some over the shiny areas of his face – across his forehead and along his cheekbones and chin. In true Andarion fashion, he’d applied it in a geometric pattern that was as beautiful as it was serviceable. And this time, she definitely saw the marks of his family in it.

Before he gave approval to her wardrobe, he shrugged his shirt off and put it on her.

She scowled at his actions. “What are you doing?”

“It’s blast resistant. Your poncho isn’t.”

“That’s great for me. Sucks for you, and I’m not walking in there with you unprotected.”

He grinned at her anger as he pulled a Sentella coat out of his pack. “I won’t be unprotected.”

When she arched a curious brow as to why he hadn’t given her the coat, he handed it to her. The instant he let go, the weight of it caused her to stumble forward. “Oh my God! What’s it made of? Rock?”

He laughed. “It’s what we wear into battle.”

Well, that certainly explained the size of his build. That thing had to weigh a hundred pounds.

At least.

Winking at her, he shrugged it on then secured his braids back from his face.

She lightly ran her hand over the black swirling pattern that swung up from his eye and across his cheek. “It’s the wings of a hawk, isn’t it?”

He inclined his head to her. “A sparn hauk. It was what my family was named for.”