Damn. I slipped them on and examined the effect. Beautiful but badass. I smiled, something that felt almost foreign these days. “Anything else?”

He motioned for me to turn in place. I obeyed, ignoring the low whistle as he took in the rear view. After I’d completed a full revolution, he pointed at my feet. “Off with the shoes.”

I did as he asked, handing over my heels and enjoying having my feet flat on the ground again. He held the shoes in front of his eyes, making a sour face. “You really going to wear these things?”

“It’s not an occasion for boots.”

His brows lowered, and he shooed me away. “Go play, and let me work.”

I took my bare feet over to the unoccupied side of the training room, where I practiced drawing my knives from my new thigh sheaths, thinking this was not really what I pictured when I got asked to prom. Still, if it was going to prepare me to protect Ian and Tegan and Greg and Levi and Jillian and, yes, Laney, then I was all—

“Michael, are you ready for us?” a voice called from the top of the stairs.

My heart did an uncomfortable little flip.

“You’re early, umdidi!” Michael roared, pausing in the middle of using a tiny mallet to hammer at a small metal spike on the forge.

I scrambled back against the wall as hard soles tromped down the stairs.

“Yes, but I thought maybe we could talk about what Lel—” Malachi froze at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing a tux. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and he held a tie in his hand. His black hair was disheveled, like he’d just changed. And his dark eyes were on me.

His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Lela,” he said in a strained voice. “I didn’t know you would be … here.”

“My car is in the driveway.”

He swallowed hard, nodded, and tried again. “I didn’t know you’d be …” He gave up and gestured at my dress.

A red-faced Michael plunged something into his barrel of water, sending a thick cloud of steam rolling across the space, curling my hair with the humidity. “Did ya think I’d make two trips?” he yelled at Malachi. “Tsa mor kaka!”

Malachi gave me a questioning glance. I shrugged. “Zulu.”

Jim trudged down the stairs, his tux jacket slung over one shoulder. “Hey, Captain. We came to get outfitted for the party.” He looked me up and down. “You look good. No idea where you’ll put your weapons, though.”

I slid my hand down my thigh and teasingly tugged up my skirt, just far enough to reveal the lower tips of my wickedly sharp blades. “I have my ways.”

Jim smiled appreciatively, but Malachi frowned. “It’s a start,” he said to me. “I was going to talk to Michael about your—”