Nox held out his hand. “Nox Owen.” “I know who you are,” she said, but shook his hand anyway. His grip was solid, his hand calloused and scarred. He’d seen his fair share of action. “Good. I’ve felt a bit invisible with that hulking lout showing off these past few days.” He jerked his chin toward Cain, who was in the middle of examining his bulging biceps. A large ring of black, iridescent stone glimmered on Cain’s finger—strange that he’d wear it to practice.
