But he wasn’t alone.
Marcum stood with him, back half-turned toward me, posture easy but eyes sharp. Rowan slouched against the wall, but there was a stiffness in his jaw that told me this wasn’t just small talk.
I stayed just far enough away so I could still listen. Whatever this was—it wasn’t meant for my ears.
“What do you want, Marcum?” Rowan asked, his voice edged with barely concealed irritation.
“Now, now,” Marcum replied smoothly, “is that any way to speak to me?”
“Just tell me what this is about.”
A soft chuckle. “Maybe you aren’t the screw-up everyone thinks you are.” Then his tone sharpened like a knife. “There’s some business I need you to attend to.”
“Ask someone else,” Rowan clipped.
A pause. The tension snapped tight.
“Watch your tone,” Marcum warned. “I only allow so much, Rowan, before I get angry. You remember what I’m like when I’m angry.”
Rowan’s hands clenched at his sides. I could see the whites of his knuckles from where I stood.
“Yes, sir. I do.”
Marcum stepped closer. “Maybe,” he said, voice low and cutting, “if you behave, I’ll tell your mother and father what a good soldier you’ve been.”
I lingered long after they left, Marcum’s words echoing in my ears. By evening, the unease had settled into my bones.
Dinner came and went, and Rowan had all but disappeared. Anxiety twisted in my gut, an emotion I couldn’t dismiss as easily this time. I waited afterward, pacing the corridor outside the dining hall, restlessness coiling tighter within me.
I had overheard his tense conversation with Marcum, and I itched to know more.
I decided I needed answers. Quickening my pace, I headed toward the gym. It was time for our weekly sparring session. As I neared the doorway, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe he was already there, waiting for me with his typical stoicism. Instead, Renata stood alone at the center of the training mat, arms crossed, gaze sharp and measuring.
“Where’s Rowan?” I asked, hoping that maybe she would impart more information.
“He requested I take over today’s session.” Her response was crisp, devoid of warmth.
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?” I demanded, unable to disguise my irritation.
“He’s a commanding officer. He has responsibilities beyond babysitting you.”
I scowled but said nothing.
She gestured to the mat. “Well? Are you coming, or are you just here to whine?”
I stepped forward. “Let’s go.”
Renata didn’t hold back, and I didn’t ask her to. I welcomed the way my muscles burned, the way the sweat dripped down my back. It was better than overthinking.
Better than feeling.
“You and that woman from Summit’s Ridge know each other well.” I tossed out between jabs.
Renata arched her brow. “Her name is Naia, and you and I aren’t friends.”
“I was just curious. I saw you twokiss—”
“My personal affairs aren’t relevant to your training,” she interrupted sharply, throwing a punch I barely evaded. “So I’ll ask again, did you come here to train or not?”
