I scrub a hand down my face. “Gods.”
He leans back slightly, voice low. “You’re not the only one who’s lost something, Thane.”
I glance at him. That tone in his voice—the one he only uses when the past is pressing at his back—it’s rare. Heavy.
“She’s not trying to break your walls,” he continues. “She’s just . . . existing. And somehow, that’s enough to get through.”
I say nothing. Because he’s right. Ihatethat he’s right.
How did this even happen? It’s only been a few weeks. And yes—I see her every day. I train her. Fight beside her. Observe her training with Valen. Watch her break and keep getting back up. I’m there. Because Ihaveto be.
But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about duty.
I realize I notice things now. Small things.
The way she chews on her lip when she’s thinking. The way she tilts her head when she disagrees but won’t say it. The way her brow furrows when she’s trying to solve something she hasn’t quite figured out.
And I hate that I notice. Because once you start, it’s hard to stop.
I’m not . . .in it.Not yet. But I can feel it creeping in. Likefog. Slow. Inevitable. In the way her presence lingers after she’s gone. In the way I find myself looking for her before I even realize I’m doing it.
I didn’t plan for this. She’s supposed to be my responsibility. A weapon I’m meant to sharpen. A piece I place on the board.
So how the fuck did this happen?
She’s under my skin. In my thoughts. Beneath every shield I’ve spent years building.
I know her laugh. Her stubborn silences. The way she rolls her eyes when she’s pretending not to care, and the way her voice breaks when she’s trying not to show shedoes.
And gods—when she looks at me like she sees somethinggood?
It undoes me.
I can’t want this. Ican’t.I have to protect her. Prepare her.
Notfallfor her.
Rian claps my shoulder and then walks off without waiting for a response. And I sit there, staring at the barracks. The door still hasn’t moved. The flicker of candlelight still glows behind it. And gods help me . . .
Iamlooking.
AMARA
After training, I limp back to the barracks. Shower off the dust and sweat. Try not to think, not tofeel.
I head to the dining hall. Sit down alongside my friends with a full tray and an even fuller brain—Valen’s lessons on Elemental flow and ancient lore still swimming behind my eyes. But before I can even finish my meal, Thane appears beside me.
“Come with me,” he says—low and sharp. It almost sounds like a growl.
Ah. Back to moody Warlord, I see.
I don’t argue. But gods, Iwantto. My muscles ache. My brain is mush. Valen’s training. Combat drills. And now—evening strategy sessions?
I’m afraid to ask what fresh hell tomorrow will bring.
True to his word, Thane starts hammering through teachings on history, warfare, politics, and philosophy. Layer after layer, he builds it into me. Not just what to fight—butwhy. Not just what power is—butwhat it costs.
It’s grueling. Exhausting. But—after a couple of weeks—something changes. The lessons start to wander. We drift off course, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. We start talking about other things. Silly things. Real things. Things that have nothing to do with war or tactics or duty.
