“Exactly!” I throw my hands up. “That’s what I’m saying!”
Fenric grins. “Honestly, though, I’d still take Valen’s method over Rian’s. He had me trying to guide a breeze around a target yesterday—no instructions, just that quiet look like,figure it out.”
Lyra lifts her glass. “It means he’s trying to kill you with subtlety. I swear the man hardly speaks. He just looks at you and you’re supposed to know what that means.”
We all laugh again—the kind of laughter that comes when you’re bone-tired and still choose to show up for each other. I glance around the table, warmth blooming in my chest that has nothing to do with the ale.
Fenric points his chin at me, mischief written all over his face. “Speaking of being trained exclusively by the Warlord himself,” he says, dragging out the title like it’s some kind of forbidden joke, “I saw you two the other day in the training hall.”
I freeze mid-bite, knowing where this is probably going.
Fenric grins wider. “Are yousuretraining is all that’s going on there?” He wiggles his eyebrows for effect, and Lyra nearlyspits out her drink laughing.
“Oh gods,” I groan, dropping my fork. “Seriously?”
Taila leans in, blue eyes sparkling. “Don’t look so scandalized, Amara. Fenric’s just asking what we’reallwondering.”
“I was holding a sword,” I say defensively. “Thane was correcting my stance.”
“Mmm,” Fenric says. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
Lyra fans herself dramatically. “Correct mystance, Warlord.”
Everyone bursts into laughter, and I bury my face in my hands.
Taila hums, unconvinced. “You looked pretty flustered for someone just practicing sword forms.”
“Because I kept messing up my footwork,” I say, exasperated. “Thane’s terrifying when he’s disappointed.”
Fenric gives a dramatic sigh. “So all business, then? No stolen glances? No lingering touches? No slow burn of forbidden tension?”
Darius snorts. “She just said he’s terrifying, Fenric.”
Fenric shrugs. “Terror and tension are basically cousins.”
Then he turns toward Darius and grins. “Darius, you can correct my stanceanytime,” and leans in to kiss his cheek.
Darius rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth. “Only if you stop leading with your face during drills.”
Lyra laughs. She grabs my hand across the table, squeezes, then raises her glass. “Toleading with your face.”
I grin, shaking my head. “There’snothinggoing on. He trains me. That’s it.”
But I know I’m not telling the whole truth.
Yes, I’m drawn to him—how could I not be? He’s gorgeous. But whatever’s there, if there’s evenanything, it’s buried beneath layers of discipline, duty, and distance.
He’s my trainer. That’s all.
Fenric takes a slow sip of his ale, eyes sparkling. I know thatlook.
“I saw his hand linger a bit longer than necessary,” he says casually. He shrugs, blonde locks falling into his eyes. “Observations of a humble bystander.”
My mouth opens in protest, but before I can get a word in, Darius wraps an arm around Fenric’s shoulder, playing along. “I did notice Thane looking at you in the mess hall the other day, Amara.”
I frown. “Thane doesn’t even eat in the mess hall.”
“Exactly,” Darius says, smirking. “Which is why it stood out. He wasthere. And he was definitely looking atyou.”
