The whisper of his breath at her ear made her spine straighten. “Let’s see what you’ve retained.”
He placed the bow in her hand, but didn’t step back. His fingers lingered, gliding up the curve of her arm to adjust her grip. When she tensed, he chuckled under his breath.
“Relax. You’re already overcorrecting.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“You’re underestimating me.”
“Show me then.”
He slipped behind her, pressing just close enough for her to feel the outline of his chest against her back. His hand found her waist, steadying her as she notched the first arrow.
His palm lingered.
Squeezed.
She exhaled through her nose. “Are you going to correct my stance or grope my hip?”
He grinned at her tone, low and fond. “Hard to say. Your stanceiscrooked.”
She loosed the arrow in defiance—watched itthunksquarely into the target’s center.
He gave a low whistle. “Not bad.”
Auryn’s heart clenched. She reached for her braid again. “Thessia said the same thing once.”
The silence that followed was full. A moment shared between the living and the lost.
Kailorien’s hand dropped from her waist. “I miss her too,” he admitted. “She was…different.”
"Zarrek returned…what if…"
"Auryn, too many years have passed. Even if she survived at Stonewake, humans do not live as long as—"
"I know," she cut in, squeezing the violet ribbon. "I know. Just…don't say it. Let me hope, even if it is folly." Auryn waited until the stinging in her eyes passed. She let out a long exhale then smiled. “She’d laugh if she could see us now.”
“I think she’d cry. Then laugh. Then probably threaten to kill me again.”
Auryn's chest ached, but she pushed her grief aside and focused on the task ahead. They moved through drills for a while—form corrections, moving shots, timed rounds. Every now and then, his hand would slide along her back to adjust her posture or his voice would drop low as he murmured instructions into her ear. She tried not to think about the way her heartbeat spiked each time.
After an hour or so, she lowered the bow and shook out her arms.
“I want to try something,” she said, reaching for the mana bracer at her wrist. “I’ve been working on a spell. I’ve combined the backbone of containment webs with Weaving to create platforms that can hold weight for a brief moment of time.”
His brows lifted. “Like floating footholds?” he asked.
“Exactly. If I can master it, I could chain them across the air during a fight. It would change everything.”
“You want to spar?” he asked, voice thick with interest.
“I want to win.”
He grinned—openly this time. “Then let’s see your skill.”
They took their positions. Her hands moved fast, Weaving the first platform in a shimmer of gold and silver light. She darted forward, bow discarded, and summoned a second just ahead—leapt from the first…
