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Caelen doesn't look remotely guilty. "I know."

"Aren't you done?"

"No." He hops down from the stone wall with the easy confidence of someone who has spent years landing on his feet. As he gets closer, his grin fades. His eyes move over me. Not dramatically. Methodically.

The scrape across my forearm. The dirt staining my training clothes. The bruise beginning to darken along my jaw. He reaches out, gently tilting my chin toward the light. "Corvell?"

I sigh. "Yes."

"He did this?"

"He trained us."

"Same thing."

Despite myself, I laugh. "You two are impossible."

"We've been told."

He lets go of my chin. "Does it hurt?"

"My pride?"

"The bruise."

I touch it carefully. "A little."

"You'll survive." He shrugs.

"I was hoping for more sympathy."

"I laughed first."

"I noticed."

"Now I'm checking on you."

"I suppose that's an improvement."

He nods. "It is."

We begin walking toward the Academy together. The training fields behind us slowly empty as the different Wings finish their evening drills. For the first few minutes, neither of us says much. We don't need to. We've always been good at sharing quiet.

"So?" Caelen asks eventually.

"So?" I repeat.

"Sky Wing."

"It's..." I search for the right word. "Demanding."

He snorts. "I could've told you that."

"You didn't." Another few steps. "He's harder than I expected."

Caelen laughs. "No."

"He is."