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"Sunday afternoon."

I think about it. "Deal." I put the book beneath my chair. Nyra looks offended. I feel no remorse.

The doors open. A group of third-years enters. Someone behind us calls, "Where's Jonas?" I recognize the name. "No idea." His friend says. "Thought he was with you." The other answers. "No." Another student shrugs. "Probably still asleep." Laughter. Someone whistles. "Who with?" More laughter. I smile faintly. Jonas. Glass. The Place. Goodnight, Vaelith. Right. Him. I return to my coffee.

Combat training begins at eleven. The eastern grounds are already crowded when we arrive. Saturday training is technically shorter. Technically. The Council seems to have a very creative understanding of that word. Dragons line the upper edge of the field. Three today. Not Vyrael. Two younger Sky Wing dragons and an enormous gray female whose name I still cannot pronounce correctly. Professor Kaelis made me try yesterday. Twice. Then stared at me with such profound disappointment that I decided never to attempt it publicly again.

Rhyven is near the equipment tables. I feel him before I find him. There. That quiet awareness. Faint warmth beneath my ribs. Nothing dramatic. Nothing like Dominion. Just...Him. My eyes locate him automatically. He's speaking with Dax. Dax is holding a roster. Rhyven points toward something. Dax shakes his head. They argue quietly. Or...Dax argues. Rhyven stands there looking like he'd rather throw him from the nearest tower. Normal. Then Rhyven looks up. Directly at me. No searching. No scanning the field. Just...Me. Our eyes meet across nearly forty students. Something inside my chest shifts. Recognition. His expression doesn't change. He looks back at Dax. I do the same. Well. Not at Dax. That would be strange. I look at Nyra. She's already looking at me. Damn it. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing." I hate when she does that.

Training begins. And whatever softness existed last night disappears. The Chiefs are brutal. Not cruel. Never careless. Just unforgiving. Formations. Movement. Dragon protocol. Manifestation response. Again. Again. Again.

A wolf moves too slowly around a landing dragon. Dax makes the entire group restart. A fae misses Soren's hand signal. Restart. Cassian breaks formation. Maelis sends him back to the beginning. He looks personally betrayed.

"You were drinking with me twelve hours ago."

She folds her arms. "And?"

"You liked me."

"I tolerated you."

"You danced." Cassian raise his eyebrows.

"Restart." Cassian mutters something. "Louder." Maelis warns him.

"Nothing, Chief."

"Thought so."

I smile. Then Rhyven takes our formation. The smile disappears. Wonderful. He walks slowly along the line. His eyes move over every student. Posture. Equipment. Spacing. Everything. He reaches me. Stops. Looks down. I wait. His eyes narrow. "What?" I ask quietly.

"Boot."

I look down. "What about it?" I frown.

"Loose."

"It isn't."

He crouches. Before I can protest, he catches the fastening near my ankle. Pulls once. The leather shifts. Oh. It is loose. He tightens it. Stands. Walks away. That's it. No comment. No smug look. Nothing. I stare after him. Nyra leans slightly toward me. "Interesting." She whispers.

"Don't." I close my eyes.

"I didn't say anything." I can hear her trying not to laugh.

"You were going to."

"I absolutely was." She smiles.

We run the formation. Then again. Then again. By the fourth round, sweat runs down my spine despite the cold. Rhyven corrects everyone equally. Which I appreciate. Mostly. "Vaelith."

I stop. "What?"

"You're anticipating."

"I'm moving."