(Kayden POV)

  Kayden leaned against the stone boundary wall, arms folded, watching the rotation unfold.

  He had new responsibilities now. Part of that meant sitting in on preliminary field trials—movement, integration, pressure response—making sure the unit compositions made sense before they were finalized. Other team leads were scattered along the perimeter as well.

  The simulated forest corridor went loud without warning.

  Not an attack—an adjustment made too fast.

  Mana flared out of sequence. Bark splintered as a spell clipped the edge of a flagged route instead of flowing through it. Someone shouted something sharp and unfiltered—panic, not command. A knight skidded sideways through the undergrowth, boots tearing into soil as he compensated for a mage who’d stepped out of spacing.

  Boundary wards pulsed once in warning.

  Kayden tensed, weight shifting forward, already mapping trajectories. Quick scan.

  Instigators only. No one pinned. Instructors were moving in from the flank.

  He released the breath he’d been holding.

  Then he saw Lysara.

  She hadn’t stopped.

  She adjusted her path like someone stepping around a puddle—angled wide, ducked under a low branch, stepped clean over a scorch mark. She nudged a dropped practice blade aside with her boot without breaking stride and kept moving down the route.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Kayden stared.

  “—Is she serious,” he muttered.

  Another spell cracked behind her. Someone shouted about distance. A whistle cut sharp through the noise as instructors tried to regain control.

  Lysara checked once—quick—then continued on. Dummies triggered by impact. Marker lights signaling downed units. The subtle lag in a student’s movement that meant trouble was coming. This was what her role was built around.

  She paused only to straighten a route marker that had been knocked askew, frowned at it like it had personally offended her, and resumed her pace.

  Kayden watched her disappear down the path while half the group remained stalled behind the disturbance, unsure whether to advance or retreat.

  He pushed off the wall and jogged after her, shaking his head, a grin breaking through despite himself.

  “You know most people stop when that happens.”

  She glanced at him, already moving. “They were busy.”

  “That was a fight.”

  “Yes.”

  “You just—walked through it.”

  “No,” she said, precise as ever. “Around it.”

  Kayden huffed a laugh. “Right. My mistake.”

  He fell into step beside her without thinking. She didn’t look surprised.

  That, for some reason, caught him.

  “You didn’t even look impressed,” he said.

  “They missed,” she replied. “And the fern by marker four won’t recover.”

  He glanced back once, then forward again. “You noticed the fern.”

  “It doesn’t hide well.”

  “That’s… not what I meant.”

  She adjusted the strap at her shoulder. The edge of her sleeve was singed—just barely.

  Kayden reached out without thinking and caught it between his fingers.

  “Hold still.”

  She did.

  That was new.

  He brushed the ash away, careful not to touch skin. The contact lasted a second too long before he pulled back, suddenly aware of how close they were walking.

  “You’re alarmingly calm about all of this,” he said lightly.

  She considered it. “No one required treatment.”

  “That’s not the part that worried me.”

  She glanced at him again, longer this time.

  “You were watching,” she said.

  “Mm.”

  It wasn’t agreement. It also wasn’t dismissal.

  Kayden smiled despite himself. “One of these days, you’re going to walk past something that actually matters.”

  She didn’t slow. “Then I’ll stop.”

  He shook his head. “Good to know.”

  They kept walking.

  Not quite together.

  Not quite apart.