“Kael?” She said it again, softer. “Kael, what is it?”
He sat up so abruptly it was like watching a spring release. He turned his face away, scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and when he looked back the gold in his eyes was steady, shuttered, a door pulled firmly closed. The strange brightness had drained out of the air, and her heartbeat was only a heartbeat again.
“Nothing,” he said. “The light in this hall plays tricks.”
“Kael.”
“You did well.” He rose, and he did not take the hand she instinctively offered, and he brushed the dust from his shirt with a care that was a little too thorough. “That is enough for today. Rest. Eat something. I will have Dax continue the lessons.”
“Dax,” she repeated.
“Dax,” he said, and he was gone before she could stand, the great doors swinging behind hi
