The morning after the note, Ariana woke with her pulse already unsteady. Sleep had offered no escape—her dreams had been filled with silver eyes and clashing voices. Kael’s growl claiming her, Lucien’s whisper tempting her.
By the time Kael entered her chamber, her hands were still trembling beneath the blankets. He stood at the foot of her bed, dressed in his dark training leathers, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Get up,” he ordered.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“You’re coming with me.” His tone left no room for refusal. “To the training grounds.”
Her stomach lurched. The training grounds were Kael’s kingdom of violence, a place where the air smelled of sweat, iron, and earth. A place where warriors bled to prove their worth. She had never stepped onto the packed dirt where his men
