Tristan
The leather vest Rena had mended felt like a lead weight against my chest. I stood on the edge of the training grounds, watching her walk away. Every step she took seemed to pull a physical thread out of my heart, stretching it until I thought I would collapse from the tension.
"She’s a fast worker," Nora said, her voice cutting through the ringing in my ears. She was still standing too close, her hand lingering on my arm where she had just stripped the vest away. "Though I suppose when you have nothing else to do but scrub and sew, you learn to be efficient."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. If I opened my mouth, I was afraid a snarl would come out—or worse, her name.
"Tristan?" Nora’s voice sharpened. She stepped around to face me, her green eyes searching mine. The suspicion the
