Lyra's POV
Dimitri’s warm hands caught me just in time, steadying me before I could topple forward and flash the entire room. For a moment, our eyes locked, the air thick between us, until he cleared his throat and eased me back to my feet.
“Sorry,” I muttered, cheeks burning.
“No problem,” he replied in that deep, calming tone of his. “But you should watch your step.”
I gave a quick nod, still grateful for his quick reflexes. His gaze lingered on me, sharp and assessing, as though he were weighing something in his mind.
“Ever been in a fight?” he asked abruptly.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I know the basics, but I’ve never done real training.”
He considered this for a beat. “My father started teaching me when I was young,” he said, a faint trace of memory in his voice. “Knowing how
