Soren proved himself more than simply a diplomat during the days following his arrival. He appeared at the training yard the following morning, sparring gear already secured, watching the wolves practice with genuine interest rather than the polite disinterest Lira had half expected from a pack heir more accustomed to formal negotiations than physical combat.
"You fight as well as they say, then," he observed, approaching as she finished correcting Fenn's footwork for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
"I manage," she said, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Manage seems an understatement, from what I've witnessed." Soren's easy smile widened slightly. "Would you spar with me? I confess, I've grown rather curious about the training methods that produced such a capable fighter."
She
