Thoren
I watched her from the overlook above the training yard, arms crossed, expression carved from stone.
She was… different. Not weaker—never that—but frayed at the edges. A bit thinner, a little stiffer, her shoulders always half-braced like she expected the world to swing first. She ran with stubbornness instead of grace. Fought like someone who had survived, not someone who had been trained.
She wasn’t the girl I’d sent away. But she was still her. Still my mate. Not that she wore my mark, not yet.
Kael barked orders below. I caught the barest glimpses of their interaction—his clipped encouragement, her ragged breathing, the occasional curse when she missed a block or stumbled through a new form.
She kept going and never quit. Not even once. That part hadn’t changed. It’s part o
