Evren stood by the window, unmoving.
From this height, the training grounds stretched wide beneath him, the dry earth scarred with footprints and drag marks from hours of combat. Dust still lingered faintly in the air, disturbed by movement that had only just ceased.
His gaze was fixed on her.
Mira.
She walked slowly across the field, each step deliberate. Controlled.
To anyone else, it would’ve looked like composure.
But he saw it.
The slight stiffness in her shoulders, the careful way she held her arm, the barely-there drag in her step.
She was in pain.
His jaw tightened.
Ash stirred.
Not violently this time but enough to agitate him.
He had refused her demand for this exact reason.
The thought of her being hurt—unnecessarily—had unsettled him in
