A deliberate throat-clearing cuts through the charged air, snapping both Ewen and me apart as though we’d been caught doing something illicit. My head whips around, cheeks warm, only to find every pair of eyes fixed on me. The others are already mounted, their expressions caught somewhere between patience and thinly veiled amusement.
I clear my throat, straightening in the saddle with as much dignity as I could muster. “Right. Sorry, everyone. Let’s move on.” My tone is brisk, all business, though the heat lingering on my skin betrays me. “Zion, Hela—you know the path best. Lead us to the academy.”
Zion inclines his head in quiet acknowledgment, guiding Hela forward. As he passes, his leg brushes lightly against mine, a fleeting contact that sends a subtle shiver down my spine. He says n
