We started training at sunrise.
No time to waste. Not after the Moonstone’s warning and that vision of darkness. Not after Aria threw a 400-year-old Magister across a room like he weighed nothing.
The training grounds were a mess from the battle, so we used the inner courtyard. Stone walls on all sides, healers on standby, and Roric watching from a cot because he refused to miss this even with a broken spine.
Aria was in the center, sitting on a blanket with her tiny hands on her knees. She was 3 weeks old now, but she looked bigger somehow. Stronger. Her gold eyes tracked everything with that unsettling focus that made my skin crawl.
Elias stood to her left as the shield. Kade stood to her right as the “what not to do” example. Darius and I stood in front of her.
“We’re not teaching
