Alex’s Pov
Smoke from the training pyres curled through the open-air arena, clinging to everything like secrets that refused to die. The air reeked of sweat, scorched leather, and blood, a battlefield in constant rehearsal.
I stood at the edge of the field, silent, still, eyes locked on Rowan Dean.
Or the boy who wasn’t a boy.
Not really. Not anymore.
He moved differently now. Too lightly, like his bones were spun from silk and shadows, not sinew, grace threaded each step where brute force should’ve reigned. And when one of the larger trainees slammed him into the mud, I caught it, the twitch in his jaw, the flash of something too vulnerable to fake.
Not pride.
Pain.
He shouldn't have winced like that. Not unless something was seriously wrong.
I narrowed my gaze.
Rowan rose slowl
