"Gideon's next move wasn't charm. It was a trap."
The smirk outside my window the night before hadn't been coincidence. By dawn's first light, when the Academy bells rang out across the stone courtyards and students began filing toward the dining hall for morning meal, he was already waiting for me.
I found him lounging against the weathered stone archway that led to the training grounds, positioned perfectly to intercept anyone heading to sword practice or archery lessons. His dark hair caught the early sunlight, and his expensive doublet of midnight blue velvet looked pristine despite the morning dew that dampened everything else.
"Just the two of us," Gideon said smoothly, his voice carrying that familiar note of silk over steel. "A private spar. Nothing more complicated than that."
