Fiona -POV
Despite the light flooding the room, the figure’s face remained obscured as they approached me, cloaked in a dark robe. Instinctively,
I reached for the dagger in my bag, taking a defensive stance. My grip tightened around the handle, ready to strike if necessary.
The tension in the air grew as the figure came closer, and then—suddenly—their face came into view. Hazel eyes locked with mine.
“Emma?” I exhaled sharply, relaxing my stance as the familiar face registered. My heart still pounded, the adrenaline refusing to dissipate. “God, Emma, you scared me!”
Emma’s lips curved into a smile, one that reminded me of a teacher pleased with their student’s progress. “Fiona,” she said, her voice steady, “your fighting stance was perfect—spot on. I thought you might slack off afte
