Eli
Loran is waiting when I arrive at training. Not Hazel. Not Jace. Loran.
He’s leaning against one of the wooden posts like he’s been there a while, arms folded, his expression somewhere between bored and faintly amused. The kind of look people wear when they’ve already decided you’re not worth much.
Hazel’s across the clearing, bent over a crate of practice weapons. She glances up, catches sight of Loran, and her mouth tightens before she goes back to rummaging.
“Morning,” I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.
“Is it?” His smile is thin, more teeth than warmth. “You’re late again.”
I bite back the obvious excuse. That Ronan had kept me in bed longer than I’d planned and I didn’t want to leave at all, and settle for, “Didn’t realize you were keeping time.”
“I notice things.” H
