The morning air tastes like iron. Cold, sharp, restless.
By the time I reach the training field, my hands are already trembling. Not from fear this time, but from the pressure under my skin. Every nerve feels like it’s alight, buzzing with something I can’t fully name.
The Moonfire hasn’t settled since last night. It moves like a second heartbeat, pulsing faster whenever I think about Talon’s hands on me, his voice saying my name like a secret I’m not supposed to hear. My chest tightens, a slow burn under my ribs, as if it’s waiting to ignite.
My father is already waiting. Same dark shirt. Same guarded eyes. Two guards behind him, silent as shadows, watching, always watching.
“You’re late.” He says.
“I barely slept.”
He tilts his head. “Then we’ll burn the fatigue out.”
Of course we
