“Who are you to put your hand on me?" Zephyr growls.
“The one who tells you to take yours off," the man says, and removes Zephyr's grip from my wrist like it's a burr.
I know the voice before the crowd does. My chest loosens and tightens at once.
“Kaelen," I breathe.
He doesn't look at me yet. His eyes stay on Zephyr. “Apologize to my healer."
Zephyr blinks, thrown by the pronoun, then furious. “Your what?"
“Head healer," Kaelen says mildly.
Mabel laughs. “Oh, please. Who—"
Kaelen's right hand moves once, clean and short.
The punch lands like a verdict.
Zephyr hits the cobbles, breath gone, pride louder than the impact. The square gasps as one. Halberds jerk, then freeze when Kaelen lifts two fingers without looking.
Zephyr pushes up on a palm, blood bright at his mouth. “You—"
