Leaving the hall, Aria did not return to her chambers where she knew Zyren would not be.
Her steps were deliberate, each one sharper than the last, carrying her instead toward his study.
She intended to speak to him, and she would not wait.
The two guards at the door stiffened as she approached, their crimson-tinged eyes flicking toward her before they bowed.
She didn't acknowledge them—didn't slow.
Her hand pushed against the heavy door, the polished wood giving way under her palm, and she stepped inside without knocking.
The faint scent of ink and old parchment clung to the room, mingling with the sharper tang of candle wax.
Zyren's presence filled the space before his voice did.
"Shouldn't you be in the training room with Vander?"
He didn't even look up from the papers in his hands.
"There are still a few hours before your fight. He could teach you a thing or two before your first kill."
The casual cruelty in his tone struck her like a slap.
