Damien found Seria and Elara in one of Valdara's training yards the next morning. Seria was running drills with local guards, correcting their formations with the patient efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times. Elara sat nearby, reviewing medical supplies and occasionally offering suggestions.
"Mind if I join?" Damien asked.
Seria glanced over, considered him for a moment, then nodded. "Grab a practice sword. Let's see if you remember basic footwork or if all that shadow magic has made you lazy."
It was an olive branch. A return to normalcy after yesterday's tension.
They sparred for twenty minutes – not seriously, just enough to work up a sweat and fall into familiar rhythms. When they finally called it, both were breathing hard and grinning despite themselves.
"You're getting sloppy," Seria observed. "That last block was terrible. I could've disarmed you easily."
"I was distracted by how you keep telegraphing your strikes."
"I do not telegraph – "
