The morning air was already thick with the smell of kicked-up dust and sweat. The academy training grounds were a chaotic symphony of cracking wooden practice blades and grunted spells. Students clustered in small groups, some sparring in the outer rings, others watching from the stone benches that lined the perimeter.
Lucian spotted Marcus immediately.
He stood near the center ring with three other boys—all from wealthy families, equally wearing that same smug expression that came from never being told no. Marcus was demonstrating a sword technique, his movements sharp and practiced, clearly showing off for the handful of students watching.
"There," Seraphina said quietly beside Lucian. Her hand rested on her sword hilt. "Let's end this."
"Not yet." Lucian kept his voice low. "We do this carefully. He needs to hang himself with his own words."
"Lucian—"
"Trust me."
She looked at him for a long moment. Then nodded once.
They walked forward together.
