Evy was in the training ground, training alone. Or at least, that was what it was supposed to be.
The morning air was cool, the kind that should have felt refreshing against her skin, but there was nothing light about the way she moved.
Her sword cut through the air with sharp precision, each swing controlled, each step firm against the ground beneath her feet.
The rhythm of steel against air echoed faintly in the quiet space.
Lincoln on the other hand stood at the side, just as he always did, watching her. The thing she hated the most.
He was like a shadow that refused to disappear no matter how bright the day became.
Her grip tightened slightly around the hilt of her sword. The blade sliced forward again, faster this time as she threw a deadly glare at him.
She was a lady. She needed space and time to breathe and be alone. And yet…There was no moment that belonged to her. No space that was truly hers.
