“That explains your expression.”
He strikes the target again.
The blow lands hard enough to split the central stake.
I watch him continue. Each movement confirms what essence sight revealed: increased speed, improved recovery, a pulse carrying infernal echo, blood quickened by power it did not ask to receive. He says nothing else. Neither do I.
By nightfall, the secret has weight.
It follows me through the house, up the stairs, into the warmth of our room where Sable sits near the lamp with her legs tucked beneath her and papers spread across the bed. Her hair is loose, ink smudges one finger, and the sight of her should ease whatever the day has left in me. It does, for one breath.
Then she looks up.
“Well?”
The word is simple. Direct. Trusting.
I close the door behind me. “Well?”
“Do not ‘well’ me. You watched Corin train.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I cross the room with more care than distance warrants. The lamplight gilds the edge of her cheek, catching in the faint place where the burn used to be. The bond warms as I near her, open and steady, which makes the thing I am about to do taste worse.
“He is stronger,” I say.
She waits.
I remove my coat and lay it over the chair. “His recovery has improved. His coordination as well.”
“Rhazek.”
I look at her.
She knows I am choosing words. That is the trouble with equality. It removes hiding places.
“Did you find anything?” she asks.
The truth stands ready.
I feel its shape behind my teeth.
Instead, I say, “Not enough to name.”
Her eyes narrow slightly.
It is not quite a lie. That does not make it clean.
“Not enough,” she repeats.
“I need more information before alarming you.”
“Interesting phrasing.”
“Yes.”
