Edrin's glasses slipping down his nose during their first combat class, one finger pushing them back up without breaking his sentence.
He was explaining some tactical formation to Ronan, who wasn't listening at all, and Edrin didn't care because he was going to finish the explanation regardless of whether anyone heard it.
She'd liked him immediately. Not romantically, just – liked. The kind of person who kept thinking even when nobody was watching.
****
Training ground, evening, Zavier practicing alone.
His spear slipped and clattered to the ground. His ears turned red as he looked around to see if anyone noticed.
She was sitting under a tree thirty meters away, pretending to read.
She saw.
But she didn't say anything. Just watched him pick up the spear and start again, his ears still red, his grip too tight, his form terrible but his determination absolute.
He dropped it again.
And again.
And again.
