Nyx's POV
After lunch, we returned to the training yard.
"Alright," Kael said. "Basic conditioning. We'll start with a run—just around the perimeter of your property. I'll set the pace. If you need to stop, tell me. No pushing through pain."
"How far is the perimeter?"
"Maybe a mile? Mile and a half?" He was already stretching, testing his still-healing wounds. "We're not racing. Just building stamina."
"Your injuries…"
"Are my problems to manage." His tone was firm. "I know my limits. Trust me to respect them."
I wanted to argue. But I decided to trust him. He is the professional here.
"Fine," I said. "But if you collapse, I'm stopping to help you. Bond or no bond."
"Fair enough."
We started running.
It was immediately clear that Kael's conditioning was on a completely different level than mine. Even injured, even healing, he moved with the easy rhythm of someone who'd run thousands of miles over twenty years of training.
