Cassian’s voice rang out across the training field like a battle horn.

“You two are late. Again.”

You winced as you and Nyx landed side by side in the snow-dusted Illyrian camp, your wings folding tightly behind your back. Nyx’s hand was still wrapped around yours from your rushed flight, the two of you having bolted out of bed the moment you realized the sun was far too high in the sky. Again.

Nyx didn’t flinch, though. He lifted his chin, still breathless but smug. “Apologies, General. My mate got… distracted this morning.”

Your eyes snapped to him, your mouth dropping open in a mix of horror and amusement. “You absolute traitor.”

Cassian crossed his arms, wings flaring slightly. “Oh, I’m sure she wasn’t the only one distracted.” His eyes narrowed on Nyx. “You’re lucky I don’t make you both fly laps until dusk.”

“We accept that punishment,” you said quickly, giving Nyx a sharp nudge. “He’ll be flying with weighted leathers.”

Nyx gave you an indignant look. “Excuse me?”

Cassian grunted, clearly trying not to smile. “As adorable as your bickering is, training started half an hour ago. And your team already lost two rounds because their ‘power couple’ wasn’t here to anchor the flank.”

You groaned. “We’re really sorry, Cass. It won’t happen again.”

Cassian arched a brow.

“…This week,” Nyx added helpfully, grinning.

That earned you both a flying pad to the back of your heads from Cassian. “Save the flirting for after drills. Swords. Arena. Now.”

You and Nyx exchanged a look—one full of shared amusement and mutual challenge—before sprinting toward the weapons rack, your laughter echoing across the camp.