The sparring ring was empty except for you and Xaden, the twilight casting long shadows across the stones. He stood across from you, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth.

“You’re distracted,” he said, like it was a fact, not an observation. You tightened your grip on your weapon.

“I’m fine.” His eyebrows lifted in quiet challenge, and before you could react, he lunged — disarming you in seconds. You glared at him as he stepped closer, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

“You call that fine?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep letting your mind wander.”

Your breath caught, because he wasn’t just talking about sparring anymore. He held your gaze a second longer before handing your weapon back.

“Again,” he said, but softer this time — like he wasn’t just asking you to fight, but to trust him.