Draven.
The sun was sharp this afternoon, throwing long shadows across the sandpit.
I stood with my arms folded, watching the three warriors line up. Across from them, Dennis loosened his shoulders, looking calm but focused. He knew he had to take this match seriously.
At my side, Meredith shifted. I didn't need to look at her—the bond let me feel her unease pulling at me, tight and insistent. But then her voice came, soft, and laced with worry.
"Is it really okay for Dennis to fight all three of them at once?"
I turned my head and caught her eyes. Those violet irises searched mine like I might change my mind if she looked hard enough. But I never planned to do that.
"It's fine," I told her with a steady tone. "Dennis can handle himself. Watch closely, and you will learn a lot from this match."
Her mouth pressed into a line; obviously, she didn't believe me. I could feel it as clearly as if she had said it out loud.
