Azryth was acting strange.
Not obvious strange, he was too controlled for that. But I'd gotten good at reading him over the past weeks, the binding helped, sure, but mostly it was just knowing him.
And something was off.
It started Wednesday morning when he came back from an early meeting at the archive. I'd been half-asleep still when he returned, but I felt him through the binding, tense, worried, and trying very hard to project calm.
"Morning," I mumbled. "Everything okay?"
"Fine, just routine research follow-up." Too casual, too quick. "Go back to sleep."
I didn't. But I pretended to, watching through barely-open eyes as he went to his office and closed the door, actually closed it, he never closed his office door when we were alone in the penthouse.
By noon, he'd made seven phone calls in languages I didn't recognize, all behind that closed office door.
By evening, he was distracted during training, not dangerously so, but enough that I landed hits I shouldn't have.
