As all of Leon's squadmates trained, he trained in his own way.
Inside the imperial palace, in his chamber, Leon sat cross-legged and shirtless. Elizabeth lay on the bed beside him.
She looked cleaner. Her clothes had been changed and the healers had done what they could removing the whip marks. But the stitches remained and the scar on her abdomen would not fade.
Leon's eyes were closed. His face was a mask.
Originus's voice suddenly crawled into his head. 'Boy, if you keep forcing this you'll break yourself.'
Leon did not answer.
Originus tried again this time softer. 'She wouldn't want you dead over her. Not like this.'
Leon opened his eyes at that statement, as he looked at Elizabeth's stomach. The stitches were a clean, ugly line across pale skin.
'It's my fault,' he thought. 'If I hadn't made those cores…'
Originus cut in before the shame could drown him.
'You can't be sure that's all. You can't measure fate like a tally.'
Leon's jaw tightened.
