She was already waiting in the outer ring when he stepped into the dawn.
There were no training forms this morning. She was simply sitting on the lowest stone step, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes fixed on the smooth, worn indentation in the center of the courtyard—the exact spot her mother's relentless footwork had ground into the rock over a lifetime. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a steaming cup of tea. Beside her rested a second, waiting.
Vane sat down beside her, taking the offered cup without needing to look.
