The king walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his steps unhurried, his attention drifting across the assessment grounds like a man surveying a garden he had planted years ago and only now come to admire. Kaelen walked beside Lysander, the bond a warm pulse in his chest, his mind still turning over the moment at the gates, the king's casual touch on the duke's arm, the way their shoulders brushed when they walked, the intimacy of two people who had grown up in each other's pockets.
He had seen close bonds before. In his old life, hunters who survived dungeons together often developed something like this, a wordless understanding, a physical ease that came from trusting someone with your life. But this was different, older, deeper, like roots that had grown together underground until they could no longer be separated.
"You're staring," Lysander said, his voice low.
