Elara stood at the edge of Class B's camp, watching students reinforce the area that Sapphire had marked with basic warning runes.
Two of them positioned logs wrong.
She corrected them with more force than necessary, then immediately regretted her tone because Darius never needed to shout.
He just gave orders, and people listened.
She tried not to think about Darius.
Or Cole.
Her hands wouldn't stop moving. Adjusting her belt, checking her water pouch, brushing dirt off her sleeves – nervous habits she'd trained herself out of before the Academy.
Now they were back. Leading a class felt nothing like the practice drills in her private tutoring.
Ronan crossed her peripheral vision, heading toward the supply tent.
Elara's eyes tracked him without meaning to, irritation and a little bit of envy flickering in her chest.
He's been reliable.
She hated admitting that.
Ronan was still rude, detached, and absolutely infuriating in every way.
