Chapter 7: Steel and Expectations
He hardly slept.
The candle's flame flickered too dimly to see by, but he wasn't attempting to read. He perched on the cot's edge, boots tied, tunic folded twice at the arms, fingers fidgeting with residual tension. The edge leaned against the wall next to him. Just in case.
When the morning bell chimed, he had already left.
The courtyard was vacant.
The fog still hadn't cleared. It moved through stone arches and training posts like a sigh from something old. Leon passed through it at a leisurely pace. Every noise was amplified—his boots on stone, the groan of timber, the gentle buzz of a stablehand sweeping far off.
She arrived late.
He remained in the yard, arms folded, sword hanging by his side.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Next, hooves.
A white horse cantered into sight, accompanied by two knights.