Every evening, I told myself to skip training the next day. To stay locked in my suite until he left Ellder. And every morning, I met the Guardian at dawn. He’d told me on that horseback ride from Ashmore that the gods were vindictive, manipulative bastards. Maybe he was right. By this cruel twist of fate, I was married to Zavier while this man haunted my dreams. This was all we’d ever have together. Morning training sessions with veiled compliments and unfiltered mockery. It wasn’t a friendship. But when I thought about my days in Turah, the best had been with the Guardian. Maybe that was why
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