Charles trailed Lira down the stairs of the Storm Clan's building.
The echo of their footsteps bounced through the hallway, opening into a wide, well-lit space.
Polished stone walls reflected torchlight, and the air carried a faint scent of wood and wax.
Lira marched ahead, her black tunic with blue trim billowing with each purposeful step.
Charles, hands red and still sore from sparring with Varn, kept his tucked in his pockets, trying to look nonchalant.
But the tension was thick.
Lira hadn't said a word since leaving the training floor, and it was making him antsy.
'What'd I do now?' he thought, frowning. 'It was just a sparring match. No big deal.'
Lira glanced back slightly, her eyes a mix of irritation and concern he was starting to recognize.
Finally, she broke the silence.
"Rian," she said, half-question, half-scold. "Did you really fight someone up there?"
Charles scratched his neck, forcing a grin.
