Emma's POV
I get my breathing under control first. Then my face.
"You caught me," I say. Steady. Easy. "Thank you. I'm not reading anything into it."
He finally looks at me. Something in his expression settles—grateful, almost, though he'd never call it that.
He picks up the second practice sword without a word and holds it out.
"Spar with me."
So we do.
I come at him hard—shoulder driving through the way he taught me, committing fully. He deflects it without shifting his feet. Blade to blade, clean redirect, zero effort.
I pull back and go again. He blocks it. The impact shudders up to my back teeth.
Again. Again. I cannot touch him. He isn't even warming up.
After the sixth failed attempt, he steps back and waves over one of his guards training at the far end of the yard—a stoc
