Elin's POV

The apartment smells like stale air and dust. I push open the door to Yanis's place and the scent hits me---faint traces of his cologne mixed with something bitter. Medicine, maybe. Or just the smell of dreams rotting.

"Elin." Yanis looks up from the couch, brown eyes dull. His fencing trophies line the shelves behind him, gleaming gold and silver under the afternoon light filtering through half-drawn blinds. "Didn't expect you."

"Baron said you started training again." I close ...