Verity's pov

Caleb’s hand was warm and firm on my elbow as he pulled away from the hug and guided me away from the sparring rings. His touch was careful and calming, like I might shatter if he pressed too hard.

The training ground a few blocks away from us buzzed with noise—clashing steel, grunts, shouted commands—but the moment he tugged me toward a shaded corner, it felt as though the world muted.

“Sit,” he murmured, lowering himself first so I’d follow. I did, settling ...