I didn’t go back to my room.

Instead, I found myself in the training yard, despite the late hour. I needed to hit something. Needed to feel something other than this crushing jealousy and inadequacy.

The yard was empty except for one figure going through forms in the moonlight.

A man I’d never seen before. Tall, lean, moving with deadly grace. His hair was dark, pulled back in a low tail. Scars covered his visible skin. Arms, neck, face.

He moved like violence was an art form. Like ...