Elara scrubbed blood from the stone floor until her hands burned.No one had ordered her to do it.That was the point.The training hall was empty except for her and the echoes of morning drills still hanging in the air. Sweat, iron, effort. It reminded her of home. Not the place. The feeling.Earned ground.She dipped the cloth again, jaw tight as a dull ache rolled through her lower back. She paused, breathed through it, then kept scrubbing.If she slowed down, people would notice.If they noticed, they would ask questions.She could not afford questions.“You missed a spot.”Elara did not flinch. She straightened slowly and turned.Rowan stood at the entrance, arms crossed, expression unreadable.She followed his gaze to a faint smear near the wall.“I’ll get it,” she said.“I wasn’t criticizing,” he replied. “I was observing.”She went back to work anyway.Rowan watched in silence for a long moment. “You don’t need to do this.”“Yes, I do,” she said, voice even.“Frostveil provide
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