The crippled omega warrior girl
I recognize the scent instantly… like clean linen and summer rain, a smell I once chased like a lifeline.
"Isla." The voice is gentle, familiar, and laced with a patronizing concern that makes my teeth grind.
I lift my head. Cedric stands there, looking down at me with those perfect blue eyes, his blonde hair glinting in the torchlight. He's the picture of a warrior trainee… strong, handsome, with an easy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes tonight. He glances at my bound shoulder, then at the way my leg is stretched out stiffly. His brow furrows with what looks like sympathy, but feels like judgment.