A Game of Control

Vexaria didn't return to the training grounds for the rest of the day.

She needed distance. From him. From the way his touch still lingered on her skin. From the way her traitorous body had reacted to his lips against her neck.

She had let him get too close.

That was a mistake. A dangerous, reckless mistake.

Yet, as night fell, she found herself restless, her mind consumed by every sharp-edged moment they had shared. She had meant to put him in his place—to remind him that she wasn't someone to be toyed with.

But he had turned the tables.

And worse, she had let him.

A knock on her chamber door startled her from her thoughts.

She turned, instinctively reaching for the dagger at her waist. "Who is it?"

Silence.

A long, weighted silence.

Then—

"Open the door, Vexaria."

Her breath hitched.

Xypheron.

She clenched her jaw, fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade. She shouldn't let him in. She shouldn't even entertain the thought of facing him again tonight.

But her hand was already moving, unlocking the door before she could stop herself.

The door swung open, revealing him in the dim candlelight. He was still in his dark tunic from earlier, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it too many times.

He looked… unraveled.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But she saw it.

And it made something tighten in her chest.

"You have a death wish," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Xypheron smirked, stepping inside without waiting for