Page 50 of Legacy Found

Oh.

I don't know why those three words land where they do. Maybe because he's a prince. Maybe because he says them without ego or embarrassment, like the answer is obvious. Or maybe because his pale eyes haven't left mine. For one strange second, neither of us looks away.

Then one corner of his mouth lifts.

Barely.

"But they'd have to prove it first."

And there he is.

I smile. "Obviously."

"Water's over," Luke says.

I glance at him. He looks mildly annoyed.

I grin. "Are you jealous because Soren answered my question better than you?"

"No."

From the bleachers, Soren says, completely deadpan, "He is."

Luke points toward the mat. "Again."

I'm still laughing when I take my stance.

When we finish, I gather my things, sore and satisfied, and wave up at the bleachers on my way out.

"See you tomorrow."

Soren nods — and it's fractionally more than the polite nothing from before, a real acknowledgment this time. Even Ander's chin dips a degree lower than usual. Progress, maybe. Or maybe I'm imagining it.

I head for the door, and at the top of the path I glance back, the way I do.

The three of them are still down in the arena. Not training. Not talking. Just standing there in the fading light, all three of them, watching me go — Luke with that unsettled, thinking look still on his face, Soren unreadable, Ander frowning.

They don't look away when they see me catch them.

I lift my hand in a last little wave, because what else do you do, and let the door swing shut behind me — and I walk back toward the dorms wondering, not for the first time, what exactly it is about a scholarship girl asking simple questions that keeps stopping a room full of wolves cold.

Somebody, eventually, is going to have to tell me.

Chapter nineteen

Jessica

I've started looking forward to combat, which is a sentence I never thought I'd think.

Somewhere in the last several weeks it stopped being the thing I dreaded and became the best hour of my day — sweaty, exhausting, and mine. I've got a rhythm now: wrap my hands, tie my hair back, meet Luke in the arena, and spend an hour learning how not to flinch. I'm good at it these days. Not great. But good, and getting better, and there's nothing like the feeling of my body finally doing what I tell it to.

Today, when I walk in, Luke's already there wrapping his hands — and about ten seconds behind me, Torres strolls in too.

He doesn't ask. Doesn't wait to be invited. He just walks in like he owns the place, drops his bag next to mine, and starts stretching.

"...Hi?" I say, grinning, surprised and pleased. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard this is where the magic happens." Torres rolls a shoulder. "Figured I'd find out what all the after-class disappearing's about."