ETAN
Etan was in the training ring with Borsche—who was doing his best to look less skilled than he was—ignoring the glares of half the other nobles, when he felt her. She'd been a vague presence in the back of his mind, the center of his chest, for every waking moment. But it was as if her presence suddenly bloomed to life. It was instinct to turn and look for her and it was only by the grace of the Father that he didn't lose an ear. In the split second he was distracted, Borsche swung an arc with the training sword—heavier than his actual sword, because Borsche was a sadist—and almost lopped one off.
As it was, despite the obviously awkward swing Borsche took with the training sword—little more than a clutch of reeds tied together—it clacked hard against Etan's shoulder. It was only by gritting his teeth against the grunt that he managed not to cry out.
