Chapter 49

As the carriages pull out, Brendan walks away, unable to quite stomach the sight of it.

The idea of returning to his room - empty, devoid of any indication that Alcina had ever been there at all, as though she were simply one long, poignant dream - is similarly unbearable.

So Brendan goes to find Lincoln in the hopes of a night spar.

He finds the Commander in the training courtyard, alone, sitting casually on the small steps leading down.

A rhythmic, sharp sound - like metal grating against stone - repeats, over and over, growing louder as Brendan approaches him.

He pauses.

“...Are you sharpening your swords? In the dark?”

Lincoln looks up at him, the moonlight glinting eerily off both his blade and his clean white teeth from his grin.

Brendan is, not for the first time, mildly disturbed. That they call him the frightening nightmare is laughable, given that Lincoln regularly makes Brendan pause in wary silence.

“It is good practice, my lord.”

Brendan eyes him dubiously. “Practice, fo