He did not argue, but his fingers, which were resting on the table, twitched slightly, as if he wanted to catch her wrist and keep it still. He did not do it though. Recently, he had been more… restrained.
This made Isabella suspicious.
Later that afternoon, she caught him in a rare moment of stillness.
Kian stood in the courtyard outside the stone palace, watching Cyrus train. The red snake man had stripped down to a thin shirt that Isabella had just newly introduced to their village, his breath steaming in the cold as he moved through a series of precise, sharp motions.
His spiritual power flickered around him like faint pink smoke, condensing, stretching, shrinking again as he forced it into different shapes.
He was not trying to be powerful today. He was trying to be careful.
