Page 68 of Tempest Blazing
Chapter 29
Tess
The dining hall felt cavernous at this hour, shadows pooling between empty tables like spilled ink. I'd wandered here without really thinking about it—my suite had felt too small, too quiet, my thoughts spinning in endless circles about tomorrow's training exercises. The bootcamp days blurred together in a haze of exhaustion and determination, but sleep remained stubbornly elusive.
I was contemplating raiding the kitchen for something caffeinated when footsteps echoed behind me.
"Can't sleep either?"
I turned to find Kane in the doorway, and for a moment, I barely recognized him. His usually pristine white shirt was wrinkled, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair—normally swept back in perfect order—fell loose across his forehead in pale waves. Even his posture seemed less rigid, shoulders slightly hunched with fatigue.
The sight of him like this, unguarded and rumpled, sent an unexpected flutter through my chest. God. He looked... human.
"Personal training ran late," he explained, stepping into the hall. His blue-violet eyes found mine across the space, and something shifted in his expression. Less calculating strategist, more... man. "Thought I'd grab something before heading home."
"Let me guess," I said, unable to resist the opening. "You've already exceeded your daily training quota by about three hundred percent, but figured you'd squeeze in a few more hours just to be safe?"
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Only two hundred percent, actually. I'm slacking."
Despite everything—the tension between us, the careful distance we'd maintained since that first day—I found myself grinning. "Oh, well in that case, you're practically a slacker. Should I report you to your father for underperformance?"
The smile faded slightly at the mention of Silvius, but Kane recovered quickly. "He'd probably make me run laps around the entire Guild grounds until dawn."
"Probably?" I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like you're speaking from experience."
Kane's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Something like that."
The weight in his voice made my chest ache. I wanted to ask more, to dig into whatever shadows followed him whenever his father came up, but he was already moving toward the kitchen area. I followed, watching as he rummaged through the refrigerated storage units with practiced efficiency.
"Ah." He emerged with a plate covered in cloth. "Mrs. Hartwell's apple pie. She always leaves extras."
"The cook?"
"Pastry chef," he corrected, lifting the cloth to reveal a generous slice of golden-crusted pie. "And before you ask—yes, I asked permission to raid her leftovers. I'm not completely without manners."
I laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the empty space. "Here I was, ready to be scandalized by your criminal pie-theft activities."
"Sorry to disappoint." He grabbed two forks from a nearby drawer, offering me one. "Care to be an accomplice?"
The casual gesture caught me off guard. This wasn't the Kane I'd grown used to—the one who maintained careful distance, who spoke in clipped, strategic observations. This was someone softer around the edges, more... human.
"I suppose I could be persuaded," I said, accepting the fork.
We ended up walking the perimeter of the dining hall, sharing bites of pie that tasted like cinnamon and comfort. The darkness wrapped around us like a secret, the quiet making our voices feel more intimate.
The conversation came easier than it ever had before. Gentle teasing about his perfectionist tendencies, my habit of overthinking everything into knots. Something about the empty space and hushed atmosphere made it easier to let my guard down, to say things I might have kept to myself in the harsh light of day.
"You know," I said as we paused near the tall windows overlooking the courtyard, "for someone who claims to be slacking, you still managed to outlast everyone else in combat training today."
Kane shrugged, but I caught the faint flush that crept up his neck. "Experience has its advantages."
"Experience, or the fact that you've been training since you could walk?"
"Both, probably." He took another bite of pie, chewing thoughtfully. "My father started me early. Said power without control was worthless."
There it was again—that careful flatness whenever Silvius came up. Not quite bitter, but close. I wanted to ask more, to understand the shadows that seemed to follow him whenever his father was mentioned, but Kane was already changing the subject.
"What about you?" he asked. "When did you first discover what you were capable of?"
