My mouth curls up at the edges. “And I’ve heard I can be a difficult student.”

His dimple deepens and he inches closer, his thumb stroking the back of my hand, the sensation enough to make my knees weak.

“I have one condition.”

My eyebrows shoot upward. “I’m not sure you’re in a position to be making conditions.”

“Call it a favor, then.”

I try to read his expression, but I can’t see anything beyond the relief and joy starting to shine through. Those two things prompt me to say, “All right, Ward. Let’s hear it.”

His voice is like velvet when he says, “It’s something I’ve asked you before: that you call me Landon.”

My body stills, but his thumb gives another lazy stroke, prompting a shiver to travel down my spine.

“That seems fair,” I say back, slightly breathy. “But I have a condition, too.”

“Oh?”

I ignore my pounding heart and hold his gaze as I say, “I think we should discuss … my training … away from Lengard.”

He seems puzzled by my request—or maybe my hesitation— so I’m quick to make myself clear.

“Perhaps over dinner.”

His puzzlement fades, his eyes filling with such light, such hope, that I feel heat blossom in my cheeks and I have to look away.

“Just to make sure I understand,” he says slowly, shifting closer. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Still staring out at the water, I say, “I’m asking you to a … work meeting. Over food.”

A low chuckle. “I was always told you should never mix work and pleasure.”

I finally shoot a glance at him to find his dimple in full view, but his eyes are soft as they look at me. He moves even closer, close enough that the wind can’t steal his quiet words when he says, “How about we save the training discussion for when we’re at Lengard, and you let me take you on a proper date, no work talk allowed?”

My heart is racing, even though I was the one who instigated this. It’s such a huge leap … but it’s also not.

Because this is Ward.

No, it’s Landon.

And I know this is what I want.

I’ve known for a long time, but I’ve been too afraid to admit it.

I’m not afraid anymore.

Ward, however …

I hesitated for too long, and I can see it on his face. A flash of uncertainty, of vulnerability, as if he expects me to turn him down. As if he’s sure of my rejection.

“That is, only if you want to,” he quickly backtracks. “If I misunderstood—If after everything that happened, you don’t want—”