The early sun painted golden streaks across the lush palace gardens. Dew clung to the grass, and the air carried the scent of jasmine and damp earth. Isadora walked beside Lucien, her hand occasionally brushing his. She glanced up at him, his expression a little less tense than it had been lately.
"Look," she grinned, holding out a hand.
A small stone near the path floated up, circling in the air, then gently returned to the ground.
"I've been practicing," she said, her green eyes shining with pride.
"Celeste showed me a focusing trick. I can move things now."
Lucien stopped, a slow, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
"You're getting stronger."
"A little," she teased.
"Maybe one day I'll be strong enough to beat you."
He chuckled softly at that, and they kept walking.
A quiet settled between them, the good kind — the kind where nothing needed to be said immediately. Isadora finally asked the question that had lingered in her mind.
"Lucien… how does it feel?"
